Or perhaps it will be like the chest x-ray (which revealed a mysterious cracked rib - but I didn't do anything to crack it - some gremlin is in there, cracking them for me).
When I walked back out of the room, past the technician's desk, I sneaked a peek over her shoulder (how stupid was that), and sure enough, two egg-perfect glowing shapes, staring back at me. How extraordinary: perfectly symmetrical cancer. It took about two minutes to think, "hang on, they're my kidneys". Poor, supportive J, sitting through my melodrama three weeks ago, and again tomorrow. Oh, it's not even tomorrow. It's a few hours from right now, today. Am I going to spend all of it typing and typing? It helps. Does anyone read this stuff? Does it matter? And thank you, Ipod Shuffle: neatly timed, Richard Ashcroft 'The Drugs Don't work'. Well, you're spot on there, mate.
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