"All I need is the air that I breathe............."

(Oh how I wish again for a head of hair the like's of which Graham Nash is sporting, and I also prefer the Simply Red cover of this song, but it 'belongs' to the Hollies ~ so named after the one and only Buddy, and Christmas ~ and a memorable era for me)

After that I think the best way of bringing my blog up to date is by copying a message I sent today in reply to Crystal, fellow oesophageal cancer survivor and Internet friend from the MacMillan forum, who personally and untiringly shows compassion and concern for all of us who are lucky enough to have made her acquaintance. She is far too modest to accept such praise and anyway probably will not recognise this missive because the original of which, before being run through Bloggers spell checker, was so full of  typos ;o)  :

"Hello my dear friend Crystal

I have been so very busy not only enjoying my full and hectic lifestyle but also managing these various side effects. You note I don't mention 'Goliath' and for good reason too; he seems to have temporarily given up the fight and gone AWOL, sulking somewhere I know not where. That is to say the gullet has opened up to the extent that I am eating almost normally and with the dietary regime that I'm  following the pounds are piling on again (nearly back to 16st from 15 3 which was two down from the start) The paralysed vocal chord, said to be untreatable, has cured itself almost and all painkilling meds are at present being used so sparingly as to be almost redundant. It's not all plain sailing as although I am still off the Xeloda the effects of PP and mouth ulceration are still giving cause for concern and I am grateful for your advice. Last evening I resorted to good old fashioned gargling with salt water before retiring for an early night (back awake and on the computer again now at 01.55)  and that appears to have been efficacious. As is it I'm now here dunking my nuts in ginger and lemon tea as usual, if you'll excuse the expression, my feet are smothered in E45 and I am contemplating calling in the chiropodist earlier rather than later for a second appointment.

Anyway lovely lady, enough of me for now, you can catch up on my blog as this message will be at the core of my next entry to be started soon, how are you getting along in solving the problems of your own life's great perplexities. I hope the trials and  tribulations are balanced in your favour. If anyone deserves a break it has to be your turn soon.

Harvey and one or two selected people have my direct contact details and as yet no one has felt inclined to use them except in wishing me well and just keeping in touch, but I am willing to talk to anyone that thinks I may have some relevant experience of what they are combating in their own lives as long as they realise I don't have many of the answers to their woes and certainly no miracle cures to perform. I do have a pair of very broad shoulders, which as reported earlier seem to be expanding daily, and a very empathetic listening ear - just the one, Mutt and Jeff in the other LOL.

Keeping abreast with the few that I regularly follow on blogs, here and on CR UK seems to be the one area where I'm failing the task and that makes me sad, and so with that please accept my apology for an abrupt 'au revoir' and know that like those still to be contacted there is always a place for you in my befogged, chemically misted mind and more importantly in my heart. I am so conscious of the fact that, even with the close attention of family, friends and my team which remains unstinting, the mutual support from fellow sufferers and carers here and elsewhere is essential to my elevated state of mind and consequentially my chances of giving Goliath and his henchmen a thoroughly good kicking before I finally go down at the end of this epic marathon battle, which, as things stand at the moment , looks to be a long way off.

Looking forward to a long weekend away with Geraldine, staying in the Southampton Hilton; a lunch with many of my local friends and family at the Crown and  Cushion,  Minley on Tuesday and finally to a real birthday treat on the day itself: My third cycle on the Real 3 trial at St Luke's Cancer Center, Guildford on Wednesday. They did kindly offer to switch dates but I couldn't think of a nicer bunch of people to celebrate my 62nd with than those dedicated angels on the Chilworth Suite whose cheerfulness day in and day out, amongst all our anguish, keeps me sane and determined.

Lots of love and light. Hugs and kisses.

David"

I am dumbfounded by just how well I am. In the past, by my nature, I would  be very loathe to say 'It all sounds to good  to be true and can't possibly last'. Now with Goliath in a state of submission, I know he will be back to finish his campaign, but in the meantime I will make the most of my new found wellbeing by enjoying a 'normal' life whilst summoning up more strength, energy and determination to face his next onslaught: When, where and how that may arise is immaterial at present as my experience so far puts me in good stead to tackle most of the worst aspects of what may or may not lay ahead waiting in ambush.

Tuesday's second trip down the M4 to Sherston in Wiltshire to visit Ian and Annete was another most enjoyable day out especially as Ian is bearing up well under the onslaught of both chemo and radiotherapy and a reduced level of morphine based pain relief. You'll all be so pleased to know we now share similar bowel habits which make high wire balancing artistes out of us or should that be circus clowns! Accompanied by Jennie and my grandchildren, I left Yately at about 10.30 and, would you believe it, headed for The Compass Inn at Tormarton, only to discover mine host, Paul Monyard, was swanning off in the sunshine of Cape Town for a couple of weeks, leaving the running of the esatblishment in the more than capable hands of his own son Rupert, assisted in part by Ian's son Francis. Our plans to visit either the Cotswold Country Life and Water Park or the Westonbirt Arboretum were scuppered by the inclement weather which also made driving down the motorway very tiresome in more ways than one and I was only too relieved pull into the pub car park happy in the knowledge that Jennie had already volunteered to drive on the way home. So, after enjoying a couple of pints of ale from both the Box Steam Brewery (est: 2004) and Butcombe's (brewing since 1978) and lunch of rarebit style field mushrooms followed by poached smoked haddock on a bed of mustard mash washed down with a half bottle of Klein Constantia 2008 (took the other half to Ian's to finish; but never did!), we covered the remaining few miles up the road towards Malmesbury and the Crouch household.

By the way my daughter, grandchildren and Chaka ate heartily too and they all behaved impeccably which says a lot for my daughter. This of course relates to how well she has raised William and Ellen and not to the fact that her usual behaviour in pubs tends towards the outrageous! (trust you know I'm just joking about our lovely daughter, Valerie).

It was lovely to see Clare and Molly at home on a visit from Merseyside and Ellen and William were so enthralled by the one year old toddler that we nearly had another passenger on the way home.

Molly again was equally enamoured with Chaka. After various styles of coffee prepared Dulce Gusto (One of this year's Xmas present buying nightmares banished into happy oblivion - No, Jennie, despite it sounding like an Italian sports car, doesn't want a Latte Macchiato, but does now want the machine which makes one. Watch out 'ebay' here we come!) rounds of cheese and ham sandwiches with home cured pickled onions Ian and I adjourned somewhere in the labyrinth of his Cotswold Manor House, where I made repairs to the framed photo of Clare which I took on her wedding day.

Ian showed me the exquisite pale yellow evening top which he has crocheted for Annette. A toast to each other with a couple of large Bells and few racing tips under my belt and it was time for our return journey to Northeast Hampshire, and on to Berkshire for the Saunders family. With me clutching a gift of boxes of neigh on antique cigarette cards (how's that for irony) we made our farewells and hit the still wet, spray drenched roads back to home.


The other good news is that I am still breathing that air; more strongly than ever and have every intention of doing so for quite some time:

New Zealand here we come!