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Sunday, 8 December 2013

The icky stuff

So I have a new shoulder and no tummy - neither through choice and neither recommended. The surgeons have done an extraordinary job. It all feels rather Channel 4 before and after to be honest. The skin from my tummy has to be checked every two hours to see that it is "taking" and not withering away and I still have a drain, under my arm, which I hope will be removed tomorrow.

I have lots of hopes for tomorrow, most of which will be dashed I suspect. But I cling onto the tiny sliver of hope that I may be a step nearer to home. Meanwhile I munch my way through Bex's biscuits and an early morning cup of tea.

Dying is bloody hard. Trying to live out your dying days as you want seems even harder, as darling Tim said to me last night.

Bloody hard.

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