Ups and downs
After the annual Gondor banquet that I wrote about a few weeks ago we always have a self-congratulatory Gosh-Aren't-We-Good! party to pat ourselves on the heads. (It's a tiring exercise, we have big heads.) I did the cooking this year and that was the best bouillabaisse I've ever made. I wonder what made it so kick-ass. Yum! With killer aioli.
Less cheerful was the news that the friend I wrote about some days later has been told that her case is hopeless. They will try to slow down the spread of her aggressive tumour to give her as many extra months that they can (provided the chemo doesn't destroy her quality of life, I assume), but they can't cure her. It will soon be game over. I don't know how many months they have given her. Fuck.
Less cheerful was the news that the friend I wrote about some days later has been told that her case is hopeless. They will try to slow down the spread of her aggressive tumour to give her as many extra months that they can (provided the chemo doesn't destroy her quality of life, I assume), but they can't cure her. It will soon be game over. I don't know how many months they have given her. Fuck.