African or Indian?

It's been a quiet week, but not a lazy one as we approach the date for my wife's operation.

Monday she had what is called a Sentinel Node Biopsy - essentially, they inject a radioactive isotope into her, followed later by a blue dye to identify which lymph nodes are closest to the breast she will have an operation on. These are then removed and taken analysis to confirm that the cancer hasn't turned nasty and started to spread. It's a relatively new technique, as in the past they'd have simply harvested the lymph nodes at the time of the mastectomy.

So, when we see the doctor on Wednesday, we'll find out if the elephant in the room is an African bull or an Indian calf. If it's the Indian, we have a tough few weeks ahead but we can get through it. If it's the African - well, a few words may appear here that I will regret but need to say.

If you follow my meaning.

Which you probably don't.

As a result, Doreen has been resting all week while her mum and dad and I (but mainly them for the latter part of the week) get my younger son off to school. The one saving grace has been the absence of Alastair, my oldest lad, who has been on a school trip to Paris for the week. The fun part of that was when they set off on Tuesday - early.

Very early - 5.15 in the morning, which meant a 4 AM start so that he had everything he needed with him. Having visited Montmatre, Sacre Couer and the Eiffel Tower, as well as (most importantly in his view) Disneyland Paris, he gets back tonight at about 11 - which may mean 10, but most likely means midnight. Given I will be spending the weekend shifting furniture and stripping wallpaper, I fully expect to be one of the walking dead come Sunday.

And so the day draws closer.