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Good grief! Still here. 
I must be competing with Clive James’s record for most embarrassingly long-lived terminally ill cancer patient ever. At least I haven’t made the mistake of writing an entire book of poems about the tragedy of my imminent demise. 1/
I must be competing with Clive James’s record for most embarrassingly long-lived terminally ill cancer patient ever. At least I haven’t made the mistake of writing an entire book of poems about the tragedy of my imminent demise. 1/
Just interminably and repetitively told everyone how much I love them and how much they mean to me and how happy this extra time has been. That’s ok I think. I was at peace with the knowledge of my terminal diagnosis and had discussed my death plan with my family and GP. 2/
Then the pandemic arrived and the death plan appeared to be a non-starter. It seemed as though I would be expected to die alone if the hospice place was available - no family allowed. Or, the unpalatable choice of dying at home, ‘supported’ by an overstretched community team. 3/
I’ve seen that option in action. It’s why I wanted to go into the hospice to die and to spare my husband - he’s afraid of seeing me die. And yes, I did feel ashamed that, when hundreds of thousands are dying and economies are being wrecked, this is still a big issue for me. 4/
I’m one person, not special, not significant. However, I’ve had recent proof that the NHS is still functioning, still providing wonderful care despite the focus on the pandemic. First, I was told that the hospice has been moved, not closed and has extra beds. Families allowed. 5/
Then my husband told my cancer nurse how much pain my spinal tumour is causing and how much radiotherapy had helped last year. We have a global pandemic, I’m 66 and terminally ill, my life expectancy is tiny. I would expect the answer to be, ‘Jog on!’. That was Tuesday. 6/
She phoned on Wednesday. She had spoken to Edinburgh. They wanted me to have an MRI. If there is progression, they will look to giving me some more radiotherapy. The hospital phoned on Thursday. I had my MRI on Friday. A video conference with my oncologist is next Wednesday. 7/
She will discuss the scan with us and whether radiotherapy is an option. My quality of life matters to them, even if my time is short. How amazing to receive this standard of care in the current circumstances. I have been treated with kindness and respect at all times. 8/
We have never had to worry about whether we can afford a treatment or if our insurance will cover it. I have not been thrown under the proverbial bus because I am older and terminally ill and everyone is too busy coping with Covid-19. This is why so many of us revere the NHS. 9/
A society can be judged by the way it treats its most vulnerable citizens. There are so many dispiriting instances of failure to properly fund social care and to provide good care to elderly or disabled or chronically ill citizens. Here’s one example of the NHS still caring.10/
And to finish .... here’s a photo of my ridiculously spoilt ex-battery hens enjoying the Spring sunshine here in Scotland. 
