Salad days

John said I should take a picture of this salad because it looked so colourful.

This is my 'low' week - when blood count drops which can cause anaemia. Feel a bit tired but that's ok when all you have to do is read books in the garden, watch Wimbledon and make salads.

Yesterday the Dean of Nottingham Cathedral came to visit. (I am Catholic albeit not a very good one). We had a nice chat and he gave me a 'Plenary Indulgence'*. Nick thought this sounded like a high-calorific pudding; something full of cream, chocolate and liqueur. So it's summer salad for main followed by a Plenary Indulgence for dessert. Anyway, it was pleasant.

Next week is my 'good' week, when blood count shoots back up and I'll feel almost normal, before going back for another dose. I know this is only the first round, and chemotherapy is cumulative, but it's been a huge relief to have had virtually no side effects. Must be all those positive energies, complementaries plus the odd indulgence.

When Colonel Sensitivity texted for a de-brief I took great pleasure in telling him how well I feel. He hasn't yet replied!



*A Plenary Indulgence is a sort of top-notch blessing. In the middle ages dodgy clerics used to sell them.

Margaret Higgins: 3 September 1952 - 26 June 2010

Margaret, who I knew in Manchester, died on Saturday.

When I arrived in the city in '94 to start a new job and not knowing a soul, Margaret was one of the first people I met. She and her family were warm and welcoming.

They were true stalwarts of the community. All sorts of people with all sorts of issues beat a path to their door and found sustenance there. The Higgins were Christians in the purest sense of the word; giving and non-judgemental.

Last week Margaret phoned to find out how my chemotherapy went. Although very breathless and in the last stages of her cancer, she still found time to ring me. One of her talents was calligraphy and this is a card she made me years ago when I was in a low spot.

Her charismatic faith shone out beacon-like and led her to some interesting places, such as Hong Kong where she worked with addicts and former Triad members, and Belfast where she pioneered for peace among communities on both sides of the divide. In latter years her belief sustained her through each stage of her terminal illness.

She has now gone to meet her destination. She will be missed by many. May she rest in peace.

Pinky and Perky

Been to the clinic to have my boob checked out. Shaping up nicely. Can now wear whatever bra I want! Here's a few for starters.

The breast care nurse was very impressed with JP's customised pink and white number and wanted to know where I got it. In the business she's in she thought she knew every bra on the market.

Perhaps there's a future for him in lingerie should the Cameron cuts penetrate too deep? Question is, what to call it?* Pert by Perky?


*Where's Peter Smith when you need him?

It's the drugs!

They give you steroids for the first three days after chemo which make you wired. Perhaps I should use this brief window to moonlight as a nightclub bouncer?

Have been doing daily moxibustion prescribed by the acupuncturist, which involves burning a stick that looks like a fat cigar and holding it near points on the shin - see pic. Been doing it outside. It smells like weed, so the neighbours may think I've got a heavy skunk habit. Might have the Police helicopter round next!

Have delayed the next chemo session slightly so I can go to Trish's wedding, otherwise it would have fallen during the high-risk period when I have to avoid gatherings.

Some people have asked about visiting. Yes please! I love visitors as long as you don't bring any bugs with you. Critical time is 7-14 days after treatment when the immune system drops dramatically so you can't fight infection.

Looking forward to a day of warmth and Wimbledon, oh and and swingeing coalition cuts of course.

Unlikely remedies

Amazed at how well I feel. Apart from slight nausea last night, for which I found some new cures (eating sweet baby carrots and playing swingball) I've been fine. In hangover terms it's about a Class D.

I probably feel a whole lot better than certain people; BP's Tony Hayward, Fabio Capello and the whole of the England squad to name a few. Not really following it but gather it's all going abit belly-up. Slovenia look pretty good to me, so I suppose if it's all over come Wednesday there will be lots of red and white wigs going cheap - in case I fancy a change.

Someone said the other day: "Lucky you being off work during the world cup." So I said: "Wanna swap places?"

Perhaps I could use all this injury time to get into football, but not sure I could cope with the constant drone in b-flat major. Now Wimbledon is a different matter...

Have been wandering round the Sherwood Art Week trail. All the businesses join in and display artwork. It brightens up the drabbest of shopfronts.

One down

Five to go...

So far so good.

Worst bit was waiting two and a half hours to be seen. Oh well, that's NHS time*. Once we got in it took what seemed like nanoseconds to pump five different drugs into me.

Nurse said: "Don't worry about the air bubbles. It's a myth that they can kill you." How reassuring. Up until then, I hadn't been worried!

Feeling fine right now. No sickness, and hair intact. Let's see what tomorrow brings. Meanwhile the lovely JP is cooking casserole to eat while I can still taste.

Thanks for all your messages of support, and thanks to those who've been through this for telling me what to expect (especially the tip about ice cubes and prickly bum sensation!)


* There are three time zones in the UK: GMT, British Summer Time, and NHS time. NHS time may be several hours behind.

