Chemo Mark 2 started today. My breast cancer twinnie calls this Plan B. It’s been a very long day and I spent almost 9 hours in the Big White Chair being walloped by the three new drugs plus humongous bags of fluids plus the usual anti-emetics. Entertainment was provided in the form of a steady stream of visitors post lunch and a deluge of emails, Facebook messages and other virtual shows of support. Now I am pooped. Done in. Whacked. Exhausted. Crevee (why is it sometimes that the word in another language is the most appropriate?). None of this is relevant if Plan B comes good. Frankly you could hack my arms off with a blunt knife in return for a guarantee of success. But there are no guarantees. Medicine – in which we place so much faith – is shockingly uncertain in this particular area. So instead I need to rely on prayers, good wishes and hopes. Fingers crossed….