Monday 28 November 2011

There's Great News... Good News... And Bad news...

Hello good citizens of blog city…    Captain red pants here to save the day…   flying capeless around the good city of blog, in my bright red pants and blue ‘swimming pool attendant’ flip flops…   ridding the city of any wrong doings, such as, running, pushing, shouting, peeing in the pool and above all…   the worst crime there is… heavy petting!!!   (I refer you to my skinny picture of me in my last entry)

So…   who wants to hear my news…?   Ah?   And in what order do you want it…?   Eh?   Some folk want the bad straight off the bat… “give it to me now!”…    others prefer the softer touch, with a nice cushion of good to soften the bad.   Now this, not being an interactive service sadly… I don’t have any expensive 0907 numbers for you to dial to vote in an order of news…   this isn’t the ‘X tractor’…   you will just have to face the news as its given…   so…   we start with the great news first…

Last Monday I was told by one of the doctors the amazing news… dahn dahn daaah… I HAVE NEUTROPHILS… YEEEESSSS!!!   IVE GROWN SOME…   IVE GOT SOME… ALL 0.2 OF THEM… WOO HOO!!!   Well… if I played my cards right, I could be out of here in the next few days… maybe Friday (25th)…   remember, the magic number we are looking for is 0.5 for release… (a normal level in a well person is around 5, by the way)   So… that’s exciting… woo hoo!!!   Great news!!!

Then a few hours later came the good news…   Around 3pm I was seen by Dr S, my consultant, on his usual Monday afternoon ward round.   I was with my folks in the day room, writing the last blog, actually, when one of the docs said ‘HE’ was waiting in my room to see me.   So the Russian and I made our way back to side room 10 to see the main man, the big wedge of stilton, le grand fromage…   I was so happy about the neutrophils news that I was thinking of how to joke about it and generally pratt about with him in celebration of the fact that if the levels climb as they should I could be out and home by the end of the week!!!   Yessss…   So, I walked into my room and warmly greeted all the people that were there waiting for me.   Dr S struck up,   “well, I’m sure your more than aware of the neutrophil levels being at 0.2…?   we’re very happy with that… so…  I think we can send you home…TODAY!!!!”

“WHAT???”

I was stood up at the end of my bed… and with this news duly dropped onto me I found myself sitting down suddenly in sheer disbelief…   all gags, gaffs and smart arsed remarks deserted my thoughts… which were now preoccupied with things like… “but im only at 0.2… how are we going to get all my stuff home tonight?   Mum and dad ain’t got their car today… surely it cant all fit into the Russians ‘T34’ tank (its actually a smart car but generally built the same and just rides just as hard!)… what about food… we’ve got 2 cats, shall I stay away… shall I stay in one more night just to make sure the counts are on the up?... what? If? Who? How? When?...

I sat there, looking up at the doc in disbelief and watching his mouth opening and closing as he talked about… er… stuff I suppose… I couldn’t hear anything except someone telling me I was going home… TODAY… this afternoon… over and over again, in a very familiar voice… my own… in my head…

“…and lastly, of course, you will have to wait for all your home meds to be bought up from pharmacy too.   Ok Chris?”

“Uuugh..?   I’m sorry Dr Shamash… er, could you repeat ALL of that, for me please?”

So by 7:30 pm I had been given all my drugs and was walking out of side room 10!

Home!!!

Now for the bad news…

One of the things Dr S had said to me whilst I was being deafened by my own thoughts was that because I was still at risk from infection I needed to come back to the hospital every single day for blood tests to keep a very close eye on me.   We were cool with that… in fact I was more than cool with it.   Why?   One of the worst things about being home after hospital is the irresistible desire to get back in touch with normality.    One of the most frustrating things is being bored in your own home because there is nothing that you can do.   Its right there under your nose…   everything you own and collected in your life is waiting for you to use or play with.   At level best all I’m fit for at this stage is watching films and TV but really I want to cook and work in the garden and (believe it or not) help around the house… simply empty the bin or unload the dishwasher…  but no!    My best efforts ‘gang aft agley!’ to quote the poet, Robbie Burns… ‘go wrong often.’   A simple task like standing, well there’s a challenge for a start and stairs… bloody hell… don’t talk to me about stairs… let me tell you, coming down is a lot worse than going up.   From the few marathon runners that I’ve spoken to in the past, it’s the going down stairs that’s the killer on your lower thighs.   It’s currently the same with me, having not used stairs for five weeks!!!

So… here we are, 13 hours after leaving it, my pop’s and I are back at the hospital.   bright and breezy.   Its now around 11am and we’re sat in the St Bart’s cafĂ© having a nice cuppa and a reasonably warm cooked breakfast.   (nowhere near as epic as the one I blogged about back in Febuary but not bad for one of those ‘all day’ breakfast’s that really has been there… ALL DAY!)

The phone rings.   It’s the day ward calling to tell me the results of today’s blood test… this should be good.   Gary on the ward who was let out the Saturday before me had something like a day at 0.1 the next at 0.3 and the next was 0.7 when they let him home.   What was mine gonnna be…?   Well, I’m already starting at 0.2 so lets assume its jumped a minimum of 0.2 again so I’m gonna plump for at least 0.4 or even the magic 0.5 number…

“hello, yes hi… yes white cells 0.3, same as yesterday, ok, haemoglobin 12, not too bad, platelets 14, good… and the neutrophils…?”   “ZERO POINT ZERO…”   “you’re quite sure of that,  0.0?!? … yes… ok… I don’t need any transfusions of any kind today so I can go home…thank you.”

Can I really go home?    I’m back to square bloody one here… 0.0, how can that be?   I’d better leave a message with Dr S to see if I need to come and stay in the hospital over night… SOME MORE!!! UUUGH, NOOOO!!!!

I left a message with Katherine the support nurse thinking we’ll go home now and if they call us back I can bring a small overnight bag back with me.   Then, not far from home about 50 minutes later, the call comes in…

“Hi Chris, its Katherine from St Bartholomew’s…”     I sort of held my breath and closed my eyes some what, expecting the worst.   I thought I was heading back in for sure after only one night and one day of freedom but she told me I was ok to stay at home but don’t see anyone, don’t go anywhere and do nothing.   She added, Stick to the current diet of cooked food only, nothing fresh that might infect me.   I was to closely monitor my temperature and if there was the slightest hint of rise or being unwell, to get back to the hospital asap!   I was allowed to stay out because I was coming in every day and it had been shown that my body was capable of producing these darn illusive neutrophils.  It shouldn’t be too long before they return.

