Half A Mohican

22nd May 2012 Tuesday

The doors and windows have been open all day letting in the hot blue sky - and the flies. There’s a demented black one now swirling round and round my head  then getting frantic inside the paper lantern.

My husband says, ‘ I don’t know why I’m so shagged out.’

I think, Maybe because you had a colonoscopy yesterday - after waiting for three hours in a hospital gown....maybe because you’ve just been working on the allotment for four hours in the hot hot sun....with no water to drink.....maybe because it’s emotional having a brain disease and a stressed out wife and a sick pussy cat.....

At 7pm tonight the vet rings. It is a T cell lymphoma. The pussy cat can start the chemo tablets tomorrow. He’s sleeping now  - all curled up on the sofa so you can’t see the gaping grey patch in his side where they shaved away his fur to do the scan - like half a Mohican....

My husband has already gone to his ceramics class. I dissolve myself in two back to back episodes of ‘Mad Men’ that I took out of the library. The glass of wine doesn’t help but the fat squares of Waitrose dark chocolate are a numbing antidote. Which doesn’t last.