Another glorious day, and I'm back on the up. I feel like a bloody yo-yo these days, but what goes down seldom stays down for long (quite literally - boom boom), and the sun is shining, the birds are singing at next door's cats. At one point I thought, Is this still England, or am I in some sort of opiate induced dream of warmer climes - but no - I've even got a summer frock on! I hope you are enjoying the weather wherever you are.

Yesterday I had my first 'fraction' of radiotherapy (RT). Family friend, D, was my volunteer driver for the day, and duly turned up in Maisy, a lovely little Mazda convertible - top down - the works. Instinctively, I grabbed a sick back and bowl on the way out the door, and wondered what people must have thought as we sped along; him in cool shades, arm sunning on the window ledge, and me, throwing up between conversations. I looked like shite by the time we finally pulled into the oncology car park!

But hey, the sun was still shining, and D handled the situation beautifully. He's a dad, you see.

SO the first thing we had to do was see a doctor. We ended up in a side-room - in case I infected anyone/everyone else with the bug - so while D hunted for pics in The Star and got sent on pharmacy runs, I sat with my head in my hands trying not to throw up again.

But the treatment went fine in the end. I was a little perplexed at having to strip to the waist in front of two rather sweet young men, but there's no room for embarrassment when your life is on the line - which mine most certainly is. I got the boobs out, adopted my porn-star-lay-back-and-think-of-healing pose, and got on with the job of... not moving. Which isn't as easy as you may think, especially when people are drawing on you under your arms, with tickly pens!

They said, you can talk if you want. Some people talk, and others prefer not to. I laughed to myself. Me? Not talking?! Ha ha ha!

I did have some quiet time with the machine though. Sting was singing Fields of Gold in the background, and I lay there, visualising the tumour shrinking away. It was very good really. No pain. No needles sticking in me/fluids passing through me/fear and loathing. Just very peaceful.

Reassuring.

And I wasn't sick on the way home either, which was a huge bonus. We had a lovely evening meal, got forgiveness from my mother for forgetting her birthday - genuine excuse this year - and then Nee came over and we sat and chatted into the early hours.

Actually had a day of feeling normal, rather than like a cancer patient, and it was wonderful.

P.S. AND I've kept on writing too! Way bloody hey!