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OCTOBER
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OCTOBER Friday 1 Miracle of miracles! I was finally discharged yesterday and I'm sitting waiting for take-off on a Virgin jumbo via Newark to NY. The ups and downs of these weeks have left me with enough sight to get by, though it is a little like a continual twilight. HB is carrying an enormous bag of drugs to keep me dripped; God alone knows what anyone opening the bag would think. I'm quite merry today as I'm finally off the Foscarnet and already feel a little better for that. The drug robs Peter to pay Paul and wreaks havoc across the system. The doctors at Mary's and Bart's seem very happy, the eyes no longer hurt and I can read three lines down an eyechart - before the surgery I couldn't discern the letters at all. Losing your sight cuts you off - a sort of sensory deprivation. I fell into a sort of silence. All through, HB was marvellous. Heidi taught him how to inject me with GCSF (granulocyte colony stimulating factor). Each injection costs £180 and is minute. The cost of some of the drugs is almost prohibitive. Thank God I'm not in the States as the care at Bart's is state-ofthe -art. It is not possible to think of more being done to help, the nursing staff are fun, the ward hums to Jenny's polisher as she shines the floors Jenny is a great cheerer-up when she arrives in the morning. Good news and a great surprise -1won the Fassbinder prize, a great deal of money: £13,000.1nearly fell out of bed when I was given the cheque. It's truly put paid to financial problems. I spent £500 buying tickets to Carousel for the nursing staff, but that will be my only extravagance. I want to buy HB a dishwasher but he won't let me, says he wants to remain independent. We are still waiting for take-off, here we go. I love this moment in planes: as they roll down the runway it seems impossible they will ever take off and then a miracle - you are in the air and the houses and streets become smaller and smaller. I think because of the uncertainty of the illness travelling has become a great luxury, the idea of going abroad seems sometimes remote. I never thought I would see NY again, surely the most remarkable city, and we are staying in the Chelsea. 376 OCTOBER Blue has been a great success; some of the reviews have been a bit over the edge for such a modestly conceived film; of course I'm thrilled. It's on today's front page of the New York Times Review. Everyone happy, not least a young man who told me it had stopped him committing suicide at a moment of great depression, something that had happened since he was the victim of a hit-and-run driver. We are up in the sky now, high above the truly dreadful weather in London. In seven hours we'll see the Empire State and all the other beautiful NY buildings with their stunning lobbies sparkling with glass and marble. It was such a luxury slipping into my own bed last night. I slept like a log and wonderful HB curled up looking very smashing. He spent the afternoon in a face pack like a mud man of Papua New Guinea. We do have a lot of fun. I just downed a sizzlinglypeppery tomato juice. I often wonder as I write this diary whether I should put down 'deep' insights, but perhaps the surface is more interesting and alive like the skin and really those other revelations are better left in the past as teenage memories. The usual aeroplane films that you have never heard of are to be shown, usually something with Walter Matthau. I think I'll carry on writing the diary. The plane is absolutely full and HB has to sit in the smoking section because James didn't pre-book seats. Saturday 2 New York food is overproduced, observed HB, your pudding comes with your main course: venison in cherries, veal in apricots. Lunch today was inedible and the food at the festival reception poisoned me so I had a night of sickness and vomited all over freshly washed HB, who sighed, then laughed and ran himself another bath. We retired to the diner where the food...