Oh what a day

Some days are best forgotten...Today is one.

Not that it got the better of me or anything ordinary like that, it just drained every drop of life out of me.
But it's coming to an end now and I am ready for bed, how long I sleep is not important, what is important is that in a little while I'll be out of this chemical/form filled/wheelchaired world. And my mind will be free to roam. Probably to palaces and shacks. Whatever. They are all home to me.


Mum had a big appointment today, and with her usual amazing fortitude went through the ghastly procedure without so much as a delicate murmur.

Tests will be done again but she was allowed out into the cold night air with nothing but letters for her GP. When she was wheeled out through the hospital doors I was so pleased to see her that immediately my own health felt better. (I fainted this morning) So over the moon was I that I chatted on and on to the taxi driver about football and rugby and swimming pools... mum and John being their usual quiet selves just enjoyed the Christmas fairy lights which brighten the roadsides of Rochford.

At the moment she is on the settee frail and pale and drinking Lucozade, she's been through a terrible dark tunnel today lined with tubes, needles, greyness and uncertainty but she's in my living room now sitting small and proud wrapped in clothes too big but looking every inch a Madam, and her palace, her home from home, is bedecked with twinkling fairy lights of red and blue and white.

What a tough little fairy:)

This post has taken an hour to write...