Now I feel a wee bit guilty..

…. because you've put such lovely things on the blog, in repsonse to my miserable outpouring of BLAAAAAH that I feel like a selfish git.

There are so many people who don't have even a hundredth of the warmth, support, pisstake and lightning responses that I do – but at least I know this, and don't for a minute take it for granted. I think that post generated by far the highest number of comments ever (maybe I should be miserable more often? Or 'even more often' as Hawksey would probably add).

And your texts & emails have also been a nice light to brighten the day – Lyds, you write brilliantly, your honesty and love are searing, and always give me the buzz of joy for meeting you later in life, when top friendship can be harder to find. (Plus, the story of you getting off the camel in Rajasthan to have a crap in a sand dune is one I take such pleasure in recounting). But I digress…

I think its just that being in my funny old situation changes so much and makes you question everything – of course starting with the unanswerable 'why me?' in terms of getting this shitty thing in the first place. Right through to literally looking at blossom on the trees, people out shopping, anything at all and trying to literally drink it in, absorb all the amazing greatness and minutiae that this world has to offer before it all changes again.

I mean when I have to go back on those bastard drugs – I remember all too clearly that they may have been doing a good job overall last time, but that I couldn't think, walk downstairs without thinking I might fall, even get up from the sofa properly… and I just SO SO SO don't want to do all that again. Not least because it made me less 'me' – still me of course deep down, but with a shroud (ooh possibly a bad choice of word!) obscuring everything, a bit like swimming through treacle or trying to finish of a whole plate of Pam's chipolatas on your own. 6 months of enduring a bad hangover, being punctured endlessly with needles and knowing that despite all the shit you've been through, you still haven't earnt your stripes / beaten the beast – and that it's just behind a heavy wooden door, breathing heavily so you can always hear it, waiting to swing open again and gallop after you, some unknown day or month soon.

And then I feel guilty again, to indulge my fears, as so many people don't come through treatment and I am unbelievably lucky to be here – seeing everyone, being able to laugh, playing sport, sitting here with no broken bones. Not many Myeloma bods get a straw as long as this one, and I frequently think of those who have already gone, and it's things like Ayub's situation that unsurprisingly bring it to the fore.

Oh, and Puritans people – the post may have read more harshly than I meant. Sometimes my mental musings and questionings come out more definitively than they are meant to. I think the vodka in the Le T bars was watered down this year, and I put any 'couldn't quite get there this year' issues firmly down to that. For seeing you all, especially the Epsomites whom I don't see as much as I'd like to (given that you don't have the essential London postcodes), is a real treat. You are the shiny cupcakes in the Le Touquet tea party and long may the icing on this particular cake continue.

Anyway – suffice it to say that your good vibes are hugely appreciated. And even though I have just been caught typing this in the office by the No.2 in the whole of AV (whoops), it was too important not to say it.

Love you guys. Will let you know what tomorrow brings.

Sx