I remember Susan/Steven/Seething Wells when the NME was compulsory weekly reading for me. Had lost track of him, but the articles linked to above brought back familiar memories of his writing style.
"The doctor and his assistant are nervous--really nervous.
"Growths consistent with cancer," I'm told.
How do I feel?
We've just bought a house, signed the contract. X-rays reveal massive amounts of fluid around my lungs caused by dripping cancerous lymph nodes, probably. Cue ER and the drugged-up draining. Then a surgeon and half a dozen baby surgeons prod me and ask me questions, and we get a date for the surgeon to slash my neck open and take out a lymph node.
We're let out of our contract by the couple selling the house--the first of many acts of utterly unselfish kindness I will experience, all of which stun and amaze me. (We really are an okay species.)"
