Nothing's gunna hurt me with my eyes shut.

The man in the room next to me was released on Friday. He had been in for a few days having being re-admitted after a longer stay on the ward. I was surprised initially because I could hear through the walls that he wasn't well. He had leukaemia. On speaking with the nurse I realised he had been released because there was nothing further the hospital could do for him. He is going to die.

Sometimes life is grim. Cancer is an exceptionally cruel disease. The treatment is nauseating at best and usually much worse. And depending on the type of cancer, you are far from guaranteed a happy outcome. This doesn't come as a shock to me, people in my family have had the disease and my Nana died from it. I can only hope she didn't suffer like the man next to me was. 

Everyone has in some way been affected by cancer. Yet still on Friday morning I felt naive, stupid even. I hadn't even spoken to the man, he is nothing but a stranger to me. But the news of his fate really shook me. (Chemo by the way can pull down your mood, I'm not soft or anything, I mean I don't cry at most films!) (Although the first time I saw The Lion King I had to be taken out of the cinema because I was crying so much when Mufasa died. Scar was a bastard.)

Unless directly exposed to them, we are blind to the injustice of life. You have to be, any kind hearted person couldn't function otherwise. But this experience has taught me that life is a gift, not a right. We should treasure it and live it to its fullest. (Maybe I should join the priesthood? I haven't had sex for a while and this is sounding very preachy!)

I'm pleased we have our own separate rooms on this haematology ward. Most people here have leukaemia (cancer of the blood). All are unwell and some are dying. Throughout the last two years I have never felt unwell with MS. I have felt weak, demoralised and humiliated but not unwell. I feel slightly fraudulent being here. The treatments we are receiving are no less dangerous, many on the ward won't be having a transplant at all. The difference is my treatment is life defining, theirs is life deciding. Given the conditions we have we are all fortunate to be here but I feel especially so.

I began writing this blog on Friday morning. The man next door was never released. He was clearly too unwell to go home and presumably they could not find him a bed at a hospice. I think he died in the early hours of Sunday morning.

Life is finite and we spend so much of it worrying about the most insignificant of things. (I've lost my hair after the first stage of chemo a few weeks ago. I don't look nearly as good with a bald head as Natalie Portman did in V For Vendetta and this disappoints me. Doesn't surprise me like, after all I never looked nearly as good with hair as Natalie Portman in Black Swan!) As long as we and those we love our safe, healthy and happy then we should be grateful.

This has been a bit of a gloomy read and I think part of appreciating life is to laugh so I'll leave you with a joke.

Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off.

(Copyright Tommy Cooper.)