A mixed day. As I said just now as Rose came in, “I’m getting used to not getting used to anything.”

Some thoughts starting to emerge fleetingly. Hard to shepherd them into any rational system that leads anywhere. I realise how much I adore Mo, and even though I’m self-centered I find there really is a human-being under this skin.

Waiting in the corridor for the PET scan this evening with my mask on, sweating, I had my delusions of grandeur that I’m sure other cancer victims have had; of writing the great disease travelogue best seller, with enough humor and wisdom that it would sell a million copies. But I’m sure this is a worked-over genre. There has to be a better angle than a collection of anecdotes.

I find it interesting about the characters in the hospital. Most of the porters are Haitian and could not afford the insurance I have.