Ding, Ding. Seconds away.........Round Two!

Last (Friday) evening I started to update my blog with reference to last Wednesday's second cycle of the chemo trial but with my eyelids drooping rapidly I abandoned my efforts and made my way to bed for some much needed rest. Now back in that familiar pattern of having been awaken by the build up of pain overnight I am back at the keyboard waiting in a more comfortable upright position for the meds to kick in and also making myself feel sick chomping my way through a tin of Roses chocolates (the soft centres naturally). So collecting my thoughts now what can I tell my avid readers?


It  was certainly a different experience from the first bout in many ways, yet now, having become an old hand at it as it were, a fairly routine procedure; he says with a haughtily blazé attitude to topping up his blood stream with yet another cocktail of toxic chemicals! Armed with a big tin of chocolate biscuits for the team on the Chilworth Ward just in case the charm offensive faltered, I pitched up at the appointed hour; revised to 10.00 by telephone message on returning home from visiting Ian in the Cotswolds late the previous evening.


I digress now to explain how it has now become blatantly evident that despite having our polite request honoured to keep to the same starting time of 08.00hrs on the schedule (even though it was delayed for some hours on the first attempt for reasons now more apparent) for the sake of easy travel into Guildford and more importantly for finding available parking at the hospital, there now appears to be no way round the two main factors preventing this objective: The demand for early slots for higher priority patients (not me obviously) and the the total inability, now proved on two consecutive occasions, of the administrative network to process a request fax to pharmacy by 14.00hrs the previous day in order for the timely preparation of my chemicals; the day in fact on which I routinely have a clinic for blood tests and a debrief and checkup for suitability to proceed with the next cycle, and at which on this occasion  it was actually confirmed, before leaving at 11.00, that all was good for an early start on the following day as previously requested. As it happens we are not phased by this one jot having now organized parking permits for a slot outside a friend's office on the adjacent Science Research Park only five minutes walk from the St Lukes Cancer Centre. Sorted - travel the other side of rush hour and reserved parking! Thank you so very much Mr Dave Lavelle please take a bow and we welcome you tonight for a supper of Gordon Ramsay's Chowder Belle-Mère etc, etc.


Back to the events which unfolded on the day ward as I settled into the waiting arms of a new nursing team and a comfortable armchair. First was the decision on which arm to attack this time as the left arm and veins were still bruised and sore from the previous onslaught 3 weeks ago, but the right arm was needed for editing photos on the laptop to while away the hours and distract me from the potential discomforts of the procedure. On the advice of yet another lovely nurse called Beth who said she could find another vein in the left arm for me to shoot up (now at least I can pretend to understand the desperation of drug addicts in subjecting themselves to such abuse for the sake of their release from torment) I opted for the left again. So with catheter comfortably seated on the first attempt this time (must have got the second team out on my side last time) and with the impression that they and I had all been doing some inter-cycle training the process went off like clockwork bunging it all through in extra quick time (evidently I should not have made it so easy for them at the first rehearsal), in the midst of banter, jokes and shared common experiences of places, real ale micro breweries at Box in Wiltshire (is there a theme running through my blog I ask myself already convinced there is) and restaurants in Farnham. I even felt comfortable, taking my drip stand in tow, to use the toilet facilities on a couple of very necessary occasions (alas now a dim memory following the constipating effects of the anti emetics and steroids now since administered) a practice totally avoided during the much longer course of the first run through). Naturally having just discussed my bowel movements, and who can predict whether they be over active or non-existent, it's totally appropriate to mention a visit from dietitian arranged my team because, although I was not too concerned about my weight loss (down from over 17stone to around just under 16), they were, and felt I needed advice to build up my bulk and strengtyh again. It was obvious to me what the answer was: Get rid of this ******* cancer and let me get down to the pub for a few pints of Bishops Finger and a large T-bone and plate of chips washed down with a bottle best Meerlust Rubicon from South Africa, followed by a healthy selection from the cheese board and a large vintage port. Simples! Apparently their solution is just as simple; just lots of full fat things like milk and cream, in yogurts and my sauces. Not a great hardship to bear especially as I now have two locals that are more than happy to pander to my dietary needs and specially prepare or alter menu dishes for me, and my home cuisine was always a touch Gordon Bleu. The only problem now is finding a sympathetic bank manger - fat chance, if you will excuse the pun, to stave off bankruptcy while I balloon back up to 18 stone, or maybe I can claim a supplementary benefit on Carer's Allowance or DLA?


