It's lovely to go away and we've only been gone two days but it feels like weeks. I've eaten far to much of all the wrong things I know and if I'm not careful all the clothes I've carefully accummulated recently won't fit me and I'll have to start again.
While we were there I had a lovely email from one of my old clients asking how I was. We haven't spoken for almost a year. Given my diagnosis and the average survival time - everyone knows that lung cancer's not a good one to have - that was a bold thing to do I reckon. So I was delighted to be able to tell him how I'd been "spared."
And there's a strange thing about all this. Even though it's just over three months since the surgery I keep forgetting completely what's happened in the last year, and have to remind myself. It's almost as if it happened to someone else or that it was just last night's bad dream.
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