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Because that's what friends do

6 0 0

THE lift doors opened and out came Miriam straight into my room opposite. She carried two smart paper bags – one with my latest laundry, the other to carry away my forbidden stash of nicotine cartouches.

I had called her for help barely two hours earlier and she had simply said, ‘What time?’

And here she was; T-shirted and cool in three-quarter length trousers ready and happy to do my bidding because that’s what friends do.

I had been given similar warning that I was to move to Montauban’s large general hospital for four/five days of invasive tests I’m utterly dreading.

Without going in to the seemingly ever-increasing horror of it all, I had, after a discussion with my son, seen the logic of understanding the truth of what I’m facing and going from there in the fastest time possible.

He and his bilingual wife, had, with my permission, a lengthy call with the doctor and the die was cast but it was ultimately up to me as would be every stage thereafter.

I may be a coward but, sadly, a compos mentis one – not an easy combination I’m finding.

It took less than an hour from my giving the doctor the go-ahead to instigate tests to find the primary bastard, when I was told I was moving the following morning.........

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