My mother is far from well. The pain in her lower belly is always with her, but it has been a bit less intense the last few days. From eight painkiller pills a day at the peak, which was four or five days ago, now she is down to three or four pills. I hope we will have the diagnosis this Wednesday, when we are going to a colon specialist. It has taken an enormous effort the last two weeks to get to see the fellow, although we will be paying for it. Even private medical care is pretty inaccessible in Britain. Still, under the auspices of the National Health Service we would have to wait for several months, which is why a host of people are diagnosed too late to do anything about their conditions. Anyhow, it is now quite clear that something is seriously wrong with my mother. We have changed her diet pretty radically, but the pain is always there. I now cook for her most of the time and I make sure that she eats regularly. She occasionally complains about the rigors of my regime, but she dutifully goes through her meals. Nonetheless, in the last couple of weeks she has lost six kilograms. The loss is not visible yet, but six kilos is a bit too much for comfort—one tenth of her normal weight.