So that’s good… that’s not bad news, really.   Except for one thing… I’m writing this on Monday the 28th and all week, every day I’ve been back and forth to that blasted place and still no sign of a single neutrophil! Bugger!   Spending between 2 and 6 hours mostly waiting for platelets, to be seen, for blood results and on one occasion, pharmacy… the greatest drag of them all!   The real worry is that it’s been a whole week and still not a sausage!   That’s the bad news…

I’ve been hoping that my levels would rise as expected and that I could announce to the world that I’m home and can get about soon and start to try to socialise once again.   But no… that’s why I’ve been keeping the fact that I’m home on the hush hush for a time.   I wanted to get used to being at home, enjoy it, get my strength and immune system back and then get amongst it!   The “dolls house” syndrome of coming home to a seemingly smaller house and familiarising myself with everything only lasted a day, this time.   The daily commute to the hospital has pre occupied me somewhat which is good and I’ve had some lovey cosy TV dinners in with the Russian most evenings on our comfy sofa’s with the heating on under a blanket and our cats mooching about the place.   It’s been very nice, very nice indeed.  

I have loved being at home but with zero neutrophils I was constantly worried about being called in to the ‘big house’ once again.   So far so good… just need to keep the neutrophil rain dance going for the foreseeable future…  come on all… join in if you know the words… “UMM DUMM NEUTROPHIL COME… UMM DUMM NEUTROPHIL COME… UMM DUMM NEUTROPHIL COME… UMM DUMM NEUTROPHIL COME… UMM DUMM NEUTROPHIL COME… UMM DUMM NEUTROPHIL COME…”

Right, I’m off to wash my bright red pants… I think someone needs me at the local baths… there’s a kid in trouble in the shallow end struggling to do widths with a floating swimming aid!  I must dash…

X

Wednesday 23 November 2011

My Life In Pictures.

Hello, again, my friends.   Today’s little bloggy woggy is just a little collection of pictures to illustrate some of the things I have been going through this last year.   Have no fear nor dread… there’ll be a narrative to accompany each picture to make your viewing more pleasurable.    I must warn you now some of the pictures towards the end are of a more shocking or unpleasant nature.   I’ve ordered them in such a way that they get progressively worse but never fear I will warn you when the going starts to get a little more rough.    Obviously, its up to you to venture as far into this passage as much as you wish.    I explained to my support team that I wanted to put these pictures up for memery’s sake.    

Just one or two shout outs this time, kids…

To my fellow cud lover ‘the flan’…   here are my answers…
No 1,    not exactly D.L.E.R.C.
No 2,    I have no idea, I can’t even think of a Charlatans song right now
No 3,    Fools Gold!

Thanks for the text pub quiz to keep me entertained for a wee while.   I promise my answers are genuine and have NOT been google’d.   Plus those mega warm socks you gave me, flan, do exactly what they say on the tin, I’ll tell yer!!!   Mmmh lovely!!

To the family of Framptons.    Thank you guys for all the messages, financial support and gifts…   it all means so much, thank you thank you thank you!

And that’s about it, really.   So, dear reader… let us cease with all this dilly dally and get straight on in there…



Now… we start with our old friend the R2D2 wanna be… er… Malcom!?!    If you have a keen eye and a reasonable memory you would know from my last blog entry that my stem cells were wheeled into the room as I was freaking out in this little ‘star wars’ super star.   Picture, if you will, him sitting in the corner of my room with his hat offset at a jaunty angle with tons of dry ice, white smoke, pouring over the top and sliding down and across the floor.   It was just another new, alien object introduced into my life, just at a time when it was all really coming on top!!!   We saw him ‘chilling’ (ah! ‘scuse the pun!) at the nurses station, so I managed to get a snap shot of the little blighter for you.

As they should say to every act on the X Factor… “NEXT!”….


Ahh… my semi successful attempt to photo stitch a fish eye shot of my private room from the perspective of my bed.   Excuse the massive distortion at the top of the picture (that air con vent is straight!) but all in all a successful capture of the inside of my room.   Nice and modern, innit?    Our bedroom tv, (I know… a tv in our bedroom, terrible!) PS3 and digital radio (thank you E & Lu) are way over in the distance, opposite.   The private toilet/shower room is there on the right.   Also on the right, hanging up, is a unit of blood, mid transfusion.   On the left hand side is the windows you can normally view Smithfield market and the BT tower and Centre point.    In the far distance just off to the right is my exercise bike just in front of the window where I can see where my mum and dad and the Russian park their cars.   Its where, at the end of the day, I wave like an idiot and sit in the window until the car disappears around the corner like a 1 yr old puppy!!!


What have we here…. ?  Why its the inscrutable Dr Shamash and just some of the 12 disciples that follow him around noting everything he says.   I wanted to give some perspective to the coliseum type surround you get when, sometimes a mini bus of quacks arrives outside your room and its contents pile out and surround your bed.   There are actually more people in the room, round to the left but as I announced I wanted a photo of the team the crowd parted like the red sea, not wanting any part of it (revealing my mum, stood by the bike) Falling short of all standing there, poking me with biro’s they all listen to the guvnor talk about you whilst scribing into thick file folders.   They do address you from time to time and do take a genuine interest in your personal wellbeing… having just discussed your actual health amongst themselves back in the mini bus, parked in the hall!   ;-)


Ah, now… This is to do with the undisclosed side effects of cancer treatments.   We all know the classics… hair loss, chronic weight loss and sickness ect ect….    Nobody told me about the sheer volume of earwax build up that has started to plague me!!!   Here is a piccie of the Russian utilising the very bright lamp on her padded laptop tray to get to the heart of the candle wax factory that seems to have set up residence inside my noggin!   Don’t fear, reader, the next shot isn’t a close up of the ear bud covered in dark brown gunk!   Although I was tempted!






Here I am at Wembley, many months ago weighing in at a fighting weight of 105kg’s … as my consultant DR Shamash said to me… “you must’ve been a bit of a chubber!!!   HEY, THANKS!!! So, here I am… FAT!


