Lady Boys of Thailand

Its been freezing and I have noticed something. Its colder in bed than ever before. And there is a good reason. I don't have any hairs on my legs anymore. This has happened in the last week or so. I quizzed Laura whether she has been secretly applying some sort of hair removal product to my legs as part of some fetish practice when I have been comatose. Not so, she assures me. This bizarre development - my beard is intact etc - has led me to have dreams of the dysfunctional character of the Norwich radio presenter, Alan Patridge, and his ladyboy sketch. And I am the one doing the lap dancing. I think I will have words with the oncos re what they are putting in the cocktail at this stage...in the meantime, I have got enough wooly hats folks but some leather thongs would be...

Actually the person I really want to speak to is one of the chemo nurses - V. She is the nearest thing to Florence Nightingale. Conscientious, caring, sensitive, intelligent, knowledgeable - in short, she has in abundance all the important attributes of her profession. We get called from the waiting room by the nurse who will inject the chemo, and its always uplifiting to see V or M. But particularly V. She gave up work in C10 a couple of years back. The nights were too much for her. What I really want to know is what the work was like up there in that ward. How do nurses deal with the "events" that take place there..? To me that place epitomises danger. Danger one can do very little about.

I am unlikely to even get onto the subject. The banter is too lighthearted in the day unit and I guess there is good reason for that.