I did an interview this week with BBC radio (programme goes out July 11th - I'll post a link) about growing resistant to cancer drugs. The programme's editor, Deborah Cohen, came over the same afternoon Blair and Brown were changing guard, and unpacked her square bits of equipment on my dining room table while the edgy reporters on Downing Street were desperately trying to fill empty bits of space while Brown had his extra-long time with QEII.
The programme's really about herceptin and growing resistant to it, which feels kind of last-yearish to me - I'm worrying about getting resistant to tykerb now. But while we were talking, I realised that what's really new with cancer is this sense of living longer. So, for example, right now, the other mothers at school - most of whom haven't seen me for several weeks now - have no sense of what kind of illness this is. Is this cancer you die from? Recover from? And the truth is I don't know either, and none of the medical people answer these questions either. This is the unknown of now - so everybody just says, take each day as it comes.
Today, maybe because I did too much this week, I find myself unable to get out of bed again, which is a surprise after a week of getting up and getting dressed. So I do my bed things: I've started attempting the Guardian Quick Crossword, which was a stimulant for a bit, until every time I got stumped Nina said, 'just look that up on the internet' and now I do that - too tempting not to - and you get the quick fix answers, but less satisfaction! Still anybody know a famous controversy, five words and seven words - second letter A, fourth letter S, eighth letter L, tenth letter B and last letter G? (always supposing I got the other clues right...)