Gently does it.

Here’s me with a bear in the hospice. I had a meeting this morning with the palliative consultant. Hilary was here for the meeting. Afterwards, Hilary said “I think you should say something about what she just told us” and so here we go.

One important thing to note is that it was not, in contrast to a lot of healthcare settings, a case of her telling things to us. There was a lot of listening on both sides, and never a sense of having to rush. And from the outset, we agreed that both of us would be as honest as we could be, including words like “disease” and “death” in preference to “condition” and “passing”.

Although I am indeed ill, with a set of unpleasant symptoms that are not disappearing, I am not, she felt, displaying signs of being right at the end (there are some other signals to look out for when that becomes the case). But nor am I anywhere near well enough to manage to be at home. I know how valuable the hospice is, and how disgracefully limited their funding is, and so it worried me that I was taking up one of their valuable beds despite not being on the point of death; but she reassured me that someone with my set of complicated needs, who also has a terminal diagnosis, is exactly the right person to be in that bed. They are busy treating me as a very interesting and worthwhile experimental subject, trying out different drugs, combinations of drugs, cushions, pillows, chairs and bed angles to find the absolute optimum way for me to be as comfortable as I can.

We had many interesting digressions about the nature of medicine and science, and of course about being a writer and which of my currently available books might be the best one for her to start with. As a result, she felt that my cognitive abilities are still at a reassuringly high level.

I am accepting of all of this. I am not raging. I am going gently. The light is not dying; I am going towards it, not away from it. Still, though, here’s Michael Sheen giving the definitive reading. If the night is good, why should we rage? I have known this stuff was coming for the last five years. There is no “battle”, no “brave fight”. I shall miss you all, but not just yet. You can come and have lunch here. You can buy a Colleen Hoover novel from the shop. You can buy a wooden poster saying “Be Yourself”. I welcome visitors, but please let me know in advance if you are thinking of coming.