Clearing up the mess

I am always surprised at how difficult women find it to load a dishwasher. Each time my wife tries to do it, I find myself having to reload the thing. The problem is, I believe they have no spatial awareness. Dishes are pressed against each other and come out half unwashed; cups are piled higgledy piggley, and won't fit together properly in neat rows; glasses are not proped up and topple over, so come out full of dirty water; forks are placed in tine downwards, so they stop the bottom rotator doing its job; and huge items are placed vertically to stop the top rotator from turning.
Worse still, they don't get the concept of initial rinsing to remove loose pieces, which end up coating the glasses so they have an unwanted coating of crud. I don't know what prevents them from learning, but Ann is sensible and says, "well you do it then!"   Ben says his partner is exactly the same; he has to do it every time, as she refuses to touch it anymore.

Today was crunch time with my urologist, Mr Sengupta. He is a good, serious, surgeon with a firm handshake, who speaks with clarity and looks me in the eye. The news was not good, but he had a box of tissues ready which he passed to Ann. It is stage 3, having passed through the bladder wall, with evidence of possible metastasis to a pelvic gland. I have had lighted candles, prayer meetings, and even a mass said for me! If this were a scientific experiment, I would have to say it has failed to reach statistical significance. However, it has demonstrated what a large group of  people care, and that surely gives strength and hope, even if no physical cure.

The Addenbrooke's team will meet on Monday to decide my fate: some combination of radical cystectomy, chemo and radio therapy, or possibly some experimental treatment, which they are always keen to try out at there. I will be happy to accept their advice to clear up this mess.

Ann is a rock. The last time she was passed tissues was 25 years ago, in the same hospital, when we were given news that the scan for her pregnancy showed an empty sac. But she rose above that to produce an Edwin, weighing in at 13 pounds, and with an Apgar of 10 even after the Caesarian Section. Mr Sengupta asked if she would like to take the box, but she was strong enough to control her distress.

Yesterday, Mike phoned. I have always been proud of a good head of hair. My children used to take it as a sign for a healthy genetic inheritance, but some of them are already getting a bit thin on top. When told I might need chemo, Mike said I'll end up looking like him. I had a haircut yesterday too; I could have saved the money.