It’s late evening and Lizzie and I are walking down the hill with Cedric.
Cedric is always slightly spooked on evening-time walks. He sniffs everything around him way less on these excursions… and trots ahead purposefully, keen to return to our bright kitchen as quickly as possible.
‘I’ve been doing some research,’ Lizzie says, as we walk past the village church and graveyard.
‘I think now’s a good time to do research, while I’m feeling quite strong. Rather than waiting… in case, you know, I have a recurrence again.’
‘And you’re not feeling up to it.’ I nod. It makes sense.
Lizzie goes on to explain she’s been investigating ‘THC’.
‘It’s a bit like CBD, the cannabis oil stuff you can get in Holland and Barrett,’ she says.
‘I think I’ve heard of it,’ I reply. ‘That’s the one where all the fun stuff has been taken out?’
Lizzie nods. ‘Well, in THC, all the fun stuff has been left in. All the psychoactive stuff, which makes you high.’
According to Lizzie, many cancer-sufferers who’ve reached the end of the road – and have run out of options – use THC.
‘To make themselves feel better, ’cause they’re high?’ I ask.
‘No, to help reduce their tumours,’ says Lizzie. ‘A lot of people say it works.’
‘Is it legal?’
‘No.’
‘So…. the people who use it have to find a local dealer?’
‘I guess so,’ says Lizzie.
We continue walking in silence for the next ten minutes or so. Maybe the well of conversation, on the subject of cancer, is beginning to run dry. I guess there’s only so much you can say about anything. Even if one of you has been suffering from a life-threatening illness.
‘How’s your journal going?’ Lizzie suddenly asks, as we walk back up the hill.
‘Good,’ I say. ‘In fact, I’ve nearly finished the main bit of it. And then I can read it, feel embarrassed, and stick it in a drawer.’
‘Maybe someone will want to publish it,’ Lizzie says.
‘Hmmm,’ I shrug. ‘You should read it too, to check you’re comfortable with it all, before I let anyone else have a look.’
Lizzie doesn’t say anything. Instead, she farts loudly.
‘After all,’ I smirk in the dark, ‘you might be embarrassed about all the times I mention your post-chemo farting.’
Lizzie farts again, even more loudly.
‘What farting?’ she says.
P. D. Clifton 
Leave a comment