Doctor, doctor, send in the bees.

         There has been a delay in my posting as we stayed in a flat in the city where I have my treatment last week. My laptop seemed to dislike the WiFi.
          Doctor patient relations seemed to reach a low ebb ten days ago when she offered me a prescription which I turned down. The mistake was one I had made before. When a Spaniard asks how you are, do not say 'Regular' which despite translating as the same word in English prompts noticeable concern. Better to say, as I did this week, 'Bien, mas o menos' (Fine , more or less). Then I ended up with a prescription I did want.
         Another change for the better is a positive visualisation. Radioactivity has a bit of a bad press, not helped by the warning signs all round where radiotherapy suite. So it is easy to feel pretty damaged by the treatment, especially as the side effects increase. In order to counter this a little I have laid on the treatment trolley and as the machine started to hum, I have imagined tiny cancer cell eating bees zooming into my prostate and feasting, then emerging replete to flutter off.