The 23rd of October.
I am a social butterfly today! Well, more of a press butterfly.
After my morning drugs, we got home in time to have breakfast before Claire and the photographer from the Sutton Observer came. We took some photos in my room - have no idea what they look like so that'll be a fun surprise! Then we sat at the dining table and I told her the entire saga from beginning to end. Because it's my life, I forget just how complex and frankly, utterly shit it has been. Our reaction to my impending demise has been "Well, that's pants. Right, let's carry on." and I think that shocks people a little bit, but really, what else can you do?
This afternoon, I just had time to have a coffee before Alison from the Birmingham Mail came, she met Oscar, and I related my tale once again. It turns out that she went to school with Christine! She was two years above her but recognised her. What a small world. Then after she left, Becky and Alison (different Alison) came over and Becky has asked me to be her maid of honour! Not that she's getting married yet, but it really is a question of when and not if, and she had planned that I would be in that role. So we will do planning and dress shopping while I'm still here, so I'll be there in spirit and fabric if not in person.
Tonight I have Derek who is a super good military nurse. Hooray!
Tomorrow is the last day that I have to get up at 5.10am. For now, anyway.
The 24th of October.
My last dose of antibiotics tonight for a while, anyway. Derek appears to be in hiding, but I am assuming that means he's in the IV room. I hope so.
This morning we got home with time for me to make porridge and catch up with Homeland before going back out to meet Ang. I arrived before she did, so I got a latte and had a brief chat with Aaran until she appeared. She had brought me pastry-based desserts! But half past ten is too early for pudding, so we settled for coffee and chat. Then we both had Eggs Royale, which involved tiny muffins which are the best kind. We just had a nice time reminiscing about old times and updating on new times. Nostalgia is a side effect of dying.
Leisa did my lunchtime drugs and changed my dressing, then we got home about ten minutes before the photographer from the Mail arrived. He was a pleasant chap; we talked about our respective cats and how awkward hands are in photos. Oscar was completely freaked out by the camera flash.
After he'd gone, I finished an email to Alison from the Mail who had some more questions about how I feel about my death. Honestly, I am trying not to feel anything about it. If I sit and let myself really wallow in the fact I will probably not see my 24th birthday, I will never get married or even have been loved in a romantic sense by the time I shuffle off this mortal coil, I will just drown in misery and I can't do that. I don't think I'd have the strength to come back to the surface.