The elders have arrived and I waited some more this week.

Dear sisters,

Yes, the parents have arrived. They came in giggling about a little incident on the plane, in which a young man dared to refer to them as 'THE ELDERLY', as in: " I always like to help THE ELDERLY", after lending the parents his headphones. And it hasn't stopped since then. Each program is assessed to see if it is suitable for geriatrics. It is getting rather boring.

In reality, they have settled into their basement suite quite nicely, my fridge is now stocked up with organic foods and I have not been allowed in the kitchen much, which in the meantime has also been rearranged. And yes, dear sisters, mother brought her own pinny! We have been eating lots of dishes with beans, vegetables and a wonder spice called turmeric, which aside from their cancer fighting properties, have, I am sorry to say, less pleasurable side effects, resulting in involuntary movements within the body. You can't find a quiet corner in the house.

Jip has been introduced to the art of knitting and is in rugby training. Both grandparents have personally demonstrated the somersault, which I am not sure was wise, but Jip and Rosie are practising hard to get up to their level.

Grandparents and grandchildren left this morning for two nights away. This means TWO NIGHTs alone in our own home! The idea of this luxury confused us so much, that Allard and I resorted to the one thing we can fall back on when in doubt: retail therapy. And yes, they look pretty cool.



You could nearly forget there is that other litttle matter. That little matter is being surgically removed on Tuesday, I am glad to say. We are getting started.

I also volunteered to participate in a study program which involves three MRI scans over the course of my treatment. I had the first one last week. I had forgotten how claustrophobic I am. You glide into a very narrow tube, head and all. I kept my eyes tight shut, but my arms touched the side, so I was, at all times, fully aware I had nowhere to go. My breathing inmediately became faster; my chest was going up and down like mad. The whole idea is to lie absolutely still as the machine is so sensitive, so I hope my 45 minutes of torture were not for nothing and they managed to get some usable pictures. It did get better after a while. When you are inside you hear drumming sounds at different intervals. I tried to imagine I was in the desert at Burning Man, WHERE WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THIS WEEKEND, and there was someone drumming in the background. I will have to practice. I kept being jolted back to the very narrow tube, being absloutely unable to move, with my boobs hanging down through two openings in the bed. I am probably dreading the next time more than my surgery on Tuesday.

All in the name of science.



Love S1