Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts

20100324

Tuesday May 20, 1975


Hot day. At lunchtime I have a few photographs taken for my ten year passport. They look really grotty, but not all that bad when you think it costs about £2 to be photographed by a cravat-wearing Old Etonian with a lisp and double-barrelled name for something very similar, but probably a bit more glossy. Don't take this as an insult to Lord Snowdon please, because nothing was further from my mind. OK, he may be an Old Etonian with a camera, but he doesn't lisp, and hasn't worn a cravat in donkey's years.

At 4.30 armed with a bottle of Lucozade I marched on Leeds Infirmary and threw myself upon my ailing aunt, the one and only Mabel Paine. I didn't recognise her at first because she seems to have lost a good deal of weight since we last met, but otherwise she was very cheerful. The thought of having cancer worried her to death (Oops) of course, but they've assured her now that it's all clear. No more treatment required, and by Sunday she'll be a free woman again. I really despise hospitals. The smells and the general lay-out make me weak at the knees. It was so nice to get out into the fresh air at about 6 o'clock - away from the stench of death and illness. I only hope to God that I'll never have to spend any length of time in such a place. Mind you, by the time I'm 60 they'll have done away with hospitals and they'll be injecting OAPs with cyanide. The nice, easy way out.

See 'Edward VII' at 9 o'clock, and retire at 11.

-==-

20100323

Wednesday May 14, 1975


Busy day really. Overcast and cloudy again. Home at 5.30 and have tea straight away. I'm always half starved on an evening, because I rarely eat anything during the day.

Poor Auntie Mabel didn't have a cyst after all. It was cancer, and whilst they were operating on her today they removed her breast. A horrible, petrifying thought I know, but if it stops the malignant thing from getting any worse that is all that matters. I'll have to call in and help cheer her up one afternoon this week. It must be horrible being in hospital. I'd like to think I was going to be healthy and reasonably fit until the day I drop dead, and as long as that happens I'm not bothered about how, or in what circumstances, I am removed from this fair earth.

I'm in two minds about going out tonight as is always the case on a Wednesday. One thing's for sure - at least I'll see Christine because I know for a fact that when she says she isn't going out she always does. It's heartbreaking to see her crawling around Gary.

A morbid occasion we are having today, but it's just the way I feel.

-==-

20091115

Monday September 30, 1974

Marita rings for a chat at 6.30. She needs cheering up. Evidently, MM goes to Sheffield tomorrow___________. Poor soul. ____________.She also informed me that Denny is down in the dumps, and is going out for her lunches with a regular escort. Nothing much else occurred in the conversation and it ended after about half an hour.

See TV all evening and nothing except the election is on. Michael Foot and William Whitelaw pulling each other to pieces, &c. However, Mr Whitelaw is a good chap, and I prefer him to Mr Heath, who is far too high minded to appreciate the problems facing Britain at the moment. Politics get me down, but Sir Alec Douglas-Home made a good point at the weekend when he said that politics may be dirty business, but the only alternative is dictatorship. It's a damn shame that poor Sir Alec didn't have longer at Number 10. I'm sure he was a better leader than Ted (Heath). But he got what all leaders get when they fail to win an election. Ted himself will receive a sharp kick in the pants if he fails to succeed on October 10. No doubt Mr & Mrs Whitelaw are planning to move into the Downing Street residence in later years.

See a good film called 'Otley' on BBC2. It's hilarious, dealing with spies, &c. Also see 'Emmerdale Farm' before coming to bed at 11.45.

Ugh, Mrs Ford, the wife of the US president, had one of her breasts removed in hospital at the weekend. The president probably won't stand for election in 1976 because of his wife's health. I expect it's cancer or something.

-==--

Saturday May 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Poor Diana Dors has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. Aged 52, she has suffered from cancer. We laz...