And here I am only a few days ago after a year’s ‘chemo diet’ and down to my new record low of 75Kg’s!!!   I’m currently back up to about 78Kg’s with my appetite back and still on the build up, Hi Kal shake drinks.   In the pic, I’m in my room just about to pass through the door, behind, into the shower.   Ladies note the lunch box!!! It looks massive!!   All perspective, really…  it always looked so small when I ever looked down when I was healthy/chubby!!!   Note, the pictures are slightly stepping up in shock factor… you can clearly see the full extent of my Hickman line that is used to administer blood/platelets/drugs and also withdraw bloods.   (said in an electronic voice)  “I AM A ROBOT… NER NER NERRRR!”   So here I am in current form…. THIN!





FAT!!!


FAT!!!


THIN!!!


FAT!!!


THIN!!!.......   well….. you get the idea with that!


Here is a misty bad photo of the monster of a machine that extracts your stem cells from your body and saves them for after HDC, high dose chemo.    As its not all that clear to see, it’s a brute of a machine that wizzes, bongs and actually whirr’s like that weird cleaning robot out of the 1970’s hit tv show, rent-a-ghost!   It even has a cute binging bell that sometimes sounds from time to time.   The idea is that they hook you up via one arm, the machine draws blood for 4 hours and it simultaneously returns it, minus the stem cells, into your other arm.    I say it took 4 hours and normally once is enough.    You have to lie dead still, for the whole time, getting fed like an emperor (nice!) and being assisted to pee into a jug! (not so nice!)   Me being me, my blood was not fourth coming with the cells and so this meant I was required to go back on the machine to get more!   A grand total of 4 times at 4 hours a pop was what was needed… in one week, Monday to Thursday!!!   16 bleedin’ hours man!


This older picture is an example of the tricolour of bags of chemo that I was having at guys hospital’s day unit when I was undergoing my first bout of drugs!   I can’t remember exactly what was going in to me when I took this because I can’t remember the names of my “BEP” course but I’ll give it a go…   Bliomison, Ettoposide and Sisplatin, which actually contains platinum in it!   The one of the bags is covered with the red filter bag to knock out certain wavelengths of natural light that affects the gunk inside.   Note the big pump that drives it into your arm and the big Jim’ll fix it fully electric lazy boy chairs that us ‘lucky’ ol’ patients get.   This is all on the 10th floor of that really nasty looking concrete tower, next to the shard.   The views of London are great from there too.

This blog’s like going through someone’s holiday snaps… only its worse than boring!!!


So, we reach the point in this entry where the pictures take a slight turn for the worse.   So feel free to bail out at anytime.   So to kick us off gently, here is an arty black and white shot of both our cats, Seth and Junior, whom I miss terribly!   All together now… AHHH! (unless you hate cats and would rather an UUGGHHH!)


Here is a closer look at my Hickman Line that I had put in way back in june sometime.    It hurt like billy-o after the surgery but was totally worth it in the end.   This was my first ever time under the surgeons knife.  No nasty canular needles constantly sticking into your arm and a very easy way to get stuff in and out of me, when the friggin’ thing wasn’t all blocked up with bloody gunk!   The tube extends in for about another foot and down to a main vein behind my stomach.  The moment anyone puts a drug into one of the 2 tubes, you get the effect of any side affects, immediately.   So when they used to give me a certain pre medication that made me woosey, I would start feeling tired before the syringe had even finished plunging.    


This nasty little scene is one of my chest x rays.   I had this one done around the middle of the year.   If you can see them, the white dots all over are the cancer spread into my lungs.   Fortunately more recent pictures show far, far less dots, in fact the last one I looked at, on screen, I was hard pressed to see much at all.   But hey, I’m not a radiologist!   The first one I was shown way back in January looked like an abstract artist had been at play with a brush full of white paint!   It looked like said artist was flicking the brush at the picture.   Can you see in the right hand lung a white line going down from top left to bottom right?   That is my Hickman line inside my body coming in at the top of my chest and running down to that main vein I was talking about.   God only knows how, once inside, they connect it to anything!   I didn’t want to ask but I’m curious to know.


This is one where I’m pretty tied up.   I’m all hooked up for an ECG test.   Echo Cardioid err… Groovy test?   I’m not sure of the last word but I’m pretty sure the first 2 are correct.   It measures your heart and its timing by taking different tiny electrical pulses around certain parts of your body.   It checks your pulse synchronisation given off by all the different areas and the machine prints out a graph (you always need a graph in medicine!)  that looks a little like one of them earthquake read outs.   When you see the ECG machine printing it off you can see the various ink scribe arms inside, all twitching away, showing that a force 7.6 is going off!   Then the nurse tears it off, looks at it, looks at you and always says… “I cant read these, I’m of to give it to a doctor, won’t be a sec.”   Then you lie there, waiting for news of your fate for 20 minutes or so and the nurse returns saying, “yup, that’s all fine.”   They gave me an ECG when I freaked out and fainted when I was having my stem cells returned.


Uuugghh!   This is the entry site if my Hickman line when it leaks blood.   It’s a sign that my platelet level is low and I need a platelet transfusion.    Platelets are the things in your blood that help with clotting and when you are low you are at risk to serious bleeding.   One guy told me it took nurses 2 hours and a shed load of cotton wool to stem a nosebleed.   The guy said he ‘paped’ himself at the amount of blood that was issuing fourth out of his bugle!   Nasty, you have to keep an eye on these things.   I was stabbed by a doctor, who was drawing blood the other day (yeah, you Laura!) and I hadn’t kept enough pressure on the puncture site after the needle had been withdrawn.  I only noticed I needed help when the taped swab was now saturated and I was dripping blood off my arm onto my natty bed trousers!   Note the date written in the side of the dressing.   That was only 2 weeks ago when this happened.   They put the date of when the dressing is changed so they can see when it needs changing again.

Right, last 2 shots of this gory tale… and they ain’t that pleasant… you have been warned…


This is a shot of the aftermath of suction and swabbing required to keep my crumbling mouth from clagging up.   The horrible gunk on the side of the bowl is actually bits of my mouth that have been drawn out by salt water rinsing, having a nurse with a mini suction hose, medicated mouth wash and those pink swabs.   It is not very nice and very very sore.   The sort of pain you get when you keep biting your tongue in the same place or the side of your cheek, only sometimes the pain is constant and of such a magnitude (9.8 on the ECG scale) that for 6 days this last month I was on a 24hr syringe driver that slowly administered pain killer morphine.   I kept it in a bum bag (or as the Americans would call it, a fanny pack!   The Russian cracked up when I told her that!)    My parents being them and taking care of me in every way, supplied me said bum bag in which the battery operated syringe driver happily sat in “CCHHIING” away to itself every 20 minutes or so as it doled out another hit of relief.   The sensation in my mouth was such that it felt to my tongue that my teeth had all been removed and replaced by 32 razor blades.   I would have slashes and lacerations all across and down the side of my tongue.   When you looked inside there were big white blisters and the walls off my cheeks would have permanent impressions of my teeth in them.   Ugh, horrible!