I hardly had time to finish the very acceptable lunch of soup, apple juice, chicken fricassee and jelly and ice cream and have a snooze before, after only 3 and a half  hours total time compared with over 7, I was being told it was time to sling my hook, and make way for the next poor bugger in the queue. Doesn't time fly when you are enjoying yourself! But the reality kicked back in as, having avoided any pain, sensation or discomfort during the infusion, especially as this time Beth kindly supplied a heated pillow on which to rest my punished arm, on taking our the catheter the effect was like shards of broken glass splinters shooting up my veins. Also having come prepared I was ready on bidding farewell to face the cold on rush of peripheral neuropathy which more noticeably effected me far more intensely and widely this time round:

Chemological warfare/Anti Peripheral Neuropathy outfit
(notice remaining wisp of forelock)

PN is All Around Me

I feel it in my fingers (and up my nose),

I feel it in my lips (and in my toes), 

That tingles all around me
And so the feeling grows
It's written on the wind
It's everywhere I go
(with apologies to the Troggs)
Love is All Around Me

The one big disappointment was not just being deprived of seeing Natalie's lovely smile on bringing me my bag of goodies from the pharmacy, but having to actually go and collect them myself. I made sure we passed by the research offices to register my sternest complaint in person but what can you do when faced with twinkling blue eyes, a blond pony tail and such a radiant smile it would be substitute therapy to conquer all cancers. Yes you're right I melted into a tongue twisted twit too embarrassed to ask for the photo opportunity it presented!

The last stop before leaving to drive home and collapse in an exhausted heap was to book one of my free alternative therapy sessions at the Fountain Center and one for Geraldine too: I opted for reiki and she chose reflexology for which we both returned to to Guildford the following day to carry out with, what this old sceptic considered on reappraisal to be a, resounding success. So more to follow in the shape of acupuncture, art meditation and certainly more reiki.

Not to sure whether or not my next revelation will appeal to the more delicate and innocent blossoms amongst you (do I know any such people?) But here goes: Desperate for a good nights rest I finally decided to take a sleeping draught in the form of the Zopiclone tablets my GP long since prescribed and have layed ignored ever since in the bedside cabinet.I thought this would counter the opposite effect of the one dose of Ondansetron to be taken the first evening of every new cycle: A powerful anti emetic which if taken too late could causes hyper activity over night. Well the combination had me up and down like a jack-in-the-box but not with any desire to sit at the computer and update my blog because also up and very rarely down was an almost permanent nocturnal erection. I'm not complaining too much as it was good to make yet another re-acquaintance with a long lost friend but as Geraldine had escaped to the spare room earlier on account of my restlessness, or even in anticipation of a less than gentlemanly advance on her, I both took pity on her and took my problem in hand with the result that I woke up next morning more exhausted than ever. OK girls you can wipe the smiles from your faces thinking about what a blessing you might think such occurrences are, but as any gent will tell you it ain't no laughing matter...... at least not after a trip to seventh heaven!


Undeterred and equipped with material to give the the dog walking sorority an early morning chuckle I set off with Chaka to Minley Wood on a decidedly autumnal morning, and now under a definitely unfriendly set of weather conditions, where I briefly met Caroline and Fiona and their charges, especially stir crazy Rupert who was straining at the leash to overcome being couped up for his own good, before departing for The Fountain Center. But not before agreeing to meet Caroline later for a longer session during which she wanted to introduce Chaka to yet another playful Vizsla and having been rejuvenated by the Reiki I manage another two or so hours and the dogs made another instant friendship.




Don't know where you're going Fi-Fi,
but we're going this away!



Barney, Chaka and Caroline

The week also finished on a high note as with the PN calming down somewhat, I managed yet again to the overcome all the other debilitating effects one by one except for the first signs of nausea, my fault for getting forgetful about the strict regime but readily remedied,  and the ever problematical bowel activity or more significantly the lack thereof which I just can't work out even with attempts to balance Laxido with Immodium. Even this morning, despite three sachets of laxative,  I am still  waiting for the world to drop out of my bottom  and relieve what are beginning to become the most irritating of the ill-feeling symptoms.. Sorry to dwell, and getting back to the positive, on Friday morning having taken Geraldine to work and leaving the plumber to sort out faulty pipe work around the dish washer and washing machines I headed off  to Virginia Water for lunch at the Rose and Olive Branch with Valerie, my ex-wife and still my good and supportive friend. During a short postprandial walk with Chaka we even found a rare fungi on a fallen elm branch - Rhodtus palmatus (or Wrinkled Peach) - always was, other than of course her winning smile, Valerie's most endearing feature!

