Results from more scans, CT and bone but it's all just blah blah blah. Maria has rallied and is in the mood for heroics - she wants more chemo, the whole nine yards - the original protocol from A-Z all over again, a humeral prosthesis, nine months of treatment and six more cycles of chemo. We are askance. She's just doing her job but she misjudges it badly and she is nowhere near where we are. The meeting goes badly and we part with no course of action decided on. Rose is at school on a trip to the park and I am meant to be with her not planning her slow motion car crash. That night Maria gets Tim Briggs to call me and have another attempt at pushing chemo. We agree to meet later in the week to talk it through again without Rose.
It is both children's last week at school before the summer break that they are both so excited about. They both think we are cramming eight weeks with fun and trips - the Isle of Wight, Corfu with the cousins and we go through all the motions of Founders Day, cricket matches, induction afternoons with new teachers that one of them will never be taught by, packing up and proudly bringing home their year's work. Rose's school pulls off a new low by requesting that the children fill a memory box to be opened on the last day of next year with photos, letters to themselves and precious things. Jesus. You literally couldn't make this up.
