Bad cancer days

James Cameron.  He's got a lot to answer for!   3 years.   Lots of MASSIVE blue people who go "ummm!" a lot when they're in a group.  Someone who looks a bit like Philip Schofield, with a 3 way parting in his head.   A forest that lights up at night.   (actually, that was pretty cool and i thought, very useful for reading in your tent!)   The tough nut 'ray ban aviator' sporting pilot gal - with a heart.   The gigantic suits of robot powered man amour that anyone can mooch about the Forrest in.   The guy from 'my name is earl' which, incidently, i think is one of america's finest TV shows, telling larry, "love this putter larry... i love this putter."   The seemingly non plussed earth people who i noted all seemed to be from one certain dominant area of the globe, (?) tearing up someone else's planet er, just like it was somebody else's country.   'Oooh, get down off that political fence, Christopher!'  The classic misfit hero in all sorts of misfit situations. The lab guys hate him. The big blue ones hate him. The big boss who loves his new putter hates him too! What a tosser!  Mind you, he likes golf and that's for tossers!   Even philip schofield hates him at the end!   Sigourny Weaver REALLY hates him... A lot!   But then she likes him... Yeah!

Then there's the crap, prdictable lines like, "hey take it easy, hot rod!" to the misfit in the wheel chair!   Whilst he's ordering troops to shoot up a rather large tree where blue people live, 'pip' Scohfield says, "thats one big tree... ok bring it down" patting his faithful pilot on the shoulder.   Later on he's whizzing round his flight deck, nonchalantly pressing the odd button, waggling a knob hither and thither and giving the most random but blatantly obvious orders like; "blow up all the stuff we talked about before".   "Look, there's tons of blue people over there, shoot them, that's an order!"   There was, "Keep flying"   We had, "let's kick some blue butt" the classic american 'go go go go go' and then the less military standard ones like,   "Excuse me but could you stay seated?"   "Button your flies!"   "ohi, no kissing in the pool!"   "You boy, where are your plimsoles?"   "stop running in that corridor!"    "Corporal, 100 lines... 'I must always be a chauvinist solider who says corny phrases that hick townies will just lap up!'   Or the classic..."Excuse me sir... Chicken or fish?"

All this, whilst wielding an olive green mug of coffee in his left hand!   Worst of all, he then blows up the goodies base and comes out with the line... "great job today... Let's boogie!"   Uuugh!   Saving the best till last... At the pep talk just before the final 'highland fling' (I've been to bonny scotland y'know! Oh yes!) in the big finale battle between the greens; sporting their futuristic weaponry and the blues; on their... Er... Flying 'godzuki birds' and armed with school sports day javelins... Schofield announces to his whole amassed hoard, "ok everyone... Listen... Liiiiiiiiisten to me, children.   Stop talking at the back! Right... Blow everything up, good luck... (wait for it...) he actually says... "Oh, and I would like to be at home in time for dinner!"   Holy smoke! What? Yer mum wants you in before it gets dark?!? You're not allowed out after the "(s)tree(t)" lights come on!?! Ha! (see what I did there?)

One film, full to the brim with corny, very 2 dimensional, half witted, oh so obvious, cheap one liners and cliched catchphrases.

Uuugh... 3 hours... I hated it!

Still... It could've been worse.   It could've been littered with adverts... Oh yeah.   It was shown on Channel 4, weren't it?... It was!   In excess of 3 hours 30 minutes then.   

Still could've been worse... Could've been squabbling with the mrs all morning and not have the energy to shower untill waaay into the afternoon... Oh yeah... I was... 

Still, could you imagine if i were to completiy chuck my toys out of the pram and then be too ill to scream and storm out of the house... Oh yeah... I was!

It could've got even worse.   Could you imagine if the russian had got so fed up with me (and rightly so) that she'd rather not talk to me and decide that better than sitting in silence, put on the hard disc recorder and play back a nigh on four hour epic with big blue people in it... Oh yeah... She did!   