So, as old Sir Tervor Mcdonald used to say… “And finally…”


A classy shot of me mid ‘GAMEC’ drug regime when my mouth issues were at their peak!    Constantly drooling blood and mouth lining into a cardboard bowl whilst stemming a nosebleed and thinking strong for everyone by showing the old thumbs up in a Millwall shirt!   That’s true British grit!    Lots of pain, lots of discomfort, lots of digging deep and getting through it…   These drooling sessions would go on for days at a time and sometimes keep me awake at night because I’d be half chocking on mouth fluid!   Nasty business.   The reason for all this mouth collapse is that chemo indiscriminately wipes out all rapid multiplying cells, such as cancer, hair cells and your stomach lining.   Unfortunately your “stomach lining” includes everything from your front lips to your ‘behind’ lips and everything in between.   So not only was there need for days on end of pain killers, there were sustained periods where I didn’t eat for days and was on constant fluid drips for nutrition.  

This is the end of my sorry tale of woe…   I hope my next blog entry is more exciting with better news!?!?!?  

X

Wednesday 16 November 2011

Hope and dispair...

October 25th 2011.   What where you doing on that day? I know  my mate DB would be the first kid with his hand shooting to the sky hissing “sir, sir, I know the answer, sir, please sir, me sir…”  He’d know what he was doing that day because it was his 31st birthday… and seeing as he currently works and dwells on a massive F**K OFF luxury yacht moored in Monte Carlo, I’m sure he’d remember that day well… unless of course he’d got shore leave.   So if he’d decided to hit the €8 lemonchello’s that the Russian and I enjoyed with him there, with him a year ago, then his memory might be a bit more wooly.  

Other kids in this classroom in my head, happily sat on the ‘groovy rug,’ enjoying their free daily pint of milk… (yes, this classroom metaphor/image has been created in my mind in the days before Maggie Thatcher decided all junior school kids could do without their free pint of daily milk!   Instead she spent  billions on saving 60 sheep botherers, in the Falkland Isles and blew the budget for kids milk!)   Sorry, I digress from my class room…

So… three other pupils that can immediately answer my question and have all got a limb thrust skywards are both my parents and of course…   The Russian.

This is my record of events on Tuesday the 25th of October…

“BONG BURRP DING!!! BONG BURRP DONG!!!” BLIIP BLUUP….BLIIP BLUUP”  

“What the EFF….. oh… oh….guys… I’m gonna faint… IM GOING TO FAINT…”   and I did!

There was my super team all lined up on one side of the bed… my mum stroking my head, as it was whipping from side to side…   “come on Chris, I told myself, keep your breathing regular… keep your cool, they’re just pumping your stem cells back into you… you’ll need these to quicken the recovery process… keep your cool, keep your cool, man….


“BONG BURRP DING!!! BONG BURRP DONG!!!” BLIIP BLUUP….BLIIP BLUUP”  

What the feck is that massive noise?    What kind of machine have they got me entwined with now…. Don’t look... don’t look… who am I kidding… I cant even see… my eyeballs are rattling so fast in their sockets the room is blurred…   why are there 2 nurses to do this ‘simple’ treatment if its so straight forward….  Keep your cool ivin, keep your cool…  uh uh uh…. Who am I kidding… I think I’ll stick to the fainting and try not… zzzzzzzzzzzz”


“BONG BURRP DING!!! BONG BURRP DONG!!!” BLIIP BLUUP….BLIIP BLUUP”  

“Chris…   Chris can you hear me?”   It was Laura, one of the SHO doctors who had her pretty face and sharp, blonde bob about 4 inches from mine… (I’m minus the sharp blonde bob!)  

“Ugh?  Who?   This aint my room…. You’re not my mum!!!”
nb… that line is for Charlie!

“what’s going on Laura, have we started the transfusion yet…?”

“No.”

“Aww, Bo??ocks!”

Now there was my super support team, 2 nurses and now about 3 different doctors surrounding my bed.    I looked in the far corner and there was this 3 foot sandy coloured bin on wheels, with a domed hat set off at a jaunty angle that was letting lots of ‘top of the pops’ dry ice pour out over the top and drift away into nothing.   It looked like the start of a cliff Richard concert.   I guessed my frozen stem cells were still in that old R2D2 wannabe…   if I wasn’t such a woss they’d be halfway in my body by now and I wouldn’t have 40 people around the bed trying to measure my sats, blood pressure and heart rate…


“BONG BURRP DING!!! BONG BURRP DONG!!!” BLIIP BLUUP….BLIIP BLUUP”  

yup that sodding thing’s still in the room.   I was  connected to this thing that bleats at such a volume every time my blood pressure changes or something…   the docs were worried because my pulse rate had plummeted to below 50 to about 42, when it was all coming on top in my mind and I decided it best to ‘wig out’ and faint!

So, October the 25th anytime around 2pm British summer time….   That’s where I was at… thrashing around in the bed, seeing my room crashing around like an earthquake was going off and then dipping in and out of consciousness.   

With some excellent teamwork from my dad and the Russian on the foot rubbing front to keep me in a state of semi comatose, the doctors dispersed and two of my favourite nurses, Arleen and Menchie managed to get on with returning the idiot cells back to the idiot, with minimal fuss.   Id got some music on the IPod to cut out the….


“BONG BURRP DING!!! BONG BURRP DONG!!!” BLIIP BLUUP….BLIIP BLUUP”  

and my super mum, stroking my baldie swede was enough to keep me calm. The stem cells were replaced without any of the nasty side effects that they are obliged to share with you, to really put the wind up your sails!   In fact the whole two bag dose was administered within an hour.   

Sadly for me I was due for 3 bags of stem cells the very next day!!!   But now I knew what to expect and with all my anti panic personnel standing by in their various positions and with my I pod set to play all… the second day went off without so much as a….


