Day 1.......

Only a couple of weeks ago

...Of what I don't know but other people are now having to do all the typing for me (husband keeps cracking jokes whilst I try to dictate) so the atmosphere here is pretty high, Ha Ha! I had wanted to go to the riding school today but don't think I'm going to make it now even though the sky is a beautiful blue outside. Feel too dizzy and sick to contemplate moving full stop. Fuck knows how I'll get this book written or which poor soul will end up typing it out but it's looking quite plain that it's not going to be me (or Fay lol)

Last night the district nurses had to come out at 2.30am to put a fluids drip up- I'm starting to look like a prune. Trouble is my stomach doesn't seem to agree with my plans to stay alive. I keep telling it we need some nutrition but cancer seems to have made it deaf as well as anorexic. So the question is do I... a) eat and hurl or b) give it a miss and fade away?

Just let the cat out and the garden smells delicious. There's lots of whispers in the kitchen (lots of talk of pain verses quality of life) I am reminded of John Diamond's last column in the Times and thinking a) the Bastard and b) perhaps I should have got to this stage of acceptance a few months ago.... but then the blog wouldn't have been the same would it? And besides, it's giving me something to keep me going even now, and if I do survive- long shot- I'll have a lot of thanking to do hee hee. Someone suggested getting this blog published posthumously but I don't know what purpose that would serve other than feeding one sycophantic writer's desires to get in print even if dead!

If there are any poor souls out there reading this just after their own diagnoses I would like to say keep positive BUT do bear in mind that if it goes tits up, you may realise that you have left yourself with too little time. And that is crap, especially as I now want to blog /chat more that tell stories, but I've got to do other things like

1. Do a memory box withe the children

2. Get all bank details sorted out

3. Stay alive as long as possible

4. Still do positive thinking ie. some fortunate bastards have actually made it back from here!

Yesterday was pretty scary and I was relieved to have woken up this morning but yesterday, while the fluids and nutrition came in and went out again, I watched a video of my eldest daughter with her- one that she had never seen before- of her and her birth father. It was very moving for my hubby too as he hadn't seen them either. I haven't told you about this but I had to leave my demonic first husband after he tried to stab me and her (then two and a half) to death in my friend's kitchen. Another novel there! Lots of good memories and hopefully humorous ones at that. Luckily now she is sixteen she is legally safe from the Algerian Twat so I can tell you this without worrying too much that he'll ever see this and try to make contact. I, back in 1995 chose to flee the country leading to building a new life in Spain- not to mention- coming to grips with my own identity again after five years of mental and physical abuse.

It actually all worked out really well and the people of Fuengirola did indeed rebuild me; Installed me with a new language chip;

Not looking so great this morning!

New menu; New outlook; New hope. Actually they gave me the confidence to be able to return to the UK, almost bilingual and do a whole host of exams and thingies (bugger the PHD) I can get my head around the rest of the novel but the thesis- that might be asking too much. Excuse me while I throw up again. Going to leave it here for now, I am conscious that I'm being really selfish sitting here dictating this while all people have come to do is drink tea and eat my jam tarts ha ha.