The writer reflects on a trip to Addenbrooke’sMy maple tree has shed the last of its fiery leaves. This is now the actual winter,not a rehearsal. In compensation, my friend Ann Baer has sent me an autumn maple leaf in its full crimson glory. I maintain propped it up in the bookcase near where I write. Ann Baer is 101 years old and I am hoping to catch some of her secret.
I could exercise more time, and but it will need luck. My main drug might stave off the leukemia indefinitely,but indefinitely could mean until tomorrow. Meanwhile, my morning antibiotics pick’n’mix must deal with winter’s threat to my tattered lungs, or a few days ago the threat was multiplied by the sudden failure of the heating system in my house.
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Source: theguardian.com