New Year's Eve

J is coming over later. We’re going to cook supper together and watch – Fight Club on DVD! And if we can be arsed ( er…bothered) we’ll stay up to watch The Hootenanny and toast in the new year.

And what a year it’s going to be.

Every New Year’s Eve I think “I wonder what things will be like next New Year’s Eve?”

Never more than this one.

But as I said a while ago, in spite of everything, this is still living – you can’t take a detour or do a u turn – and from that point of view, I’m determined that it’ll be a good year, not an annus ( or anus) horribilis.

Happy New Year everybody!

xxx

Sheer Bliss!

A long lie in this morning and then a drive in the snow to The Locker Room in Newcastle.

For Christmas, J had given me a voucher for a treatment called Sheer Bliss. And it was! After three Blissed Out hours with Danielle I stumbled out into the drizzly Newcastle night and headed home.

But not before I did something I've been meaning to do for ages. I finally made my mark on the flickr wall:




I was supposed to meet other flickr people after my Sheer Bliss session for The Newcastle Flickr Installation and Shoot as well but suddenly my nice warm house sounded more attractive than a cold warehouse on the Shields Road. Sorry guys, I'm shallow and lack commitment. Next time eh?

Lots of contact by email from other colon cancer people today which is great. Especially the advice:

Ask for an epidural

Get a recliner

Know when it's time to stop eating for the the day

I'll keep posting the links I find.

And now for a nap in front of the telly. 

Brad and Percy

Christmas/Good Luck presents from J and my mum respectively.

Brad - as in Pitt. Star of Fight Club . J also bought me the book and the DVD for Christmas.

Percy er... Brockleshurst. It's what he's called. It says so on the label.

They've started to weave their spells already. Today I discovered that I have a Cancer Cover on my bank loan insurance that I didn't even know about. It should clear the whole of a large bank loan that I haven't ever managed to quite shake off over the last 10 years or so! Forms filled in by phone this afternoon.

Really no excuse not to finally buy myself a Fender Telecaster now. I think I deserve it.


Saunters off to bed whistling " Love Me Fender..."

The Ileostomist

So - a trek out in the snow this morning to Chester Le Street to see Denise the Stoma Nurse. Like everyone else so far, friendly, knowledgeable and helpful - and giving me as much time as I wanted with my questions.

I won't go into too many details here - the link I put up a couple of days ago explains the practicalities of it all. ( Yes - you do still get wind. Just comes from a different place...)

And the operation is actually an ileostomy - not a colostomy - depends where they link into the bowel apparently. So - I will go from Apologist to Ileostomist.

Two real reactions - one was just the raw factuality of it. The surgeons do this for this reason. This will happen. Most people take to it fairly easily. We're here to help - and will visit you at home. Avoid nuts and sweetcorn. Bananas are good. That was all very clear but it brings it home to me that it's my innards that we're discussing.

The other feeling is of reassurance. They won't let me out of hospital till they're sure I can cope with it ( she says 10 -14 days as opposed to 8-10 from the consultant) - oh and the impotence thing is unusual.

I do feel wobbly today though - partly this cold. Partly not sleeping well. Mostly the inevitability of it all.

I was saying to J the other day that for me this cancer is still all part of living - it's not like I can opt out of it or take a detour round it. I'll still be me during it and ( although of course it will change me) me after it. No choice.

Doesn't always mean I like that. 

D is for...

Vitamin D3. I had another broken night's sleep and so heard about this. So basically I should eat so much Vit D that I risk renal failure or go out in the sun for so long that I risk skin cancer. But heh - I avoid colon cancer!

But of sunshine would be nice today actually. It's snowed again in the night.

Astute readers will note that I'm not in the best of moods this morning. Mainly due to this cold. You'd think that if you had a life-threatening condition like cancer, you might be spared a minor ailment like a cold.

But no - I am snot mountain.

Humph.

C is for.... (ii)

...cold!

As in weather and as in sniff!

This was taken in Gunnerside in the North Yorkshire Moors today. J and I went up there for the afternoon to see some friends who were renting a cottage there.























Earlier Mum and G had left for home after a lovely Christmas Day and Boxing Day at home. (I'll explain about Percy - and Brad - later...)

It's been a nice break - I managed to put the "stuff" to the back of my mind most of the time and enjoy myself. But I've not been sleeping well and have decided to really cut back on alcohol from now on - it just doesn't help at all.

Also I had quite a large bleed this morning which is, well, just worrying. At least I know what it is now, eh?

Stoma Nurse in the morning.

Off we go again!

C is for....

Durham Cathedral
Originally uploaded by Menage a Moi.

...Christmas.

Have a great one everybody!

Simon xx

Cut Out The Middle Man

Another potential title for this blog I think.

Actually it came up when J and I were waiting at the hospital last night to see Mr Bain. I saw a cancer charity collection box and suggested we could just leg it with the money ie: Cut out the middle man.. Then we realised.

You gotta laugh. Well - we did.

