I phone the chemo unit about my terrible cough and receive the worst possible news. I have to go to A and E. I’m optimistic that I might be fast-tracked. Fourteen hours later I’m admitted to an assessment ward. Two days later, I’m still here waiting for tests.

The funny thing is, part of me is happy to be here. I don’t have to do any housework. I am officially allowed to rest. People bring me food. I have a lovely afternoon with my brother doing the crossword and eating chocolate. This makes me realise a few home truths.

Maybe I’m not depressed. Maybe I’m just knackered. Recently, the housework has made me dread getting out of bed. A busy weekend of socialising was inevitably going to lead to an infection. Something needs to change.

Life with a chronic illness means I constantly say, ‘But at least I don’t have to work….my girls are so easy….I need a purpose…..’ Whereas, in fact, just getting through the day with a smile is enough of a job.

But also. There is joy everywhere. The people playing clapping games with my girls while we wait. The lady who buys me chocolate when I’m crying. The oncology trump card. The camaraderie between patients. The tireless staff. The friends and family who send love, gifts, food, childcare. The husband who is my rock throughout.

Maybe this infection isn’t so bad after all!