Friday gave me the diversion of England's opening game in their 2020 Euros campaign. Without getting too morbid here, I have followed England to various World Cup and Euro finals in recent times, and cynically have always said that they will never win a tournament in my lifetime. That bold statement has a slightly different meaning now. Still Raheem Sterling managed to bag a hat-trick in a 5-0 win over the might of the Czech Republic, so a decent start before the inevitable disappointment. Almost 3 years ago, I, along with many others, hurled abuse at Sterling during the Euro 2016 finals. My sister-in-law joined me at the Russia game in Marseille, and was gobsmacked at how little we got behind the team, and how badly he was singled out. Still, fair's fair, Sterling has taken all that "constructive criticism" to heart, and is now a decent player for club and country. Once the match finished, we shut the office, went and watched the sunset, and yet another alcohol free meal beckoned.
Saturday was spent doing various errands, but also included meeting up with some friends for the first time since the news broke. I help out with an animal rescue charity here, and had to pass my responsibilities (the accounting and banking stuff) to another board member. More descriptions of my ailments, discussions of treatment plans, and a few tears and wobbles. It doesn't get any easier.
We had plans for Sunday, a friend had chartered a boat for a half-day excursion, and a group of us cruised about, drinking and eating and playing in the water. Well, all but me: I couldn't risk getting the chemo port surgical wound wet, so stayed on board, with yet another can of sparking water, whilst the rest frolicked in the water with mimosas and beers. No bad thing, mind: the boat captain was a personal friend I had not seen in ages, so we caught up (he already knew The News). It was a gorgeous day, and pretty much was what the doctor ordered.
We got back home, chilled for a few hours, before taking the dogs for a beach walk. At this point I should mention that we only have 1 dog, but also have a revolving door foster policy (that has been going on for 18 months or so). Presently we have 1 other staying with us, a flighty 6 month-old pup, due to be heading for adoption in a few weeks. It was this pup's first time on the beach, and things didn't go too well. He viewed the sea in a a similar way Damian viewed churches. Coming back up the beach we happened on some friends having sun-downers, so joined them, and watched a fine sunset (not as good as last week, way better than most) before heading back for food. One of the friends has a sister in the UK working in the NHS: he had spoken to her about our plans, and the informed response was that it all made sense. Which provided some much needed validation.
Going to bed Sunday night, the hope for the coming week was that we get news from MD, and then can start putting the plan into effect.