Stitched up like a kipper

In the grand tradition of, oh, everything so far with this illness, having my stitches removed did not go at all according to plan. The nurse had trouble with the weird varnish the hospital put over the stitches, then had to get metal tweezers to deal with the stitches themselves. The one low down on my tummy came out okay - I think - but the uppermost one in my tummy button started to bleed and had to be gauzed and plastered up, and postponed until Friday.

The nurse had had cancer too - breast cancer - but was unable to reassure me as to the horribleness of chemo. She said she'd had hers at the Horton, and they were really good there. I'm tempted to look into changing hospitals, but fear it would just be too much. Besides, I couldn't get to the Horton on my own; also, the Churchill has the Maggie's Centre - if I ever manage to get there!

Two nice things happened: Sue Jenkins asked if I might like to do some editing for her small press; and Mandy and Gerry Haines sent a HUGE box of Hotel Chocolat choklit ... which I shall look forward to very much, when I can eat properly again.

Stoopid cancer.