This is getting boring. They must be sick of the sight of me by now. And I'm certainly sick of the sight, smells and sounds of that place.
Racking my brains to think of where I could have picked something up; the most likely place is the doctors' waiting room, where I went to renew my fit-note. That involved spending half an hour in an airless space with people coughing around me.
Perhaps for the sixth and final session, I should live in an oxygen tent like Michael Jackson, and only go out wearing a mask. I've still got a SARS mask they gave me at Hong Kong airport, I've also got this this rather fine feline article made for the Venetian ball scene. Some say it's sinister.
Not long to go now. Thursday 14th is my last chemo treatment - three weeks after that I can put an end to this neurosis about germs.
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