Essential chemo survival kit

Clockwise from centre:
1. Fresh fruit to tackle the toxins
2. Digital thermometer for daily temperature readings. If you heat up higher than 38 you head for hospital
3. Light reading and viewing for heavy days
4. Hair! (and head to hang it on when not in use)
5. Mouthwash. Chemo causes mouth sensitivity
6. Sunhat and sunblock - bald heads burn!
7. DAB radio. R4 beats daytime telly any day
8. Juicer to liquidise the fruit - easier on sore mouths
9. Hypnosis CD - induces a state of well-being and relaxation (works for me and the cat).
10.Ginger tea, ginger sweets, ginger chocolate. All things ginger are good - with the possible exeption of the Duchess of York.

Tomorrow is dose number one. I'm ready now. Bring it on!

Cancer convalescence is a walk in the park

Rob took me to Bradgate Park near Leicester today. It was the home of Lady Jane Grey, who was queen for nine days, before they beheaded her. Poor Lady Jane, she was only sixteen. Afterwards they decapitated some of the trees in solidarity.

Here are some pictures of the various ruins, follies and animal-life there. This peacock very kindly gave me one of his feathers. I thought that was a good omen, then a woman in the teashop told me peacock feathers are unlucky. But of course I don't believe any of that superstitious rubbish.

'Hear all, see all, say nowt;

'Sup all, eat all, pay nowt; and if tha ever does owt for nowt do it for thysen.' (traditional Yorks saying).

Have been in God's own country this weekend visiting lovely people in Wetherby. My mother, rest her soul, would be horrified to hear Yokshire thus described. When I was growing up the wars of the roses still waged in our household; in her Lancashire head they were still fighting. Yorkshire puddings were off the menu, and she once sent me off on a walking holiday near Whitby with the warning: "Watch out for those Yorkshire farmers. They'll shoot you."

Personally I find Lancashire and Yorkshire people very similar. They exude warmth and community spirit and have a way of speaking their minds which is refreshing to someone of a more southern disposition.

We cycled to Spofforth. Sounds like something out of Harry Potter, doesn't it? There is a ruined castle there - shown in the pic. We went to the pub of the same name.

Then it was back to Notts for barbecues and more barbecues, before the British summer intervened once more.

Chemo starts on Friday. Now it's getting close I want to get on with it so I can get it over with.

What's your poison?

'Chemotherapy..is a controlled systemic poisoning.' Dr Friedrich Staebler

The after-effects of a dose of chemo include: nausea, vomiting, dry mouth, tiredness, visual disturbance, confusion, memory loss.

Sounds like a heavy night on the ale!

Better stock up on alka seltzer.

Oscar's alternative therapies

Oscar is better at yoga than me - as you can see he can get his leg behind his head. He is also pretty good at relaxation and meditation, and when we listen to the hypnosis CD in the morning he doesn't wake up when he's told to, but stays in a trance until roused by a whiff of tuna or the sound of a distant tin opener.

I'm becoming a complimentary therapy junkie. Just been to acupuncture. I am going to try something called moxibustion which, it's claimed, can enhance the positive effects of cheomotherapy while lowering the toxicity. The technique has been pioneered by a guy called Dr Friedrich Staebler who qualified as a medical doctor then later took up Chinese medicine. He recommends this treatment alongside acupuncture as a back-up rather than an alternative to conventional cancer treatment. Worth a try.

I know there's a lot of quack science out there but acupuncture is something I think works. I started doing it about three years ago in an attempt to break a cycle of constant colds and fatigue. Since then I've been virtually virus free. Then I went and got cancer.

Perfect day

Featuring bikes, boats and barbecues...
Yesterday began with glorious sunshine and finished with an apocalyptical thunderstorm. We took the bikes out round the Attenborough lakes, another first since the operation (pushbikes - not yet ready for the Yamaha), had a picnic out on the river then in the evening threw some fish on the barbie and lit the fire bucket -seen here kindling to the accompaniment of JP on guitar. Later we retreated inside to watch the lightning. Today everything smells of wood smoke.

Military diplomacy

I phoned Colonel Sensitivity yesterday. Big mistake. He told me I might as well write off the next four and a half months because chemo will make me feel so dreadful.

And he knows best, because he knows one person who's had it. One! I've spoken to dozens!

According to him my optimism is foolishly misplaced. I should prepare for the absolute worst so as not to be disappointed. And to avoid infection, I must not go out and not see anyone.

He said: "Do you think you've got the mental strength to deal with this?"

Well I'm doing ok so far. I've had two killer diseases before the age of 50. Two more than he's ever had.

Is this the way he motivates his troops?

He then wanted an argument about politics, but by then I'd had enough.

And as usual I thought of all the things I should have said after putting the phone down.

I only phoned up to speak to his wife. She deals in compassion and empathy where he deals in conflict.

Hair!

This (the one called Laurie) is what I will look like in a few weeks time. People will hardly be able to tell the difference!

Some people go for a second wig, and as you can see there are plenty of other options should I get bored. But how to choose? Perhaps I should put it to public vote?

Meanwhile, we civil servants are now able to find out how many of our big cheese bosses earn more than the Prime Minister: http://www.direct.gov.uk/en/Nl1/Newsroom/DG_188114