The second person

Fuck – actually had quite a decent day in the office, catching up on stuff, filing emails, sorting out bits and pieces, getting on top of all the mindless small stuff - and then I get one of those call that totally takes the wind out of your sails, and you realise what a total waste of time everything to do with work actually is, in comparison to what's going on elsewhere.

The second one of my Under 50's group, Amanda Skelton, died yesterday. Her poor sister Pam is working her way through Amanda's mobile phone, letting people know that she 'lost her battle' (the utterly inadequate euphemism for all the horrors she went through) yesterday. And asking me to let the Under 50s know – a rotten task as several of them are facing the decision of having a donor transplant as she did. And Amanda had a sibling match for her stem cells which should have made her odds better than average – instead, she is one of the 50% who die within a year of the treatment. Having lost 5 stone. Having ended up in a wheelchair. In 'palliative care' (hate that pathetic, understatement of a phrase). Leaving a 10 year old daughter who lost her dad to jaw cancer 4 years ago, and now her mum too. Bloody hell, life really does suck sometimes.

I feel so guilty – taking the call in the office (well, I wasn't expecting it) where I am healthy, working and so lucky to be OK for now. Just like when Neil died, I'd been in touch with her to see how she was going, and hadn't yet had a text back to update me. All a bit obvious why not, now. Major sigh.

Am not quite sure what to think to be honest – it's a weird mixture of guilt (because she'd been through hell when I'm not), relief (because its not me), resignation (because for everyone's good wishes and heartfelt hopes, this is what still happens), sadness (because it's such a bloody waste of another good person in this world), tiredness (because this sodding thing saps the hell out of your mental energies) and terrible fear (because it makes it all the more real that this is my probably future). Phhhhllluuurrrgghhghhhh.

What a fucking crock of toss. Not to put too fine a point on it. She had a great turn of phrase in her blog – two examples below:

1) Don't seen to be losing my hair this time round – no one was able to confirm one way or the other whether I would or not. Still a slight chance it'll go south, but hopefully not. It's getting quite long now and is looking less SuBo. However, if I were to wear a Grandad collar shirt and a neckerchief, I'd be a dead ringer for David Essex, in his "Romany" phase

2) Pentamadine is an antibiotic. Tastes a bit funny, but no problem. Not as foul as the itraconazole liquid I take twice a day – a heady cocktail of white wine vinegar and earwax – yum! My biggest problem is … what will I do when Celebrity Big Brother ends on Friday? With what will I fill my extensive leisure hours when there's no celebutard fuckwit antics to take delight in? I always enjoy CBB but I've been able to devote rather more time than usual to it, for this it's final swansong. I even like Alex Reid, whom I previously thought was a twat of the highest order. He's as thick as shit, but rather sweet with it. Shame Heidi Fleiss went out so early; her face is such a car wreck – it's endlessly entertaining. You find yourself wondering what bit will fall off first.

Hey ho…. what can you say, except shake your head and think how precious every second of life is.

How you'd be crazy to waste a single hour of a day because you can't get those moments of potential happiness back, once it's all gone wrong.

How that sweatshirt slogan 'better a bad day on the water / piste is better than a good day in the office' is so true – and should read 'better a bad day while you're healthy than a good day stuck in hospital'.

How strange it is that in a minute I'll get up and the few people left in the office will either ignore me as I slope off, or say 'night Scotty', not having a clue what goes on behind my Oscar-like inscrutable smile.

How stupid the slight snit that H and I left each other on this morning was – and how quick I'll be to hug him tighter tonight

How fragile it all is.

How fast it can all go wrong.

How desperately precious time is.

How much you all mean to me and how I want to spend as much time as humanly possible in your (disreputable, dubious and downright rude) company in the coming months, and years.

Here's to Amanda – you deserved so much better.

Scotty.