“BONG BURRP DING!!! BONG BURRP DONG!!!” BLIIP BLUUP….BLIIP BLUUP”  

... from that daft new machine.   So after 3 bags full of stem cells it was just a matter of sitting it out and waiting for all my blood levels, including the key neutrophils, to come up to the required levels for me to get sent home.   0.5 is the magic number for my neutrophils to reach so that I’m strong enough to fight infections and look after myself.    Sadly for me, as I write they are still a big fat ZERO!   I’m told that once there is a sign of them coming up they can replenish themselves very quickly.   A nice chap here called Gary, told me that when they came back for him they started after 10 days and he was sent home after 2 weeks.

So, that is the current situation.   Waiting around trying very hard not to get ill and infected… waiting for those magic little neutrophils to reappear.   Diet is the main problem, closely followed by epic boredom and a servere lack of concentraton.    But sadly there is still no sign of the blood levels rising and I’m starting my 5th week!!!

On a total other note… face guff… er, I mean facebook!   Whoa there, Lesley!   How many peep’s on there, strutting your stuff?!?!?!?   It is an absolute inspiration to see all the messages and big up’s to one’s self!   I know I’ve said it before but I really wish I could reply to one and all but my hands would fall off typing for ever!

I will mention four special things on there as a slight rule breaker to either pee you off if you didn’t make the ‘Tony Heart gallery’ of getting a mention or inspire you to get a 'big up' by, er, I dunno, filming yourself, naked, fire swallowing whilst riding a camel… or, hang about… something really crazy, like after riding all the way to London from Rotherham (all for charity, mate!)… then seeing how great the south is and going back to the north!!! Sean! ;-)

Nah… kidding mate….   Thank you so much.   (plus the south is full of wa…rs!   (true!   Try driving down here!)

So… my fab 4…

Looney… yeah yeah piss off about the Rolex, Omega’s are much better anyway…   and yeah £1,200 a night and we still had to boil our eggs in the kettle…   but I cant remember why we put gaffa tape on the windows of an apartment on the 28th floor that had more floor space that most 3 bed houses…   and it had 4 toilets including one for the maid…

Tory boy… thank you for the message of support from my old Swansea mukka, Johnny Hartson….  We’re Bessie mates now and I am an official celeb botherer!!!

To all those brave men and women of great Britain that have hit the ‘movember’ campaign trail with me in mind…   thank you ladies…   Mitch,   I think yours was the best, although the “dubious ‘tasche committee” might have something to say about that!   Laura, even if it was accidental…  remember some of the greatest discoveries by man were purely by accicident… as was the first ever free range, home grown “flavour savour” I’m sure!

Lastly and mostly….

Sweeney, I hope you've got your ears on, good buddy, when I shout out to...

Lee Lording…   MEETING MARK GARDENER!!!???!!!   WHERE???   WHEN???   HOW???   DID YOU ASK HIM IF HIS OLD BAND 'RIDE' ARE GETTING BACK TOGETHER ANY TIME SOON, LIKE THE STONE ROSES?   DOES HE STILL SEE ANDY BELL?   WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE YOUR BLOODY EYES SHUT IN PHOTO’S?   (LIKE THE ONE I TOOK OF YOU AND DAVE GROLL IN DUBLIN!)    AND FINALLY DID YOU TELL HIM ABOUT THE GREAT NIGHT WE HAD IN EAST LONDON WHERE HE DIDN’T SHOW FOR A GIG THAT WAS REALLY NON EXISTANT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!???!!!  

I still think about that night, it was an absolute classic!   Just the three of us out to stand at the bar and not witness any gig… great times.   So far in my life I’ve turned up for a gig that didn’t happen and a home Millwall match that was being played away!  Wuss up, cous!!!   ;-)

Hope and despair then…  

Hope… you’ve always got to have it with you at all times… 

Despair…  when you’re banged up in hospital whilst yer mates are out and about meeting your all time hero’s!!!  

I dunno…   cancer, eh?!?

Tuesday 11 October 2011

Hello again...


The climb up the stairs to the 3rd floor nearly wiped the floor with me but my doctors have told me exercise is good. Inside it was standing room only. Not bad for £25 to get in! Not that that mattered, sam, reggie's brother, had insisted he'd pay for my ticket anyway. Inside It was loud and very very hot. The first fight was already well into round 2. The floor to ceiling mirrors that adorned the Walls were filling up with sweaty condensation nicely. Ah! I found a box at the back of the gym to rest my old pile of bones on! I was knackered! I'd already walked from my gaff all the way down the hill to the station AND all the way from Shoreditch high Steet tube to the gym!

Ding ding! The two fighters returned to their corners to confess to their trainers about just how scared they really were... Or at least that's what i'd be doing if I was in that ring with loads of sweaty skin heads shouting at me! And another one trying to clump me!!! (actually in my current folical state I fitted right on in there!)

The ring girl clambered her way through the middle and top ropes with all the runway attitude she could muster... She must've been wearing underwater mascara or whatever, what with the levels of moisture and testosterone in the air... God knows how she didn't look like Alice cooper at this point. We all had a good wolf whistle and checked out her knockers for a bit (which included you, Helen, I saw you staring!) and then the poor cow bundled herself back through the ropes!

Round 3. Boof bosh bish... Ding ding ding... It was all over and so the MC announced... "ladies and gentlemen lets hear it for mmmh mmh mmmh whooo mmmmh and all the way from new York... wooh mmmh mmh woo mmmhhh!"

God only knows! Shouting only makes it worse when you've got a seventeen year old, knackered microphone in your hand!

So... The stage was set for the second bout on tonights London vs new York fight night card; "stars and swipes"... See what they did there? Well… The announcer strikes up again... "wooh mmmh hhmm huurr... From new york... 'Sweet' robbie dyson!!!”   Out stepped my friend Reggie... (his nickname at work... Mine's Milton by the way!)  to the clash song "the guns of Brixton" (where he dwells) and sporting the biggest tattoo emblazing the words "south London" on his right shoulder. Which is a bit confusing to anyone expecting a native new yorker to step out of a yellow cab.   instead we got, "all the way from barnes, which is a very posh bit of south west London, its reggie... Fighting for the yanks!!!"


What?!? What the hell is going on!?!   Reggie… you’re on the wrong team!   He’s about as American as Television (we brits invented that!) or the muppet show!!! (again… if you do some research the original show was turned down by  the US tv networks and picked up by the limies!!!

