When I got home yesterday I could tell I had left FL "home alone" for too long - he hadn't been drinking and was exhausted and depressed.
He went to bed with the portable TV and Man. Utd. versus whoever-it-was and only got up again at 10pm, when I was ready to sleep. We had a difficult night of tossing and turning and coughing and muttering.
So it was actually quite a surprise when this morning the GP confirmed that FL is on the mend. His lungs are greatly improved (99% oxygen on their funny little finger-pincer-device). The GP had a letter from the hospital on file, dated 17 September. It gave FL's blood-test results from his appointment that day, noting that his Calcium level is rising. It is still only 2.6, but this indicates that his cancer is gaining pace and depositing calcium into his blood, and therefore threatening the function of his vital organs, most especially his kidneys. The GP made an appointment for FL to have another blood test next week to check whether this week's illness has further-affected his calcium levels.
The rollercoaster is starting to rattle its way down the slope, faster and faster. No chance of delaying Velcade again. In fact, we now have to hope he is well enough for the treatment in two/three weeks' time or... or I don't know what, to be honest with you.
So the GP smiles kindly at him and says "And I hear you were feeling a bit down. What was that about?" And FL blinks at him and says "Well I was ready to go. There's no point in this, is there?" "Are you still feeling that way?" Silence. "I'm not suicidal, if that's what you mean". "So we don't need to do anything about your depression just now then?" "No, no, no"- laughing, coughing.
So there you have it.