Yesterday was busy. We had the Family Team in; Alice and her Martin stopped by to move my bed to a more accessible position. A heck of a logistics effort, speedily and smoothly done! and backed up by Lucy and Tom and Maggie, Mary's sister.

But it did require me to get out of bed, and get down stairs - which I did, and which took quite an effort. And after that, I was, naturally, quite tired. So not too surprising to me to find myself low on energy today and also, not particularly hungry, either. So I started gently, had two bits of toast, ate my pills like a good lad, and did a bit of trypewriter work and listened to the Andrew Marr show on Radio Four, and then - dozed off.

My oncologist rang, saying that the blood tests really didn't show anything either wonderful or worrying about them, and was more interesting in "How do you feel?" to which the answer is "Quite relaxed, not very energetic, taking the day easily..." and so on.

That is, really, pretty much what I'd expect in the final stages of a terminal illness: a sense of fading purpose, a sense of reducing energy, and a sense of withdrawal. Especially with the organ affected being the liver, and everybody I know having a cold, and my doctor has sent out for antibiotics "just in case" and a couple of peaks in temperature to around 101 F - nicely brought down by paracetamol - confirming her in making this a priority. So, no prognosis one way or another, but "there could be residual infection, so let's stamp on it."

If that's what it is, I'll gradually  improve and start to feel a bit better, and in that case, I may have a couple of months of gentle recovery before the end. If it's just "slowing down for the last station" then I might have a couple of weeks and just "fade to grey" as the final script directive. Either way, I know my place ("bottom of page 94, sir!") and neither script is worrying me. Heck, I may even have a surprise!

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