Nah! He wasn’t picked by mistake. Rob, to use his proper name, had been over to dear old NYC to represent the US gym fitsroy lodge in a fight and now he had been asked to do it again on this side of the old pond.    Rob, a regular camera dude on the old sky footie, was now all set in the ring.   There was a lull and so at the top of my voice I shouted, “yoo hoo, reggie!” and waved as stupidly as poss! He gave me a smile and a knowing nod and casually went back to his pre bout meditation, pacing about and the silent passing of wind… no doubt!

Then out came the brit to face the er, brit and the first round got cracking…. “COME ON ROB/REGGIE” Helen, (Reggie’s Missus) and I shouted in unison… most probably confusing the hell out of everyone around us.  Sam started slapping his paper in his hands causing a right old din and everyone else… the skin heads, the chavs, the hoxton square trendy kids, one or two city boys in their wide awake suits… “yah, yah, ive got 10k on the yank!”… all started cheering the boys on.

Round 1… Good stuff… just a bit of kissing and cuddling to start… rob with the longer reach was stepping off the other geezer and measuring him up and weighing him out… clump, bump, nothing too sinister but boy was it exciting watching someone you know in the ring bobing and weaving and what could only be described as running away backwards! (ONLY JOKING, ROB!)  

Round 2… a little more edgy and faster paced… I was up on my toes bobing and weaving about like I knew the caper and all the moves…. Just to put the wind up all those nutters around me and let them know that I was bald cos I’m well hard, not because I’m as weak as a kitten and quite ill!   “GO ON REGGIE… CLUMP THE GEZZER!!!  HIT HIM!!! BISH BASH BOSH!!!! (to quote my dad!)   my god this was BRILLIANT and the fight was so well balanced it was anyones!
     
DING DING DING!

‘Alice Cooper’ got up for the last time and shoved herself back into the ring… and held aloft the card indicating It was the final round…. Rob had 3 minutes to get the win!   I, at this point did something that ive been doing for years.   Making a statement in my head thus… “if reggie wins this fight, I’ll win mine!”     there you are you city bankers… puts your £10k down the shitter don’t it!?!    I have been doing this mini self bet thing for years..   if I can do x, y, z  I’ll win this match or get that train set for Christmas or this flat will be mine or I’ll one day own that car….   Things like if I can get through that closing door in front of me, indianna jones style, without touching it or if i can wash my hands with just the hot water quick enough before I get scalded… ect ect,  only this time ive been doing it with the big C!

So… no pressure, then reggie…. Lets teach these English softies a thing or two and get me back to good health!   DO IT FOR ME AND THE WHOLE OF AMERICA, REGGIE!!!!

ROUND 3…….  No sooner had the bell finished its second chime, reg was up out of his corner on the far side and moving round to our left across the centre of the ring.   The other dude was matching his move with his back to us and soft footing it to our right, on the turn.   A couple of little exploratory fists were thrown about the place causing the ‘lovers’ to turn more in the same direction so now reg had his back to us as we were looking over his right shoulder at this guy’s squished up mush in his snug fitting head guard.   This gave us the perfect view for what followed… “SMACK!”… KNOCK DOWN!!!   I cant be certain because it happened in a nano second, whether rob had used his left to distract the guy then POW! Jabbed him square into his ‘boat race’ and sent the guy down onto his back!   Yesss!!!   Brilliant!!!  WOO HOO we’re in the clear… two points for a knock down sam was telling me… so all he had to do was stay away from any big punches and the round was his!!!   

The guy got up and was counted to about 8.   Then sent back into the fray by the ref.   I think this action of being put on his arse rather angered the poor chap and so went at rob like an enraged bulldog with its owner towel flicking his nuts!!!   “Stay out of it reggie… get out of there… move move”… were the uneducated cries from my gob!   The name of the game is control.   Keeping your mind calm and trying to pick a winning blow or series of moves that will get you the victory.    Reg had the reach and the coolness to box but this guy was irate to say the least!   Swinging and throwing everything he’d got!   My god this was exciting… rob was taking all the punches the guy could muster but he was scoring and Reggie needed to get back at him… which saw the last minute of the round with these two toe to toe exchanging fairly substantial blows in a blur of arms and gloves. both looking like the round would be theirs, if anything the other dude had landed a couple more critical blows but reggie had that knock down, come on reg, one more magic “BOOF” and it’ll be all settled….  Push rob push… come on please… forget what I was thinking before about staying away from him and his hits… just step into him and attack… yes… yes… no.. no… ooof…ow… yes.. come on… “DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!”

In one second the pair went from close quarter battle into the classic clumsy bear hug and then touch of gloves and nod of well done… but who was victorious???

“MMMH MMMMH MMMMMH UUUUHH UUHH MMMUUHH HHHUUMMM MMMUUHH”… bloody hell, the mc was really shouting now and everyone was on their feet (cos there were no chairs!) going nuts!!!   Easily the fight of the night!   What a great fight; it was so exciting!!! But who’s was it?

The ref grabbed the boys, by their gloves and led them to the middle of the ring… “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… MMMMHHGG HUMMM UUMMHH GGGUUHH HHHHMMMM  MMMHHH………. It didn’t matter what was being said all we had to see was who’s glove was going up above his head…  then the ref flexed his ample belly and low and behold…   up went BOTH RED AND BLUE GLOVES….  DRAW!!!!  

The result just goes to show… the uncertainty of my fight goes on… but I WILL win!!!


Hello everyone… how’s tricks,

I know it’s been a while, to say the least for which I apologize profusely.   I am in a good phase of my 3rd phase of my big fight.    Sadly for me the second lot of chemo I was on, GAMEC, didn’t work out for me.   That one I described as the mega core regime, with all the hard side effects and long periods of hospitalization. 

I was released from st barts on the 7th of july, weaker and more reliant on my family than almost ever before, if you count the nappy wearing years of my life.    Since then we’ve had a massive home improvement project taking place, which at times, come as a great distraction in my life.   For the early part I was back and forth to hospital for regular blood tests to make sure the crap was on its way out of my body… but only into few weeks of my early remission I got ‘that call.’   I can tell when it’s the Doctors calling… my phone shows ‘blocked’ on the screen and if you’re not expecting a scan or clinic appointment you can be sure its new news.

So… things were back on the turn for the worse and a new tack was required.  

We saw the creative Dr Shamash, my consultant and all things large cheese wise, when it comes to cancer fighting!   (even going so far as creating the afore mentioned GAMEC course, himself.)   during the clinic, which was a great time of despair, the (very) good doctor calmed my nerves and partially allayed my fears with a very seemingly positive attitude, ‘well that didn’t work so now we push on and try the next thing’…..   he cooled me down to the extent that I even had the temerity to apologise for spoiling his GAMEC study.

