Ten is a bird you must not miss

Crikey. More magpies than I think I have ever seen in the car park as we left the Churchill this afternoon. Enough for a wish, at least, if not a letter. Maybe even something better.

All of which I deserve, if you ask me.

Two weeks ago - almost exactly - I was watching Merlin when I started to be violently sick. Do not be like that: I like Merlin. It quickly became clear that this couldn't be left until the morning, so I had to drag poor Judy out and beg her to get me (and the bear, and the go bag) to the Churchill. It only took two hours - or was it four? - to get this organised with the Churchill, who finally found a bed for me on the Lower GI ward. Sounds nasty, but it wasn't as bad as it might have been - I managed to get a first-class bed in a side room, with its own telly and all, so I had privacy, and didn't even have to miss Downton. And the staff there were very good. Way better than on Oncology!

Of course, it couldn't last, and they dragged me back to an Oncology bay by the end of the week. Ah, well. While it lasted, it was good. I was there for the weekend: then they moved me to the Sobell House Hospice, where I have another side room. The Hospice is very pleasant - rather like a cottage hospital in a children's book from the 1950s - although, obviously, I would rather be home - safely - and well. But, for now, I shall be grateful for how lucky I am.

I have had something of a problem with isolation, being in hospital for so long with no access to the outside world. Apparently there is WiFi in the Day Treatment Centre though, so I may take the netbook with me when I go back.

Currently I am on what they call "weekend leave" - which makes me feel as though I should have an ankle tag. Well, I do, pretty much: I have a hospital name band on each wrist, my PICC line, and a morphine pump with a subcutaneous attachment. The pump is a wee bit large and bulky, and has (of course) been dropped several times, but it gives me some relief, so again it is something to be grateful for.

The problem remains the same and shows no sign of getting better. I am expecting/hoping for a permanent ascitic drain to be installed at some point, which I hope may give some relief. Other than that - well, let that remain behind the veil.

Speaking of being behind the veil, I damn' near was myself, or so I thought for a bit, when an exceptionally clumsy doctor informed me that I had only a few weeks to live. Ulp. What?! But then he caught me in the corridor shortly after and said no, he had read my charts wrong and things were not that desperate.

Um. Better that way round than t'other ...? I don't really know what to say. Other than, of course: twat.

So, here I am back home, if only for a short time. It's lovely, although I'm still a bit panicky. But, as Judy pointed out, the Hospice can't keep me forever. If only there were some way to have a nurse on call constantly when you're at home!

Thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive, with gifts and their time. I'm too tired and wobbly to reciprocate fully or in kind, as I would like, but I am very thankful.

Most of all, as you might imagine, for Judy. I can't even begin to tell you how wonderful she's been, or how grateful I am, or how much I owe her - for these two weeks, and for all the time since I've had cancer, and for all the years before. I never said it enough, and I'm sorry for that; I wish there were some way to make it up now.

I suppose everyone wishes that. I am sure there were eight magpies in the car park. That should be plenty - ?