Rhodotus palmatus - Wrinkled Peach (exclusively  grows on elm),
a pretty fungi becoming more rare because of dutch elm disease

Before returning to Farnborough to collect Geraldine from work and get ready for Gary's overnight stay at our house, I finally had my referral to an ENT consultant at Frimley Park Hospital to attend. The upshot of that, and a hastily arranged impromptu hearing test, was that my right vocal chords do not function any more and Geraldine's diagnosis of 'selective hearing' has been confirmed. And I now sit here on Saturday morning waiting in trepidation for the arrival of Nicky and her grade two clippers to see if she can retrieve the last vestige of my now decidedly moth eaten barnet, after which it's waiting for a Tesco delivery, and probably an emergency run to Waitrose,  for the ingredients for Dave's 'thank you' supper tonight. So it looks like I'll be chained to a hot stove for the afternoon, rather than a hot date in the woods!

The First Cut is the Deepest! (courtesy Rod Stewart)

You Wear It Well (courtesy Rod Stewart)

The First Cut is the Deepest

You Wear It Well

 'Bye for now folks......
.......the ingredients await!

Chowder belle-merè (in the raw)

"Did I really come all the way from Spain for three bowls full of fish soup and a bottle of Portuguese
 vinho verde from Tescos on special offer?" mused Dave Lavelle

The proof of the pudding as they say........and judging from some of the expressions there may have been a few magic mushrooms crept into the recipe by accident as well as cod loin, undyed haddock fillet, smoked haddock, salmon and prawns? Go on dip your....freshly baked home made wholemeal seed & grain...bread! 

'Cuz I've got a brand new combined chemo-cycle ..........

.........and I'll give it you for free!

Why another variation on the lyrics of that well known Wurzels' song should be the title of today's missive I've no idea, but I have a feeling in the murky waters of my past that Mr Crouch used to do an exceedingly fine impersonation of the lead singer; using distinctly unsavoury wordings. "Ernie (The fastest milkman in the west)" was another of his favourite renditions, and when he crooned to Frank Sinatra ballads the whole world stopped (to listen?) Yes you've guessed it by now folks that, despite my second round in the ring against Goliath on Wednesday, my old pal Ian...... "Crouch"........"Cruncher" or any other 'familar' expletive with which has been used when referring to him, was the focus of my attention this week. (And by the way the only way my chemo-cycle could be described as being new would be the contrast both in it's application and the effects it had on me, but more of that later).

Since last I posted to this blog a lot of water has passed under that bridge which Ian and I rebuilt on Tuesday. Apart from the completion of that notable combined major civil engineering and anthropological project, no I haven't tidied up a single aspect of my life as promised (but I will eventually because there's hardly any room left on this table for my laptop and I'm in great danger of incurring RSI). As planned on that fate filled day I contacted Netty, Ian's lovely wife, and finalized the visit. In consideration was not only our mutual well being, but also the negotiation of trips to our respective cancer centers in Guildford and Bath; mine for blood tests and a debrief and check up by the research team prior to Cycle Two of treatment the following day, and Ian for the paraphernalia of his check ups at the 'consent' clinic meeting with his oncology team prior to starting his radio- and chemo- treatment the following day also.

