Friday: I start the day with a blood test. Miss 10 asks if she can accompany me, and as I tell her “hell no” she reminds me that she’s struggling with my illness and the counsellor has suggested quality time together to help her. I rue the day I let that quack into our lives, but I say “sure”. She makes us eight minutes late to my timed test, complains about my taste in music, and helpfully tells the pathology collector, “My mum’s got cancer, but that’s not why her hair looks so terrible, that’s just what she looks like in the morning.”

After dropping her at school I meet my aunt for a quick coffee and spend 25