As soon as she highlighted Avatar on our Playlist and hit 'Ok,' my heart sank to unrecoverable depths!   (did you like my film review by the way? Safe to say I won't  be watching that film a second time... EVER.co.uk)

It's not all beer an skittles, this 'being off work for way over a year' thing.   What I've got at the mo does have its drags, let me tell you. There are some very low days indeed.   The russian and i call them bad cancer days.   Watching the most over hyped, predictable, flat film that I've seen for many a moon, sat for the best part of 4 hours next to someone you love dearly but right now just want to hurt a little bit, on a very grey Easter Saturday with slightly salty pits and knowing you're too Ill to storm out of the room let alone the house was one of them!

Baaaahh!!! 

Still... Could be worse...............? 

Hello friends, family, dearly loved ones... (that's all of you!) and distant associates... (just incase there's a knob head or two reading!)

How are we all?

Well well well... Here we are then.   Back from "shotlandia" a long time ago. (well remembered from the last blog, if you did!)

The last installment was very exciting for me and I really relished writing the opening passage about being on the train.   We really got a holiday feeling and both really enjoyed being up there in one of the most beautiful, idyllic, varied, engaging and spectacular areas of our country... Aberdeenshire. 

The mistletoe treatment I recived actually combined with the closest thing the Russian and I have had to a holiday for a very, very long time and was all together enthralling, relaxing and most of all recharging.

The treatment went realy well and was so, so much easier on me than the conventional methods and chemicals.   Rest easy friends, I'm not now a carrot crunching, pork fighting, oil tanker invading, spiritualist, doctor despising, self help idealist.   Oh no.   Well, sort of...   A little bit.   There's great bits to be drawn from both conventional and the alternative camps and we learnt that on our trip.

I'm so sorry that it's been such along time in updating everyone.    It's been a bit of a crazy situation here.   Good days. bad days, miserable days and strangely the odd almost great day here and there, more recently, believe it or not. 

It all started the weekend we got back from 'Шотландия'  Or as we all know it... Come on everybody, all together now... "SHOTLANDIA"

Towards the end of my stay I was getting funny visual sensations in my peripherals.   As time went on I decided that it was best to consult with my, er, consultant.   Sadly the day we were going to see him the vision distortions were getting worse and I fell quite heavily reaching for the bed post knob whilst trying to steady myself.   Because of the effect in my head the bed knob was some way to the right of where it appeared to me and my hand completely missed it and I went down in instalments, crashing to the bedroom floor.

Needless to say, the cancer in my head was growing again and was putting pressure on me brain.   Thus proving the existence of one (HA! mr swan in geography!   Why a PE teacher who could tear a rugby ball in 2 was allowed to teach us anything else that didn't involve organised fighting/bumming/egg chasing is beyond me!)

So new chemo and steroids required then... (read the old blog about steroids, last year if you haven't already! Woohwiee here we go again!)

It's very upsetting to be back on chemo after such a long time of recovery.   I know I was told things were bad again back in feb, hence the trip up north.   It's very sad to know that I'm back to not understanding my body and being very unpredictable about plans and seeing any of you guys.

The worst was to come.   After being released from hospital there were times I couldn't even muster the coordination to walk or climb stairs.   Help was required on a permanent basis either from the russian or my mum and dad.  There was one Sunday in particular when I was on a visit that had to be cut short due to a sudden outbreak of nausea.   I was taken home in the the car but when getting from the motor to the house I needed to be literally carried in by my super mum!   Both my legs just gave out and I lost the power and coordination to walk at all and with both arms around her shoulders i very nearly dragged my poor mother her over in the drive.   

Every week I got a bit better but to be that reliant really took some getting used to.   Eating, drinking, fetching the smallest things.   Impossible.  I really had to be waited on hand and foot.   Sounds great?   No way!   Having to wait in your bed in hospital at  3 am for a nurse to take you to the loo.   Having the sides clicked up on your bed so you wouldn't fall out of it.   Worst of all, taking 16 minutes to write "I love you twi, no, tow, no twe, ah! twk. Twl. Aww come on "l luv u 2" to the Russian in a simple text of an evening.   I h8 txt speak! Lol!  Aaah! 

It's hard.   You make a plan and then boof... It's out the window!   I know any of you lot understand but it's still upsetting for me.   Especially now I've lost my independence.   Completely!   That's why we're having more bad cancer days that usual.   I can never be on my own, even when you want to be and sometimes feel crap.   The worst part is never knowing where and when you'll be bad.   Puking on someone's carpet... Sorry sam and maz... Throwing up over the washing up in the sink... Again... Sam... Maz... I'm sorry about that... Or peeing in the garden over the lavender and tomatoes... 