After I whistled through my appointmentsat St Luke's; joking with the phlebotomists (I thought they all had lovely bottoms!) and reassuringly with Dr Moosar and Sarah Oakes, I double checked with ground control at Sherston that it was all systems go for re-entry and we set off  to the Cotwolds at about 11.15, via a quick home stop in order to collect Chaka,  A good run down the M4 was fated by a favourable omission on my part: Having sailed past my intended exit from the motorway at junction 17 to take the back roads I realised I was approaching 18 and a suitable alternative route. Suitable in more ways than one it turned out because, in consideration of the time of day, if on schedule Ian and Annette would be soon heading home this way too so it seemed, as lunch was beckoning, it was appropriate to stop off, a stones throw from the motorway junction (that's if your using the sling shot I use against Goliath), at The Compass Inn at Tormarton, an amazing Best Western hostelry owned and managed by another mutual friend in the guise of Paul Monyard. Known to us all for many a long year since the Crouches moved to that neck of the woods on leaving the Royal Air Force to study and eventually practice dentistry in Bristol, and when in those days it was simply the best country pub in the area owned by Paul's father, Peter, it was the ideal pit stop. Fortunately mine host was all present and correctly positioned at the bar with his customary personal pewter tankard which provided me the second hereto unthought of objective; that of the opportunity to allay my trepidation about Ian's outlook on his own dreadful circumstances by quizzing Paul. I was delighted to listen to Paul's unhesitating recollection of Ian's confronting of yet another mutual friend and fellow barfly, John Edwards, and accusing him of being in some way responsible for his present condition. Somewhat taken aback, John immediately heard Ian qualify this by saying that "If you hadn't scrounged all those countless fags off me over the years you bastard........... then I would have been dead 6 months ago!" Instantly relieved by this anecdote I somehow knew my old mucker was on form.

Although the the two of them didn't make it to the pub to join us, Geraldine, Chaka and I enjoyed a very pleasant lunch, bade our farewells to Paul, by now seated on his mower attending to the many acres of lawns, and headed down the last few miles to Sherston.

(My apologies that until we receive email attachments from the Crouches, this, due to some incredibly bad management, which I'm puting down to over excitement, that resulted in me leaving home with a nearly full load of unsaved photos on my memory card and, making you believe that lightning does strike twice, Geraldine's camera sporting a flat battery,is the only shot of the day I have. Typically lack of standardisation amongst all the cameras, cards, batteries and chargers available in the Crouch household failed to save the day, but I fret not as every second of that day is etched in my mind)

On arriving we were greeted by nearly the whole family because as well as resident son Francis, staying back home for a few days were daughters Mary and Claire with each of their daughters, Charlotte, 8 months and Molly a year old the next day, both the cutest poppets you could ever imagine. (elder son John put in a welcome appearance later).

Non stop banter and joking, copious refreshment, tours of Ian's fabulous garden, photo shoots and an evening meal and gifts of fresh grown veggies (I thoughtlessly arrived with a bag of wine and beer naively not realising that Ian was already on morphine, but which did prompt a story about their visit to a recently discovered family owned brewery in Belgium, that, I believe, Netty may just conveniently have subconsciously eradicated from her memory banks for all these years) completed a truly memorable day for all involved. I would not have missed one second of it, even including, towards the end of the visit, witnessing Ian take himself off  to a private corner of his rambling old Cotswold mansion house where in great distress he was coughing up blood over his arms and the floor: This was painfully but poignantly relevant to sharing all our memories, our hopes, our dreams and now our fears for what the immediate future holds in store for both ourselves and our families.

So you see, despite that Edington (would you believe even the spellchecker even wants to put two Ds in my name) inflicted glitch in our friendship mentioned in an earlier posting, nothing has changed over the 40 years we've known each other and now we face our final journeys, like so many others we have shared, together side by side. (You were so very right Crystal so it's worth repeating that quote you sent me to remind others that it's never to late to put wrongs to right: "Friends are always friends no matter how far you have to travel back in time. If you have memories together, there is always a piece of your friendship inside your heart." --- Kellie O'Connor) . So it was that in the midst of a fond welcoming embrace and with smiles on our faces we both agree that neither of us remember the clause, in that pact we signed to ruck together and muck together, that stated we had to die of cancer together. 

There are is so much more to tell, and maybe some of it will eventually reach the anecdote's page of my blog but until then I am closing this brief but paradoxically happy chapter safe in the knowledge that it has taught me more lessons in one day than I'll ever learn in the rest of whatever life I have left.

My flood of tears was dammed back until waking the following morning; maybe we should have shared those too, but guys like Ian and me from the BBC (bad buggers corner) don't do tears do we? Well I sure do now and not always in privacy of my own pillow.

Back later to let you know how the chemo and the rest of my week went for the two good reasons: One is  that this episode needs to be exclusive and two, my eyelids are drooping and I'm liable to inadvertently delete the whole ******* lot in a sate of emotional exhaustion and that would slay me long before I got another salvo in against Goliath.

Good night, bless you all and most especially Ian Anette and family.

