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Yesterday was busy with hospital appointments, chief among them being seeing my oncologist and a radiotherapist to talk about the next phase of treatment.

Part of my treatment will be to take Tamoxifen for five years.  In this day and age where we have the 'right to know' the poor man had to tell me every possible known side effect and what the risk was.  A couple of times he said 'vanishingly small' - which kind of made me smile as medical 'vanishing smallness' is bigger than nuclear industry 'vanishing smallness'.  On the basis that the risks he was alluding to were less than the risk of being run over by a passing motorist, I wasn't troubled; at the same time I was glad I have an above average knowledge of common risks to help me make sense of what I was being told.

Then off to meet the radiotherapist, who it transpires lives near Hunterston and knows lots of people who work there (on balance of probability she will know someone I've met at some point).  She was suitably amused - and I think pleased - to have a patient who understood and was interested in the radiotherapy.  The doses involved are very large, but sophisticated equipment means they are also very targeted.  I had to smile when she was explaining why you can't use some skin products because they contain metals and we simultaneously said 'scatter' as the effect on the radiation.

So, two good consultations that were helpful and informative as well as tapping into parts of my life experience.  As I say all too often, nothing is wasted.  I don't think my past experiences were somehow preparing the way for this, rather I think that these are the things I notice and connect with because of my past experience.  Let's face it, had I not told the radiotherapist  about my past she probably wouldn't have talked in semi-technical language.  And if my oncologist knew I was a former risk assessor he'd probably be terrified to quote any figures!!

Today I had two hospital appointments at two different hospitals, making three appointments at three hospitals since they let me out last week.

What really strikes me is the excellence of the multi-disicplinary, multi-site working that is involved here.  A surgical-oncologist, a clinical-oncologist and an onco-plastic surgeon at three different hospitals, each of whom clearly has respect for the others and is committed to playing their part in an holistic approach to the treatment of their patients.  Add to that a collection of specialist nurses, and a radiotherapist who I met today, and you begin to see what a good multi-disciplinary team looks like.

I enjoy the different personalities of these professionals, and at a professional level am struck by their superb pastoral skills; I feel safe with each of these people as individuals and collectively as a team.

It is way too easy to criticise the NHS but based on my experiences thus far, there is no better experience of health care that money could buy.

I do know that not everyone is in the same league as my medical team, and I have seen a few jobsworths and people in the wrong jobs along the way, but this is, surely, a model of excellence which I hope is able to be sustained for a very long time to come.

Before I went into the forest I was warned that the food would be dreadful (here).  It seems only fair to report that, with one exception, the warning was largely unfounded - although maybe to my virtually salt-free, sugar-free palate things are acceptable that others might not enjoy.

When I ordered my porrige sans salt, sans sugar and sans milk I got some strange looks.  Moslty it came flooded with milk but it tasted fine.

The daily offerings of soup were excellent - tomato and basil, carrot and corriander, mushroom, Scotch broth... all 'home made' and very tasty.

I mostly opted for the veggie choice after a singularly foul shepherd's pie but also had some very acceptable fish and a decent chicken pie.  They even served some very acceptable rice pudding and a rhubarb crumble though otherwise the desserts were largely restricted to jelly or ice cream.

As a result most of my emergency supplies came home with me, to be topped up with further biscuits and chocolates from visitors.  No danger of going hungry!

It is suitably surreal that the food served in a Glasgow hospital was made in Wales and transported hundreds of miles to be heated up.  However, the hot food was always piping hot and the cold food properly cold.  I have a suspicion that being a fake veggie much of the time meant I got a better deal than had I opted for some of the meat dishes... the shepherd's pie tasted as if it was made with liver!

When we were children - I suspect I was around 6 or 7 at the time - my Dad encouraged all of us to learn to pick things up with our toes and even tried to get us to learn to write holding a pencil between our toes.  Whilst I never mastered the latter, I became pretty adept at using my feet to pick things up.  At the moment this 'circus skill' is proving very useful as bending down is not really a good idea.

I am also glad of my 'super strong' (or whatever the Wii called them) leg muscles which mean I can kneel and push myself up without using my arms and the strong abs gained by the endless 'crunches' I did in my youth.  In just over a week I can return to using my right arm more normally but for now I make a pretty good three-limbed human!

Amazing how the design/evolution of the human body allows for so much adaptability in times of need.

Btw, you will be relieved to know this is typed with my fingers not my toes - that would mean even more typos than usual!!