Waiting on the doctor to come out. He has specified "lunchtime" as his e.t.a. I insist on the urgency of the case but he won't be harried. He says he will come as a matter of urgency and that Kelly will be prioritised but his tone is understated, his manner infuriatingly calm. I suspect it is a device used to defuse situations - doctors are in part, or at least should be, emotional bomb experts. But it doesn't work on me. I want him sliding down a fireman's pole and making all haste in an ambulance. Contrarily I also want to kill him and his soft purring voice: I don't have a blanket over my knee and nor am I owner/operator of a bath-chair so don't talk to me as if I've been a bad boy and won't finish my Horlicks.

The hospital ring. They tell me that if the GP becomes confused he can ring Dr Cochrane at the hospital. Dr Cochrane is the palliative doctor but not Kelly's usual doctor, the oncologist Dr. Hurwicz. The GP is a Dr Coughlan, not Kelly's usual Dr, Dr Miller. I have no one to ring if I become confused. Luckily it's not a confusing issue - I'm going to stand over them and make them sort out what's wrong with her. This is all happening too quickly, it's too symptomatic for it to be the end.

I phone Kate, who has stayed over-night at North road, to let her know the situation but she is too worried to hear what I'm saying and talks over me, imagining a conversation that we're having rather than the one we are having. Although with only two of us in the conversation who is to say we aren't having her conversation rather than mine. Eventually we meet at a mutual point and agree that she should come over at 12.30. This is the start of lunch-time according to Dr. Coulter.

Kelly is still in bed. Her stomach looks more swollen than ever and she has been subject to violent coughing fits for the best part of the morning. Periodically I go into see her, to find out if there is anything she wants or needs (she hasn't had her pills yet either). She wakes up/ stops coughing for long enough to tell me to go away.