Less so with the doctor. This is fucking serious stuff. There are percentages all over the place with this sort of bowel cancer - to do with mortality ( 5%). Recurrence - reduced by 50% if I have the radiotherapy before the surgery. Impotence - 10- 12 % chance. ( Oh - and I can get one Viagra a week on the NHS! Please Sir, Can I Have Some More... )

J wrote down the other stats - I suddenly lost the ability to write.

And all sorts of things that can go wrong with the op itself. Blockages. Twistings. Peritonitis. Blood clots.

Waiting for the analysis of the bits he takes out will be bad -that's when they finally decide the grade of cancer I have on the Dukes Scale. This then determines survival chances ( more percentages) whether I have chemo, permanent colostomy etc.

Oh - someone was asking about the colostomy? That's what a Stoma Nurse deals with. Seeing her next week. If you're not eating at the moment, here's more info here.

Even when the op is over and after the recovery and then the reconnection in six months, there will be three monthly check ups. Then after five years clear, you're clear.

But he answered all our questions - we didn't feel rushed at all. At the end I asked him what was the main thing that patients didn't ask him but he thought I should know. ( J later said it was funny to watch us doing our squaring-up-to-each-other-as-fellow-professionals thing ) He said that it's the rollercoaster - the post op "I'm Alive " elation, the hospital glums, the setbacks, the getting home slowness, the stress.

Not sure how you can prepare for that but I am going to go and see a counsellor about that stuff - to try and see if that might help me prepare. At least it will be someone uninvolved to talk to.

So the the facts.

The Radiotherapy will be at Newcastle General from 16 - 20 January.

The Surgery will be on Tuesday 24 January - I'll go into hospital the day before. More Picolax for me! In hospital for 8-10 days.

And yes, it's the Nash and University Hospital North Durham for me. (Still with Mr Bain thank goodness and on the same timescale.) I spoke to the Administrator of the Health Scheme yesterday and she confirmed that they only cover cancer and heart disease to diagnosis. I discovered that I've never been sent the scheme booklet and when it arrived today, it was a class example of weaselly bollocks:

"Please be aware that the Trustees will always promote a centre of excellence policy with regard to Oncology and Cancer Treatment in particular, and where they deem it to be in the Members best interest, once a diagnosis and prognosis has been made, will implement a transfer to such a unit. This may well lie within the NHS... "

But that's fine. Nothing against the NHS at all. I'm sure it'll be great. And the hospital is next door to Durham Station and in the middle of the city. Much easier for visiting.

But the whole hour was a rough ride.

Afterwards we went for a beer and then home for an Indian and more wine. Lots of talk. Some planning. Lots of holding. Some laughing. ( And yes, a bit of weeping.)

Boy - are we pissed off that I have cancer!

I didn't sleep much last night - just rehearsing stuff. But actually feel pretty much OK this morning. Just a bit dopey.

J off to fight Tesco's - then to her girls for Christmas. Back on Boxing Day. Mum and G here at 2.00pm. I should be tidying not blogging!

And in some weird meataphor for my life, I'm waiting for the plumber! No - a real one. I've got no fucking hot water!

New Link!

After my earlier post about this, StevieB came to the rescue with the right html code. Thanks very much, Steve - looks great!

Down to the business...

...of being treated for cancer with a bump today.

After my early start in London I got to the NCCT well in time for the appointment with the consultant radiologist.

On the way up to the hospital, I discovered that my taxi driver had had oral cancer six years ago. It's bloody everywhere!

Sat and waited for the appointment. And waited. And sat. And waited.

No pretending we're in for ingrowing toenails here. I watched a succession of the gaunt, brave, manic, confused and damaged go for their appointments. After what I've seen today - thank God it's my arse!

Was eventually seen by Mr Dobrowski the consultant 1 1/2 hours later!

In spite of my best efforts, I liked him. Dry, helpful and Polish. Explained my treatment :

Five consecutive days radiotherapy on the site of the tumour. Not to shrink it but to "disinfect" the area around it in preparation for the surgery which would be the week after. Reduces the chance of recurrence.

Dates? Either week beginning 9 January or 16 January.

Will also need another CT scan before then.

Side effects? Bit of diarrhoea is all.

Oh - and possible impotence.

Sorry?

Possible impotence.

WHAAAATTTT???!

Apparently it can be a side effect of either the radiation or the surgery. And not always permanent. But still - a shock. And something to talk to Mr Bain about some more tomorrow evening.

Home then to try to sort Christmas a bit - I'm now on holiday till 3 January! Wish it felt like that. Mum and G coming on Friday. ( He was 70 today. In reply to my birthday text, he replied " Made it!" As if he might not have.)

Then a call from Denise the Stoma Nurse. I said I was keen to talk to her because this is the bit I'm most worried about at the moment. I just shudder when I think about it. Got an appointment to see her in Chester le Street next Wednesday.

I must say, they do seem to have pulled this all together very well so far. And the radiotherapy and Stoma Nurse are NHS anyway - only the hospital and surgeon are private.

And the whole thing might be NHS yet. I discovered today that the North East Chamber of Commerce Healthcare Scheme that I belong to only covers cancer ( and heart conditions) up to diagnosis! Their glossy brochure ( or my booklet) doesn't say anything about that, does it?

