X ray visions

The long silence is not due to anything sinister - rather that my life has suddenly become rather full. Full of going into town for radiotherapy, doing things with children and cooking and having my sister and family to stay etc. The treatment is so much better than I'd imagined and a week has already passed since the first - so a fifth of the way there - or 20% - whichever is shorter - or longer? I usually take the 73 to Euston Square and walk the last 15 minutes and as the weather has been glorious and the route takes in plenty of little coffee shops and delis - it is the sort of rambling I enjoy. On the way back I often find myself in JL having a mooch, or coffee, or lunch.

Radiotherapy is no more than lying on a bed in the same position every day (the lasers are matched up to my tattoos) while they shoot a high dose x ray at my boob - first from top right - then the machine rotates and shoots it from bottom left. The whole thing takes about 5 minutes - and leaves the skin looking a little sunburned - but that's about it. They say that the side effects will start to kick in after about 3 weeks - but for now I am pretty well and active with just the odd bout of fatigue. My legs have good days (like yesterday - when I managed a whole day's shopping with Helen) and less good (like today - when I have had to spend all afternoon in bed) - but I am so grateful for the good days and the bad ones seem to be getting less frequent.

I took both the children with me to the hospital separately and the staff were fantastic - letting them play with all the buttons, lie on the bed and watch me on the camera. After Luc asked me last week if you could die from radiotherapy I decided that demystifying the whole process could only be a good thing. Their different reactions to the whole thing were interesting - Emily - as usual - fairly sang froid - apparently able to read the x ray they showed her at first glance but decide that the whole thing was a lot less interesting than the planned trip to JL to meet my cousin Jane and choose baby items. Luc worried about the fact that everyone had to leave the room during the treatment, asking why it was safe for me to still be in there. He also insisted on the obligatory JL visit (I have taught them well) but for nothing as frivolous as baby browsing. He was desperate for me to buy him a diary which he now writes in religiously and secretly every evening at his big desk using his box of sharp red Luc Domange pencils.

Half term approaches and I have somehow ended up with 9am appointments every day while the kids are in Shropshire and I have no need to get up at 7am - but it means I then have the whole day to do other important things - such as watch back to back DVDs of Lost series 3 which my lovely neighbours are kindly passing to me one by one. Improbable though the whole thing is - there is something compelling to me about a group of people whose lives explode and they find themselves in an entirely new world, lost, afraid and disorientated. After a period of time facing all sorts of demons and reflecting on their past, they come to a clearer understanding of who they are, and adapt to their new surroundings....no surprises there then....

My hair is coming back with enthusiasm - I noticed on the bus as the sun hit my face at a certain angle that even the lone goatee hair on my right cheek had made a comeback. I had hoped it might feel it not worth the effort. The hair on my head is so thick you can no longer see my scalp shining through and I was chuffed when someone asked me how many weeks it had taken to grow so long! (Yes, it was at the cancer clinic - but I was grateful nonetheless.)

I forget that in the outside world I still look as if I've just been discovered having an affair with a German soldier so when I took my hat off in the stifling tube today had to put up with some not very discreet staring - but its a small price to pay.