Signing of with all the fondset love, the biggest hugs and most positive vibes I can muster

David

XXX

P.S. The postman is hurrying to deliver a belated 1st birthday card to Molly.

The sign of a tidy mind is not, I have decided, an untidy desk........mmmmm

Whether or not it was a 'thin' theme running through my mind; thinning hair, thinning blood, thinning body, or Thin Lizzie, but as usual I woke up this morning alongside Geraldine, but what was unusual was the fact that I was thinking about another woman. 'Nothing strange about that; situation normal !' my ex-wife Valerie is probably thinking.  Hearing all the breath being sucked in around me in anticipation of a confession. Well I am sorry to disappoint all you soap opera fans but on this occasion the woman I was thinking about, and who lives in Spain, is Liz. I know Liz only through the threads of the World Wide Web, (which incidentally is also how I met Geraldine ten or so years ago), as she was, in common with many others drawn there in distress, participating on the Macmillan forums. She was dispensing her own unique brand of care and support not only to her loving husband, who had been diagnosed with Oesophageal Cancer in March 2009, but also to a number of other forum users including yours truly. Sadly we learned that Pablo lost his fight against this all conquering foe and pass away peacefully last Thursday, 7th October and has now been laid to rest; at last safe from all the suffering. Liz continues to demonstrate bravery and fortitude in her bereavement and my condolences, together with my respect, go out to her and her son and daughter at this time. So it was in my waking hours that I was wondering how she was bearing up without Pablo alongside her and thinking just how fortunate I was to be sharing another day with family and friends.


Sharing life with me is not for the faint hearted and my thoughts drifted to what little things I could do for a start that would make a big difference. The immediate notion was to tidy up my ramshackle life, my study, my tool box, my bedside cabinet (now strewn with half empty pill containers and blister packs).................where have I put the paper work for my blood tests later today?..............no doubt you are getting the picture in full 3D HD! I know that Geraldine hates it and is resigned to there being little hope of changing my ways but I have decided it's time that my filthy habits are banished and my behaviour reflected my currently tidy mind. OK don't all applaud at once, it's not going to happen over night and it's not going to be easy; but there again I don't do easy anymore!
Now it's time for the regular dose of X factor in my life, capecitabine style and then a shower and a shave, probably the last for some time, before heading towards Guildford and hopefully on to see Ian in the Cotswolds.


Where did I put the bloody paperwork?

Disappointed...........

............in myself that I let the anger and frustration vent on the loved one closest in the firing line. I suspect that, though still inexcuseable,  it's a commonplace trait under these circumstances but somehow Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word especially when the fault's not always all mine alone.

I know it's not the first time I've used this bunch of roses, and I doubt it'll be the last, but at this time of year the garden's paucity is an unavoidable handicap to capturing appropriate fresh images. In any event the message to Geraldine is still clear and sincere: "I am so sorry, I love you dearly and can't do this without you, even if it sometimes seems to you as though that is exactly what I am doing!" xxx

By the way I also owe Dave an apology for that outburst which overshadowed his supper visit on Saturday evening during his sojourn from Spain. (But fear not you won't be getting roses and kisses, though you will be expected to drop by again to help with the consumption of chowder belle-mère and the very acceptable bottle of port you brought to our doorstep)

Waking today with the sniffles after a relatively good night's sleep and with yesterday being such a low ebb not only emotionally, after the weekend's outpourings (and I include my ongoing hairloss in just such happenings), but also physically, as the anemia takes a stronger hold (no doubt there is an affective connection in there somewhere), I face this difficult week with more than just a hint of trepidation. It is another busy week taking into account my plans to visit Ian in Sherston after the appointments at St Luke's tomorrow and not forgetting that all too significant hot date with the nurses on the Chilworth Suite on Wednesday for a day of S&M for which some people would pay a king's ransome. So perhaps the best line of defence is another consecutive day's rest in preperation for the onslaught: A quick a.m.walk, Monty's photoshoot and home to bed sounds good to me! But don't forget to phone GP for blood test results and repeat prescriptions.......Oh, and while you are about it pay monies into bank, and..........bloody hell, you just can't keep a good man down can you?

