Tuesday, Christmas Eve, and I am awake early to the sound of my youngest grandson chortling. It is not long before his mum brings him in to see me and we discover that he likes the thermometer I use to take my vitals. He is a delight and soon gets the hang of how to make it work and reward him with a smiley face and a beep. The family are up and around except my eldest daughter who is still suffering from her cold/flu/lerg. As they have breakfast and my partner beavers away with Christmas cooking I have a shower and wash my hair in preparation for the annual Christmas trip to my partners mother to have a Christmas Eve meal. The morning gallops ahead with cooking until the grandson goes for his morning nap as we start on the posh chocolate biscuits. The only excitement is the postman delivering my latest oncology summary. Apparently I am felling well in myself and doing okay. The meaningful new data is that I am being monitored for signs of heart failure but these blood results do not show up on my usual blood results so I am dependant on the oncology team sharing these with me, which I am not content with.

In the afternoon the family goes to see my partners mother. there are less of us each year to be available to go due to work commitments and other family things that need to be done. My partner’s mother is in fine form and we leave her with her carer and a Christmas dinner for the next day. Once home we tuck into the crockpot that has been bubbling away for the day and spend the evening in anticipation of the coming Christmas day. Before my meds I and my youngest’s daughters fiancée perform the Santa chores of stacking things below the Christmas tree.