Still not clear if this experiment is working. But then a weekly listing of things to be grateful for in the belief that it could increase levels of happiness and stamina can't hurt - can it?

So, this week in no particular order we have:-

1. There were TWO money off vouchers inside Ned's dog food, not one... £1 sterling, instead of the ten shillings promised.. HA!
2. We live in an area of outstanding natural beauty which also happens to be very conveniently located near a Poundland. Entirely possible that there is no better shop yet. Everything's a pound! DUR. Check out the bangles - Missoni inspired and £1 for three, yes not £1 each, but £1 for all three of them. Read it and weep oh ye outside of Cheesetown.
3. I have a voicemail from a recruitment consultant who wants to talk to me. It's entirely possible I won't phone at all, but just listen to the message "Macy, I'm extremely interested in your CV..." endlessly...
4. Being redundant means ever getting that Monday morning feeling.
   
5. The sun is out over Lothian. Repeat THE SUN IS OUT.

Yes really - never let it be said I never get round to the Big Subjects...

I have a friend, let's call her Sparkle. Sparkle has also been through a couple of Hard Times, three kids, and a husband confined to a wheelchair for the past couple of years. Sparkle tells me she has found much solace in prayer. She can see it was absolutely predestined that I should move back from Glasgow to be with W at this time. It can't be just coincidence that W, Cherub and I should be reunited.

I have refrained from pointing out that in order for this happy reunion to take place, W should die, the Cherub lose his father, and I break up with the Dybbuk.
AND in order for W to die at home, it seems that both Nurse Linda and I need to be made redundant first.

Not wanting to rain on God's big plan or anything, but any fule can see a winning lottery ticket would have been easier all round...

And so the "bounce" (cf. Nurse June) continues...W's recovery is currently bouncing off the charts, and he is all set and ready to come home again. On Monday Dr K broke the news to Linda and me that with proper medical care it was not impossible that he could last for months. Months??? as of last Sunday we were thinking in terms of days. Two beaming faces was obviously not what Dr K was expecting on breaking her news. She warned us that Christmas "could be problematic". Christmas!! Jeez we didn't think we'd be discussing Hallowe'en!

Dr K accepted she was dealing with a couple of smiling idiots, and continued to outline what was going to be needed in the immediate future: viz Monday, Wednesday and Friday drugs will be dropped off for W. Every morning a district nurse will attend to change the intrathecal which is currently pumping class A drugs into his spine; and every Tuesday W will return to the hospice for a check up and to get the intrathecal pump cleaned.

Simples.
W is ready to return.

Except that he can't. Because the district nurses can't cope with changing the intrathecal. This is outside their current field of expertise. They will need training.
No, we don't know how soon training can be completed. So, you know, we are back to W being stuck in limbo in the hospice again.

Luckily for W, Nurse Linda was a staff nurse in her past life. She ran teams of nurses. She's not letting some lily-livered district nurses dictate where and when W can be treated. She has experience of intrathecals already; apparantly it's not rocket science. Two other friends of ours also have nurse training. Drawing on their nursing backgrounds, and my own incredibly useful accountancy training( ...) she has pulled together an alternative nursing corps. We will all receive training on intrathecals from the hospice and care for W until such time as the district nurses can catch up with us!

Ha!

Nurse Macy...obviously the junior nurse in such robust company but just watch me learn to wield the needles!

Behold the classic 2002 Mazda MX5! To quote Jeremy Clarkson it's "the ultimate driving experience". Get the specs on this

• 1,839 cc 1.8 liters 4 in-line front engine with 83 mm bore, 85 mm stroke, 10 compression ratio, double overhead cam, variable valve timing/camshaft and four valves per cylinder
• Multi-point injection fuel system
• 142 HP @ 7,000 rpm; 125 ft lb , 170 Nm @ 5,000 rpm
• Wishbone front and rear suspension with stabilizer bar independent with coil springs
• Coefficient of drag: 0.38
• Leather covered steering wheel
• Wind deflector behind seats

In other words it goes fast and is a blast to drive.

BUT

As a two seater, it can just about hold myself, cherub and Ned. What it cannot do is

• Accomodate cherub + one other pal
• Accomodate two dogs
• Allow easy access and exit for anyone with stage 4 bone cancer. To do this, you need to take the roof down and sort of drop them into the seat.

Memo to self, get job, get new car.

So on Sunday when I was sat down and talked through some very likely, and very bad outcomes, the one bit of hope offerred from June the hospice nurse was that "sometimes the young can bounce back for a wee while".

And we do indeed have a bounce...

After a night in quarantine, a battery of tests, and samples taken to check for c-difficile or other complications, it's..well it's as if someone has switched on the lights again.

The cherub and I got to the hospice last night to find W sitting up in bed bantering with the nurse. Since lunchtime he'd had two visitors, been texting and receiving calls, been out of bed, albeit attached to a drip, and when we arrived was joking about the pipe band music wafting down the corridor.

He has no memory at all of Sunday, tremors, stomach upsets, semi consciousness and my trying to wake him. Being manhandled downstairs and into my car never happened.

As of today he is free to leave the hospice on day release again. So here we are - back where we started Friday night.

We're not on a "journey", we're on a bl**dy roundabout.