Well that episode had nothing to do with chemo, that was because we were stargazing through a telescope and I didn't want to go in, pee and have to wait 20 mins for my eyes to readjust to the outside again.   With the garden's owner telling me, "yeah sure, go for it anywhere... NOT THERE THAT'S THE LAVENDER... NOT THERE EITHER THAT'S THE TOMATOES!!!"   Uh,! Next time, sam... Just say no... And maz... IM SORRY AGAIN!  

So unpredictability is back in my life...

Since then, I've been admitted to hospital twice.  Once for the giddiness and vision and once for a virus that both the Russian and I picked up.   High temp, aching joints and nausea.    Pleasant.    She was so bad she didn't have the energy to drive to hospital and see me!   Poor krorova!   (Russian for cow... Honest!)

So.   Ups and downs... What are you gonna do, eh?   

Roll with the punches I say.   So we have.   I'm now taking twice weekly mistletoe injections and Dr Geider in Scotland... or as we know it in Moscow... 'Шотландия'... He has managed to get me up to twice weekly 20ml size injections.   What do you reckon, Pamela?  Eh?   That's after having 160ml infusions as well!   Woo hoo!   

Sorry everyone, just some mistletoe chat between us mistletoe guys!   Oh you know what we're like... We're crazy, we are!!!   Ha ha!   Right Pam?   Can I call you Pam?   No?   Ok.

So... Er,

Things have been tough, unpredictable and at times... If Easter Saturday was anything to go by, massively infuriating!   Its tough for me and my unit.  Ma... Pa... The ruski!

Today for example.   I was flying high, feeling good.   Really good.   When you know you are up you have to be ready for a crashing blow from the hospital.   It can happen anytime and it's very easy to let your confidence build at home.   Its also nigh on impossible to detect where the next curve ball is coming from.   Now I know that the hospital is there to fix me, not to crush me.   The people in it are amazing.   Some really are beyond amazing and the level of care is fantastic.   Knowing the old Kent road as well as we now do is a giant bore.   The smell of floor detergent pisses me off and seeing people passed out or head in hands or simply struggling to get out of the lift can be quite upsetting.    

The hospital can throw you a curved ball from time to time.   I arrived home today, for example, sporting a natty pair of green hospital troos, my jeans full of piss, after having to poo in front of my friend and nurse, Ferdie, who is as camp as a row of pink tents... More energetic than the Duracell bunny... Funnier than Eddie izzard on helium...and when it comes to anaphylacdic reactions to treatments is as on it as a fighter pilot and sharp as a tak when your skin starts to itch all over, your tongue and airways are starting to swell and suddenly realising that i was sat only 2 foot away from a heart attack adrenaline stab injection!   Quite a day.  Hmmm... Quite a curve on THAT ball!

The story goes thus.   In for regular blood test.   Go home.   Told to come back for platelets.   Fair enough.   Get back.   Get a pool of platelets on the go really quickly, great.   Plus they only take half an hour to be administered.   Dad turns up with a sandwich and after first half a tuna mayo sandie my tongue starts growing, my whole body from head to groin starts itching like red ants are everywhere and my throat is going weird.  

Funny story this... 

So I call a nurse back and she realises I'm having an anaphylacdic shock to the platelets, something I've had given many times before.   Holy moly.   Things are kicking off so the nurse injects an antihistamine called piriton and some more, wait for it, steroids!   I know, having had piriton IV before, that it makes you drowsy and stoned like.   Don't ask me how I know... Er, I have friends in the music biz, your honor!

So now I'm in pain cos I've scoffed a tuna sandwich too fast, my tongue feels like I've been eating stinging nettles, my wholes body feels like I've got crabs and ferdie is sticking oxygen pipes up my bugle to help me breathe.   Then I get an instant hit from the piriton and wooo, whoa... The we go... Zzz uh? What? "ow, Ferdie, my chest hurts, I think I've got indigestion from my sandwich.   Can I have some pink stuff, gaviscon or whatever it is?"

