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Written Wednesday

The last 24 hours have been OK. I've felt pretty much in control, even good humoured. It is nearly Christmas, after all - the time of year I love only second to my birthday.

Of course it all suddenly becomes serious again once I'm back in hospital for the CT scan. Drinking orange juice with some kind of dye in it sort of marks you out in the waiting room.

Yet again two very nice technicians. Even though "it's against the regulations" they let me take this picture once I'd reassured them that neither I nor they would appear in it! Good of them to warn me that the injection of (more) die as you pass through the machine makes you feel like you've peed yourself!


Probably the word association between "die" and "injection", but I couldn't help thinking about Tookie Williams, executed in California yesterday morning.

Back at the office, a friend and colleague whose husband is recovering from cancer said that the thing they've discovered is the fact that the rollercoaster just keeps rolling - even after treatment and recovery there are the check ups and setbacks. Be prepared for that, she said - but how do you really prepare for that?

Then the train to Liverpool for a work meeting then lunch with J's daughter B tomorrow.

Although I'm finding it hard to concentrate on reading at the moment, (but not on writing which is interesting) my eye was drawn to this article in the paper which reckons that a high fibre diet doesn't prevent cancer. I suppose that it's fairly academic as far as I'm concerned now.

Also managed to meditate on the train. I haven't done that for quite a while but J and I agreed that taking it up again will really help with all this.

Horribly aware of my body at the moment too. Not in the bodyimage way either - I'm hoping that that's becoming less important to me. But in the way that it's not quite dependable - secret things are happening in it - things I can't control through exercise or will. Or exercise of will actually.

It feels like my car. I've always kept it serviced according to the manufacturer's instructions, (OK I pushed it a bit when I first had it) it gets the right fuel (but I let it get a bit low sometimes ) and I respect the fact that it's not quite as fast as it used to be. In return it gets me reliably from A to B and still accelerates when I ask it to.

But now I feel that it might just blow out on the motorway with no warning. And I can't do a thing about it.

Maybe that's why I increasingly get that " far from home" feeling when I'm er... far from home. Because for the first time since I was taken ill (was that only a month ago?) I got worried about being away from home tonight. Just feeling out on a limb. Away from basecamp.

Staying in the Holiday Inn in Liverpool tonight. Very nice. I'm sure it was just a fluke that they put me in a room with full disabled facilities. Bit like a room in a private hospital l expect. Without the minibar though...

Later, a call from Iain Bain (my consultant). CT scan is clear! So it hasn't spread, thank God. He also says to expect a call about a radiotherapy appointment shortly.

Off on the rollercoaster again!

One more work trip to go. Next Tuesday to London.