So what is the next thing for little old me?   Its High Dose Chemotherapy… HDC…   as hard as it sounds apparently.   It’ll require at least another 3 weeks in the big house as they administer and then monitor me as I fall to pieces again!   Not looking forward to that at all!    But as I cant wait to get started so I can get it finished there is the small matter of the pre chemo, chemo that I’ve been started on.   Its called IPO.   Its is given in 3 week doses every Tuesday.   Starting on the first Tuesday with about 6 hours and then two Tuesdays of an hour bag of crap! Then the following Tuesday the cycle starts again with the long 3 bag 6 hour jobbie.   I am now on the 3rd cycle of a potential 4.    It will all come down to a ct scan and tumour markers results for the doc to admit me and get me started on the hdc.    I have also had my stem cells harvested and frozen because hdc will wash them away and I’ll have them re introduced after I recover.   

So my life has been as normal as it has been since april after I left Guys hospital and tried returning to a few days work.   Right now Im at home for the rest of the week except for scans and blood tests, which don’t normally take too long.  

So ive been at home and apart from the odd bad day of illness or weakness I have been able to mildly potter around the gaff or have the strength to get out and about shopping or visiting.    I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to see as many of you as I want to… (which is really every single one of you reading this stuff) but it has been fantastic for me to get to see who I have been able to.  

Including a day at the test cricket… which turned out to be a £60 wash out!   But never mind; a good day anyway…  my mate, Brian’s 40th birthday party down in ‘crazy town’ sidcup… seeing all my great chums from my sidcup dwelling days was terrific and being well enough to stand in the kitchen (the hub of any good house party!) and chat to everyone was enjoyable.    In fact I had such a nice time (as did the Russian) I didn’t want to leave when I got tired,  so with the host’s permission I got cozy upstairs and had a 45 min nap at 11:30pm to recharge my legs.   It had got noticeably messier on my return with the Russian suitably fired up on cider leading the charge of the dance brigade with Noreen in the living room!

Other pleasantries included gutting out our loft and getting shot of junk at the battersea car boot sale the other Sunday.   We made £170 quid which we put towards an hours massage each!   Yeah!   With cash to spare for food that we’ve been buying in vast quantities from farms shops.   Going as healthy as possible has revolutionized our breakfast with the addition of a £30 juicer into the ivin/Russian family.

At this point I must explain where this change has come from.   Our friend Kate’s mother, Pamela, has recommended a specialist doctor up in sunny Aberdeen who… get this… treats people with mistletoe injection therapy.   Firstly I must massively thank Pamela for putting me in touch with doctor mistletoe, or santa claws as he’s more commonly known…. NAH… NOT REALLY… HE DOESNT EXSIST!    No, a very big thank you to her for that.   We have met Dr Stefan who, very kindly, in his spare time, briefly reviewed my case over a cup of coffee in Hammersmith on his weekend off and told us all about the mistletoe procedure and basic ideas of the technique.   In a nutshell it involves poisoning me with a series of injections to alert my immune system and make it aware it is under attack.   Which it hasn’t realized with the previous arrival of cancer.   So to awaken my systems up to the vile growths inside and attack them! 

Cancer… the under the radar disease.  

Dr Stefan told us many things we can do to help my situation, with some small changes, one of them being the juicer… of ‘chooser’ as he said in his soft German accent.   The Russian also read in the leaflet that in Germany many chemo treatments are administered along side with mistletoe treatments.   My consultant said he has heard many things about this but wants us to wait until after my HDC course before I go to Aberdeen for 2 weeks and get ‘spammed’ up with mistletoe.   My only fear, I asked, was will I have to kiss everyone I see when I get injected… especially in mid winter, no?    A slightly stern and perplexed look back from the doctor when I suggested that might be the main side effect…  ‘ah… zur crazy English humor, ja?’    No, that didn’t happen, I’m kidding…. AGAIN!

So ‘choosing,’  has become the new regime of our mornings… chopping peeling and then waking up the neighbours… BBRRRHHH… BBRRRHHH… BBRRRHHH….. and getting through about 12 kilo’s of carrots a week and a small apple orchard every month.   It is so delicious!   Carrot and apple… my fave!    Once a week we ride out in the ‘Russian mobile’ (a 1943 Russian army surplus ‘T34’ all terrain, field gun tank) and, pardon the pun, ‘shoot’ down to beautiful Kent and raid one or two farm shops for all their fruit, veg and sometimes as a treat, a home made, British farmed, PORK PIE!!!....mmmh hevean! OR A POUND OF SAUSAGES FROM HEAVEN… OR A SLICE OF GALA PIE…. A PORK PIE WITH AN EGG INSIDE IT… OR AMAZING CHICKEN THYS, THE CREAMIEST OF CREAMY BLUE CHEESE AND STILTON AND SLABS OF STEAK AND HOME MADE MARMALADES, LEMON CURDS AND MUSTARDS!!!!    Wow this stuff tastes good… and not any more in cost than the normal supermarket prices.   Beets, potatoes, punnets of raspberries, plums, a sack of onions for £1.50, a 12kilo sack of carrots for £6!     Um bongo… banjo… bingo!!! Job done!

Its not only food that’s changed… oxygenating my blood is very good for me too.   Back in June when I was banged up inside I was so incredibly inactive that I developed blood clots in my lungs and was subsequently sentenced to 3 months blood thinning injections that I have to self administer every evening.   Uuughh injecting myself like zammo out of grange hill!   Or Phil Mitchel out of the west indies… no… east enders!

To try to avoid this and being particularly at risk from having cancer in the first instnce, I have bought… a Davina Mcall endorsed exercise bike… with 8 level settings and a particularly lethargic on board computer to tell me time/speed/distance/inside leg measurement/pulse when it can be arsed to work!  

Apparently according to a snippet taken from ‘the week’ magazine (thanks mum!)   some mild exercise is very good for battling cancer and oxygenating my blood.   It also went on to say that given some of its positive returns that if it were a drug it would be hailed as the new wonder stuff!   So, whenever the call comes for me to go back inside, I will be asking for a volunteer from the audience to help my super support team to smuggle my bike into the hospital for me.   Because of the lack of impact that you otherwise might get from jogging or even walking, I can sit there for half an hour or more on a light setting, watching the telly, and keeping my body moving… the only problem with the exercise bike is… I feel as if Im not getting anywhere with it!   Ha Ha! (bom bom!... I’m here all week… try the steak! Goodnight… err taxi!)