He just looks at me... "ok maybe"

"it really hurts.   Can I have it now?"

"yeah in a minute.   I have to wait here with you now."

"uuuh? Ok."

So its the old wait here line, eh?  Not adding just incase I have to stab you in the heart with adrenaline then!   Well... Whether it was indigestion or my pipes tightening up or indeed a heart attack, my cause wasn't helped by the fact i was sweating like Rooney in a maths test and saying just how much my chest was hurting!   

So the wee and jeans bit.   Well more comic farce than medical drama.   Read on at your peril or simply skip to the line of + signs.   Now.   One thing about being in hospital I've learnt is that once the curtain is drawn around them, a private chat with a doctor, or a personal procedure with a nurse is just that... Private.   No no and thrice no!   It is simply shared around the ward.

It's so easy to determine whats wrong with your fellow bay bedders.   All you have to do is wait for their doctor to come round, draw the curtain and talk about poo, bums, 'how's your lump behaving?' and the best one... 'I just need to stick a finger in your bum... Oh no reason!' all at doctor volume.

So imagine sweating perfusley, holding your chest and spinning out on the good stuff trying to tell the now chatting nurse and doctor you need to poo.   All of a sudden.   Right now.   Er.  

"Guys.    (whisper)   "I need to, er, poo?   Now."

"ah, can you wait  (loud doctor voice, 6 other people in the ward) Your blood pressure drops after you poo so we would ask you to wait."

"ok" I whisper.

So they bring a commode, just in case and tell me to hold on if poss....   No.... Not poss.   Not poss at all.

So, waiving my towel and signalling at my four wheeled friend I make a move and drop the jeans!   Young pretty doctor legs it, dad and nurse help me up and guide me to mobile throne to make a call.

Don't worry I won't go into detail but mid way through I could hear the drrr drrr drrr of pee hitting bowl.   Fine.   Boy I was relaxing now.   I was still a bit stoned from the piratin but calming down and coming round.   Only to look down and see the commode bowl not fitted properly and the drrr drrr drrr of pee filling up the back left pocket of my jeans!!!! Socks and shoes took a hit too!   In not such a behind the curtain whisper, infact in more of a completely forgetting where you are, boom, I noted to my father...

"dad, DAD... I'm pi??ing into my bloody jeans!!!   Look at it, all over the back of my shoes!!!    Aww no!"

Not that you really needed to guess what was going on back there after the doctors told me to stave off a poo at 120 decibels and then later on your treated to that unmistakeable sound drrr drrr drrr of urine hitting surfaces that it shouldn't be.   It makes you lean your head back, close your eyes and your shoulders drop as you realise that's gonna take some clearing up!    Drunkards, parents and parents of drunkards know the feeling!   If it's happening to you, you sometimes just stop and enjoy the moment.  All that's happening now is that the puddle's getting bigger and you are SO far past the point of no return!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Like I say guys, roll with the punches...   Just rolling with the punches.

It's easy to say now, lying on my sofa.   Fed, watered, recouped and showered.   I've even got my dressing gown on.   As cosy as can be.   I can laugh about these things and I think you have to.   It'll be about 50 years time when I'll be doing it for real.   Relying on son or daughter to get me to bed or take my pants off.   Maybe my beautiful russian wife too.   Certainly not my beautiful, young Russian fiancée and nor should it be my parents for the second time around!   Not fair in the slightest!   

It's an unnatural cycle to see the young one in the treatment chair on the day ward.   You see a few.   It's never right.   They are the ones my heart breaks over the most.   Also the people around the chair.   The fiancé and the parents.   Sisters and brothers.   Friends and family.

Still, I find that the classic joke about the philipino for thank you has 'em rolling in the aisles, ill tell thee!   The real word is salamat but I say... I say... Get this... I always say... Salami...?    Instead...  Eh eh?   Come on.   What d'you reckon... It's a classic.   Used it today, went down a treat!   Even the cake was in tiers... Eh?   Eh?   Salami...   They did laugh, some of the other patients. It could've been the salami gag or the fact that the "DAD DAD IM PISSING INTO MY JEANS!" bloke was walking out of the ward in green Barts hospital trousers and slightly moist trainers!   

"love this putter, Larry... I love this putter!"

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