I went to see the consultant last week. It’s always a bit of a scary thing when you have a big disease like leukaemia. I needn’t have worried. He’s not.
In fact, me, him, my husband, a nurse and a student all sat gently laughing for 10 minutes while we chatted about how everything is OK and being managed well, then we chatted about politics and mutual people we knew from the hills.
That was it. I went downstairs and bought a salad from the hospital M&S Food shop while the pharmacy got my prescription ready. My husband and I sat on a bench eating lunch, chatting about the kids. I’d even say it felt like a lunch date. Not The Savoy I grant you, but just some time together and a moment to accept a huge relief.
The good people from Radio Stoke rang. “Can you come on and talk about pyjamas this afternoon on Liz’s show?” “Sorry, I can’t today, I’m just at the hospital.” I was quiet on the way back from Stoke. Just trying to feel the moment. Then it hit. The consultant is pleased with me and I’m OK.
The thought had had its time to settle in my head.
I turned to my husband as he was driving. “Drop me at the office would you love? I can crack on now.”
Hope you’re all OK too.