It's been quite a week. A strange week. And when I say strange, I mean an emotional, shocking week in some respects.
At the beginning of the week I heard from my friend Shannon. She has a benign brain tumour, but her latest MRI scan shows that it has grown again and is now perilously close to a major vein. Her neurologist says he and his colleagues cannot operate. It is too dangerous. Next stop for her is a date with a radiation oncologist, if that's an option.
On Monday I stayed behind after work to interview a man and as he talked, tears began to run down his face. He asked me to forgive him for being too emotional. There was nothing to forgive, he was recounting one of the most pivotal parts of his life, and besides, tears were trickling down my face too by now.
On Tuesday, I went to another interview in a large Leicestershire village, with a lovely older couple who have been married sixty six years. I knew they had quite a story to tell, but I could never have guessed just how surreal their story was.
Doctors often say that when they see a patient, they talk about a certain ailment, sometimes it's a trivial one, sometimes it needs treatment. But many times, it's just as the patient is leaving the room. that they will turn and say while I'm here doctor, I must just tell you about another pain, ache or problem. They then come back and sit down, and the doctor realises this is a major problem or fear that the patient has.
There's a similar moment when I'm interviewing someone, just as we finish talking, when I switch off my digital recorder, and put my notebook away. As I put them in my bag, whilst hunting for my car keys, something tells me there's something more. That's what happened on Tuesday....I found out right at the end I was talking to a man who had been one of Hitler's bodyguards, but he didn't think that was relevant.
When I say it was a jaw dropping moment, I almost lost the power of speech. I can't tell you much more now, because those interviews won't be broadcast until 7th May, but I can tell you they've given me lot to think about.
I was going to end this blog with something nice that happened this morning. Something which put a smile on my face. But I can't do that. As I've been writing this, I've had a phone call from one of my sons who is desperately worried about one of his closest friends. This gorgeous boy who's stayed with us so many times and who has the loveliest smile and nature, is in Nepal. A couple of days ago, he was starting an expedition, a trek, an adventure. Since the earthquake, there's been no contact since. I 'm hoping with all my heart everything is fine and dandy, he's well and it's just that he can't access the internet or phone.
This news has just knocked me for six. It has been quite a week.
At the beginning of the week I heard from my friend Shannon. She has a benign brain tumour, but her latest MRI scan shows that it has grown again and is now perilously close to a major vein. Her neurologist says he and his colleagues cannot operate. It is too dangerous. Next stop for her is a date with a radiation oncologist, if that's an option.
On Monday I stayed behind after work to interview a man and as he talked, tears began to run down his face. He asked me to forgive him for being too emotional. There was nothing to forgive, he was recounting one of the most pivotal parts of his life, and besides, tears were trickling down my face too by now.
On Tuesday, I went to another interview in a large Leicestershire village, with a lovely older couple who have been married sixty six years. I knew they had quite a story to tell, but I could never have guessed just how surreal their story was.
Doctors often say that when they see a patient, they talk about a certain ailment, sometimes it's a trivial one, sometimes it needs treatment. But many times, it's just as the patient is leaving the room. that they will turn and say while I'm here doctor, I must just tell you about another pain, ache or problem. They then come back and sit down, and the doctor realises this is a major problem or fear that the patient has.
There's a similar moment when I'm interviewing someone, just as we finish talking, when I switch off my digital recorder, and put my notebook away. As I put them in my bag, whilst hunting for my car keys, something tells me there's something more. That's what happened on Tuesday....I found out right at the end I was talking to a man who had been one of Hitler's bodyguards, but he didn't think that was relevant.
When I say it was a jaw dropping moment, I almost lost the power of speech. I can't tell you much more now, because those interviews won't be broadcast until 7th May, but I can tell you they've given me lot to think about.
I was going to end this blog with something nice that happened this morning. Something which put a smile on my face. But I can't do that. As I've been writing this, I've had a phone call from one of my sons who is desperately worried about one of his closest friends. This gorgeous boy who's stayed with us so many times and who has the loveliest smile and nature, is in Nepal. A couple of days ago, he was starting an expedition, a trek, an adventure. Since the earthquake, there's been no contact since. I 'm hoping with all my heart everything is fine and dandy, he's well and it's just that he can't access the internet or phone.
This news has just knocked me for six. It has been quite a week.

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