writer's moll

It would have been Rob's birthday today and I was feeling fine - a few reflections on how such a sunny natured little boy, who would enter into the spirit of the game so wholeheartedly when I coaxed him into doing something through his teddy bear that I sometimes used to wonder who was kidding who, managed to turn into such a stresshead, but nice thoughts, when wham, I got a text from his father reminding me that last year Rob spent his birthday at the Royal Marsden hospital in London. Oh yeah, the prognosis from his local hospital was hopeless so we asked for a second opinion and the appointment was for the 10th May. We had a marvellous reception from smiley doctors, who talked about the wonderful possibilities - radioactive wires in his neck, operations and the like and did lots of tests. Rob came out on such a high, talking about a cure and the following week we got the results - the tumours were embedded in the voicebox and blood vessels - yeah, thanks for the reminder - pass the bottle someone.