PS (Posted at 23.30) Thank you all so much for your kind words in the commentary box,

epecially those from my darling wife Geraldine. I love you too XXX.  Just before I go to bed I would like to let you all  know that, despite what's on the cards in future and, moreover thanks to the timely input of some dear friends, relatives like Gary, and Julie, 'mine host' at the Crown and Cushion and her staff (the mushroom risotto for lunch today, made with the Parasols I collected whilst walking, was superb - thanks chef!),  the day got gradually brighter and brighter so that the road ahead, from my viewpoint,  is now definitely a lot sunnier! 

Caroline and Sam

Monty, 'mine boast'

Julie, 'mine host'

Minley this morning during a walk with Caroline and our canine buddies Sam and Chaka. Whoever coined the phrase "It's a dog's life!" obviously didn't know how lucky the dogs and I are to have her as a friend. (see photo above left)

Hi ho, Hi ho......... it's off to woods we go !

The above fungi photos were some of the very first of their kind I took when my interest was piqued in 2006. They show from left to right Amanita citrina (False Deathcap), Amanita muscaria (Fly Agaric) and both Sparassis crispa (Cauliflower Fungus) and Calocera viscosa (Yellow Stagshorn).

(I have not captioned them individually because I have discovered that by doing so, using this software, it eliminates the facility to click on the thumbnail images and enlarge them. The process of inserting, sizing and positioning  images on blogger is extremely and unspecifically hit and miss and irritating for me. I would appreciate if someone has some tips and guidelines to pass on or a method they have discovered of creating picture albums less chaotic than mine. It would be nigh on impossible, I would think, to change horses in mid stream and find a more suitable package to accomodate my requirements)

Passing another milestone along the bridleway to purgatory today, I realised, when showering this morning, that, along with the awareness that not only had the time on my 'five o'clock (in the morning) shadow' stopped, but also clumps of hair from my head were irritatingly washing into my mouth and slithering, hesitently and mockingly down my body to rest on the anti-skid mat on the floor of my bath; followed swiftly by tears of remorse at the start of the loss of my long admired crowning glory! With only a short time to wallow in self pity I rapidly recouped my composure, grabbed my titfer and readied myself for the day's task of leading a fungi foray for like minded enthusiasts joining me and the The Minley Mushketeers in the woodlands around the environs of Hawley Lake in northeast Hampshire. And what a splendid day it was, culminating in lunch at my local hostelry, The Crown and Cushion, where the chef prepared an extra 'dish of the day' on his menu in the succulent guise of Wild Mushroom Tagliatelle in White Wine Sauce; using the bag full of freshly picked Chanterelles we had gathered during our wanderings. For a fungiphile there is no better occasion and what is more, after a few pints in the company of friends new and old, it truly was a day to remember.

A Cep sunbathing in Penny Lane, Minley Wood, Hampshire

Long may days like these continue and I toast you, raising a glass or two of medicinally approved Guinness (so varying the selection of fluids consumed in contrast to the ever reducing choice of foodstuffs I can manage), and wish you all similar happy memories in association with your own passage along life's footpath through the rustling litter and under a canopy of autumn leaves!

Helvella elastica - White Saddle

Helvella lacunosa - Elfin Saddle

Collybia dryophila - Russet Toughshank

Chlorociboria aeruginascens - Green Elfcup

Pholiota highlandensis - Bonfire Scalycap

Laccaia amethystina - Amethyst Deceiver

I know I have skipped some fairly significant red letter days such as last Wednesday when I completed a marathon sixteen hour session which started before 07.45, the time I dropped Geraldine at Ascot Race Course before continuing on to Windsor for a breakfast coffee with my daughter. Caught up in the chaos of a typical family routine, I volunteered to do the school run with the grandchildren en route back to walk the dog around Englefield Pond. Later I met up with a group of friends at Caesar's Camp for a two hour perambulation over heath, through woods and up hill to the ancient fortress, working up an appetite for lunch at The Forresters in Church Crookham with Anna; fellow dog owner and former worldwide explorer, traveller and, of late, curvaceous bunny boarder. After a two way crossing over the territory of Velmead Common, in order to walk off a healthy repast and see Anna home, it was time to head home for forty winks prior to cooking supper before the arrival of visitors in the shape of pseudo-expats from Spain, Lyn and Graham, who helped us empty the contents of a newly opened Pinot Grigiot winebox.

