why am I here?

I have no idea why I am here.

Here is Watford General hospital, slap-bang in the middle of a ward full of people who clearly do know why they are here.

Tomorrow I am having my Central Line administered - a procedure that I've been told will be done under local anaesthetic. And yet, I am here going through some preparation normally reserved for people who are having a general anaesthetic. Like, "nil by mouth" from midnight. I've already explained that isn't going to happen, as at the moment, due to the cancer, I am sweating a lot at night and I frequently wake with a drowning sensation, where I must have water in the same way you must have air. I have snuck myself in a bottle of water to sip. Plus it's about 45 degrees in here. If I don't drink water, by the morning I will resemble a Pot Noodle and they will have to take me to theatre on the end of the spade.

This is actually the ward I will be having my two 5 day chemo treatments in, although I have been working on the ward manager who knows me, to get me a side-room. I am becoming a known face around these parts and I think the is a certain degree of sympathy for my situation and age. I'm confident they will sort something out.

I spent most of waking day at Watford General as well. Returning big bottles of urine, which I collected on Sunday. More blood was taken and some swabs to check for MSRI. There's always something. On the plus side I got a lot more opiates.

Oh yes, opiates. Well, thank fuck for that. Painkillers that can kill pain. I was beginning to think I was asking for the impossible. I would appear that you've got to get to that 'probably hopeless' situation before they are ready to open the proper medicine cabinet.

They have a big sedative effect and take certain edges off life. My life has far too many edges, so I wont miss a few.

I am still a bit grumpy and shutting down into a bubble. I don't like being poked much. Hence, if you've tried to call in the cast few days and I haven't answered, it's because I don't want to be explaining the same sodding things over and over again. Which I seem to be doing regardless of how much groundwork I put in, or how simply I lay things out. It's me ... I have a bad attitude at the moment and I just want this sodding operation over with, so I can ... Well, so I can start dreading the return to this shithole on Sunday in peace.

The iPad is my lifesaver. I'm typing from it now and I have loaded it up with some movies, music and games to help my block out the scenes around me.

I don't know why I'm here. I won't sleep a wink. I will be in a worse state than if I came in tomorrow am. Fuck it, apparently these people know what they are doing.

Right?