Well, that depends on one’s physical and mental state.

My husband was moved to a telemetry room Friday afternoon because all his vitals are normal. While this is encouraging, it’s happened before and so I approach the news with wary optimism.

At this point in With Malice toward One, my female protagonist, Danny Ambrose, still has no idea her lover is ill. I can make no comparison with her.

Nor can I compare my husband with male protag Alec Johnston’s state. Alec is stoic and silent in his treatment. While my husband hasn’t even begun his chemo yet, he was really ill initially, and relied on me to be his advocate. He didn’t exactly relinquish his role in self-care, but he needed to rely heavily on me. Now that he’s on the mend from the serious infection whose complications nearly ended his life, he’s more attuned to his care, is asking questions, sometimes refusing procedures he thinks of as bill padding until their practicality is explained. I applaud that, and the fact that he involves me in the discussions.

Today,  he’ll have a pelvic CT scan to determine whether the bilial stent is well placed to do its job, as there is an entire network of various sized ducts branching through the liver. I’m hoping for a positive result. It will mean the end of the external drain and the beginning of allowing the bile and pancreatic enzymes to do their job in aiding digestion in the intestinal tract.

And now, off to the supermarket, bakery, and ices shop to fill his daily shopping list. Sunday’s day of rest? Hmm.