So… bikes, juicers, boxing, new conservatoires, wet cricket test matches… what else has fed my imagination these past months…?

Ohh yeah… the resurrection of my model railway!!!!   Yes yes yes oh yes… having so much time at home has fed my imagination and so I came to the great conclusion that an 8 x 4 foot sheet of wood laid out on our dining table in our new conservatory would be fine!  Being as super cool as she is, the Russian complied with my unwieldy request and for a week at a time I am allowed to resurrect my base board, layout my track, sit in my pants with a drivers cap on every morning “choo choo”ing until my 11 year old heart’s content.   Thanks to the diy super powers that my father possesses, I now have the layout permanently tacked down to the board and a cunning system of storing it outside, along side the brand new house extension!   So not only has he massively helped me in my design and construction of my layout, he, more importantly gave me the space in which to play too.  

I must take a moment to say a massive thank you to my dad for his amazing efforts on the recent building project.   And I know I speak on behalf of the Russian too when I say he has done THE most amazing job giving us this extra room on the back of the house for us to dine in, sit in, and best of all play  trains in… WOOH-A-WOOH!!!’   Anyone who knows my old ‘pot an pan’ will know how great he is at turning his hand at most things, plumbing/electrical/mechanical/structural/arts and crafts ect ect.   He’s just one of those annoying people who can take one or two prolonged looks at something then work it out, take it apart, clean it up and fundamentally, always, make it work/look/feel better.   From making his own picture frames to fitting doors or windows, to tiling your kitchen or in this case, constructing heating and decorating a complete amazing extra room in our house.  He has not only the ability to vastly improve things but also utilize any of the vast array of tools within his possession.   Including the gigantic Boxford metal turning lathe in his shed to fashion a completely new or in some cases, invent a better tool for the job!   Now that is levels of manly-ness and diy ultra skills that I can merely aspire to, let alone achieve.  

Of course being 2 years off of his 70th birthday… sorry pa!... it wasn’t completely a solo effort and a massive thank you must be extended to dad’s very long term and fellow, friend and partner in wall crashing, garden digging, extension building and anything else you can think of… the one the only… Millwall’s very own… Geoff!   He helped my dad time and time again when it came to the de construction phase, the foundation prep and ultimate build of our new room.    Thank you so much, Geoff for your time andyou’re your hard work.   

There is a long list of super stars that were also involved in the bulkier parts of the project, especially on the foundation dig.   From neighbours to ex neighbours, college friends and local chums… to each and every one of you… thank you ever so much for your time and effort.    I must admit, the old saying of “I could watch someone work, all day!” rang very true for me because all I was reduced to was talking, pointing and every now and again promoted to ‘chi waller’ (tea boy!) throughout the build.   The phrase, “you’ve missed a bit” never issued from my lips… I promise!

There are many other people that I have to thank since I left this vast void in my bloggy woggy!    I’m sorry I let it get so big really but it has been so nice to be at home and, when possible, forget about hospitals, doctors and illness.   I generally tend to write this on my days in hospital anyway, which is why its taken me so long to finish it.

So other people I really need to mention and thank start with Sean.    One of the VT boys from the football who in just three days rode on his tredder from Rotherham, in the great north, to London, in the smelly south!   Inspired to get up and raise money for cancer research, for little old me and my stupid illness, he braved the conditions and southerners to complete the 3 day ride.    Thank you Sean, it means so much to me and my family that you would do something like that.   I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the finish to see you in and (if need be) administer any creams or talcum powders to red bits or sore tissues!   ( I woud y’know… I would really!)   thank you Sean.

I’m sorry I didn’t get to see the visions mob that were running in think strong Tee’s at Greenwich the other Sunday.   It was the perfect weather for it and I hope you all enjoyed your run.   To Matty and Fefen, two nutters wanting to put themselves through more excruciating pain for the cause on yet more marathon madness… one of them running off road!   You’re nuts! A big thanks to both of you to too!

And of course Reggie, the star of the opening piece.   He is fighting this Friday for mc millan foundation at York Hall in east London on Friday and being well enough I will be there to watch and cheer him on.   He has asked me to put a link at the bottom of the page if you want to sponsor him.   I’m sorry its so last minute, guys, I have been a bit crap, but its not all been plain sailing.
It was great to see reg.   A big hug and slap of five made me realize how much I’ve missed lots and lots of good mates at work, and family and friends that I haven’t seen for ages… way before my troubles started.


If I have forgotten to mention you for supporting and sacrificing your time on my behalf I’m terribly sorry.   The think strong group on face book has become a ‘read only’ site for me because It is just so overwhelming and amazing to witness all the messages and gestures of support for me.   I really want to reply and comment to each and every entry but it is sadly impossible for me to do so, especially given the way I type!



The link is there please take a look.   And tell your friends and family that this new blog is out.   I’m SO sorry that its been so long… it has been a very undulating period of my treatment and my life, to be honest.   The highs of being out of hospital, the lows of bad news, the joys of almost full independence and the agony of multiple trips to the hospital and the anxiety of more hell to come.   It looms over me like the school homework that hasn’t been done, or the weekly swimming lessons I used to dread in my early life or the feeling of a long bad, arduous experience that is about to wash over me…    I want to start it to get it done!   SJ-FJ… Start job, finish job! 

This last 3 month period of life has been as close to normal as I have been for a long time.   It has given me the taste of my old life again, on certain occasions… but get this next month of hospitalization out of the way and the rest of my life will be THE  most rewarding, exciting, loving, cherished and utilized time one will have ever have witnessed!   

I WILL RECOVER.    I WILL GET BETTER.     I MOST CERTAINLY WILL ENJOY A LONG HAPPY, HEALTHY LIFE!!!

Lance Armstrong wrote in his book that the big C is both the worst AND the best thing to happen to him.   I can see why… I have had a GREAT life up until now and it is my main inspiration for a full return to heath, happiness, strength and work.   Take it from me… when you’ve got your health and the love of the others around you… all that is bad can be changed, all that annoys can be ignored and most importantly of all… all that is good must be cherished.

I love you all and will get this year out of the way and return to the ecstasy that is my normal life.   I promise!   Xxx

www.justgiving.com/rob-dyton