"On a clear day (you can see forever ......forever more)" by The Peddlers
(or in the above image, all the way from Caesar's Camp Fortress, Hampshire to The Wembley Arch) 

There followed a couple of precious rest days, during which I not only attended my GP's surgery for a visit to the phlebotamist in order to relinquish yet more of my now thinning blood (I think from symtoms of lightheadedness the chemo is doing its worst as far as the platelet count in my bone marrow), but also received a home visit from Kay, the representative and advisor at The Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice at Farnham;  a pleasant interlude, though Geraldine still finds the connotations hard to accommodate. In Friday morning's misty sunshine I had a wonderful walk around Warren Heath with Caroline and her nutcase doggie charge, Angus, the Hungarian Vizsla and play mate of  Chaka's. That evening Geraldine and I made our way to a wonderful supper rendezvous with my daughter's former husband Duncan, (still very much a son to me as well as my friend, ally and father of my grandchildren), at what can only be described as the recently rediscovered oasis of a wayside inn at Virginia Water named the Rose and Olive Branch (the only pub of this name in the land apparently).

 
Me..... knackered?  Who are you kidding? But seriously as I look forward (only in the literal sense) with trepidation to next Wednesday's second bout of the intravenous elements of my chemotherapy regime, I am amazed that my constitution is holding up so well save for the anemic dizziness and the totally inexplicable constipation, which defies all logic in view of the amount of fresh fruits and vegetables which are passing through my newly acquired juicer (now working overtime)..........but apparently not quite so readily through me! (Thank you, Caroline for the bottle of 1000mg Vitamin C capsules and the well meaning advice, in connection with relieving my problem, about the efficacy of overdosing. And by the way they are the biggest pills yet in my ever increasing arsenal of pharmaceutical and health supplement stocks). Whilst on this banal subject I must relay to you the best quip from Duncan delivered when I was regaling the assembled company, including my wife, with thoughts of going with my kid brother to New Zealand for the Rugby World Cup next year, and couching it in terms of "it might just finish me off, but what a way to go!.......scenery, rugby, beer, parties with grass skirt glad Maori maidens etc etc.,". He quickly dissolved the bacchanalian notion by reminding me that by that time they would probably be more likely attending to mopping my dribble and wiping my bum. (Apologies to you all, and any fellow diners that may have been ear wigging, for the extreme poor taste, but it made us roar with laughter). Well as my saying goes 'If you don't laugh you'd slit your wrists!' 


C'est la vie avec le cancer !


And it just goes to show that life would be a ball if it weren't for Goliath tagging along.

The before picture taken on 10.10.10

P.S. Just noticed that the hair falling out on to a sheet of paper, on which I am making notes in front of me on the table, is not even my colouring, so Goliath can't even get that right. Stupid bastard!

"Human kindness is overflowing.........

.......And I think it's going to rain today" 


So echo the words in the Judy Collins song which reflect all the kindnesses being shown to me as I continue my wretched journey. Other lyrics of hers ask "Who knows where the time goes?" (You've probably guessed I'm quite a fan!) and I am reminded by them that the days are passing at a whirlwind pace and in such a hectic manner that I am finding it difficult to keep abreast of things. That goes for my blog too and I must make a concerted effort to bring it up to date especially as the recent news is, on the whole, pretty good.


But as another busy morning looms I promise to return later and keep you posted


Bless you all for the support, and I will wear it proudly outside my jogging pants if it helps bring a smile to your faces


love and best wishes to one and all


David [[[XXX]]]

Really Sad

Yesterday evening I received news about a friend I first crossed paths with during my days at the Royal Air Force College, Cranwell in the late 60s early 70s. We rucked together and mucked together for over 35years before I rather foolishly deserted the friendship. Don't ask me why; it's too pathetic for words. Now on learning that, having been very recently diagnosed with small cell lung cancer with metastases to the liver, he has, even with a course of chemo, only months remaining to share with his lovely wife Annette, his children and grandchildren, I cannot put into words how much I regret my inexplicable behaviour. Ian, if you are reading this, I am so, so sorry, I miss you and I want to see you to tell you man to man how gutted I am. I know you'll take heart from the loving care of your family, with love from Big Red.

To the honour of all servicemen past and present, especially those fighting futile wars at the behest of spineless, power hungry, egotistical politicians:

"Sticks and stones can break your bones; even names can hurt you But the thing that hurts the most is when a man deserts you"
(Rod McKuen from 'Soldiers Who want to be heroes')