The woman who administers the scheme isn't in today but will call me back in the morning. Something else to discuss with Ian Bain tomorrow night though. But he did say right at the beginning that it wouldn't be a problem to go NHS with him if I needed to. Maybe I could fund the hospital bit myself? Will have a think.

So. A long day today. But things are moving along. Of course that's good, but I do sort of feel swept along in it a bit as well.

Next update Friday probably. 

What's in a name? (iv)

Well - you my small, but perfectly formed readership have begun to come up with your own thoughts on The Renaming of The Blog.

The latest idea comes from Anon who suggests that the blog should be renamed on 1 January as:

Anus Horribilis...

It's not all bad you know... (iii)

With Ann-Marie and Maggie at last night's Christmas Party.

Mobile Blogging

I discovered halfway through doing the posting via my mobile on the train earlier that emails from the phone are restricted to the length of a single text message and there's no facility to wrap it over into a second message like you can with texts.

Useful to find that out now as my mobile will probably be the best way to post to the blog once I'm in hospital.

(Thinks aloud) Of course I could get round it by posting via email on my ipaq and then sending to the blog via the bluetooth link to the mobile. (Keep up!)

On the other hand - is this the excuse to get a Blackberry that I've been looking for...?

First Mobile Blog

Trying this from my mobile on the train back from London - last time this year!

A bit hungover. Work Xmas Party last night - a good time had by etc. Will post a photo later.

Didn't plan to be on such an early train but I've a last minute appt with the consultant radiologist in
Newcastle @ 10 am.

What's in a name? (iii)

Just noticed this one in my last posting.

Another class rename for the blog:

" deliver me from clever arts"...?

This Is Your Life

Funny how this blog is feeling like a performance today - I don't mean it to be. I don't want it to be. But sort of know why that is. And think it will change again. My blog innit?

In another way I don't give a toss. I come across things - words. Lines. Music. Often music. And I want to share it - say that it means something now. At this moment.

Anyway. I heard this ( yes - you should be able to download it) at the end of last week. The words were class. Inspirational.

I've seen the film before - but it may become an obsession now. J has it on tape - says she'll bring it over. But I may get the DVD anyway.

I think you'll get it.


This Is Your Life - The Dust Brothers

And you open the door and you step inside
Where inside our hearts
Now imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light
That's right, your pain
The pain itself is a white ball of healing light
I don't think so

This is your life, good to the last drop
Doesn't get any better than this
This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time

This isn't a seminar, this isn't a weekend retreat
Where you are now you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like
Only after disaster can we be resurrected
It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything
Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart

This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
Doesn't get any better than this
This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
And it and it's ending one-minute at a time

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else
We are all part of the same compost heap
We are the all singing, all dancing, crap of the world

You are not your bank account
You are not the clothes you wear
You are not the contents of your wallet
You are not your bowel cancer
You are not your grande latte
You are not the car you drive
You are not your fucking khaki's

You have to give up, you have to give up
You have to realize that someday you will die
Until you know that, you are useless

I say let me never be complete
I say may I never be content
I say deliver me from Swedish furniture
I say deliver me from clever arts
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth
I say you have to give up
I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may

This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
Doesn't get any better than this
This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
And it and it's ending one-minute at a time

You have to give up, you have to give up
I want you to hit me as hard as you can
I want you to hit me as hard as you can

Welcome to Fight Club
If this is your first night, you have to fight



London tomorrow.

Beating Bowel Cancer

I came across this organisation recently. They have a very good website - clear, simple and jargon-free.

I wrote to them to ask if I could link from here to their site. They said yes, which is great. Thing is, does anyone out there know how I make the link in the side panel of this blog using the logo? I can link to the logo itself ( just by putting it on my flickr site and linking to it there) but of course I want the link to go directly to http://www.bowelcancer.org/ itself. Any ideas?

They also asked if I'd consider being a Patient Voice for them. Feels a bit early to me really.

Weekend Update

A lovely weekend at my stepfather G's surprise 70th birthday party in Herefordshire. All the family were there - including Natty my nephew, who loved being the centre of attention. Glad I wasn't.

And I couldn't beleeeve it! I forgot to put the battery in my camera! So no pictures from me. But my brother had his camera there so there will be photos eventually.

J and I drove over on Saturday afternoon and back on Sunday - gave a us some time ( but there's never enough) to talk - but also to think about questions for the doctor on Thursday. The drive was a long hard slog. And on top of that ( or because of it) J has come down with a bug.

My last day at work tomorrow - meetings and Christmas party in London.

I'll be glad to stop for Christmas though. Trying to deal with the complexity of feelings and emotions around at the moment ( both mine and those of others - as well as how they interact ) is wearying. Makes me feel clumsy. At least Christmas gives an excuse for me and cancer to forget it for a while and have a quiet game of football in No Man's Land.

Although of course, mum and G will be there.

What's in a name? (ii)

Still thinking of new cooler names for this blog.

Two more tonight - yet again, from music:

" Other forms of boredom disguised as poetry.."

and

" I'm no hero, it's understood..."

waddya think?

What's in a name?

A couple of people have asked me why I use the name The Apologist to sign this blog.

Two reasons:

a) It's a song by REM:

 they call me the apologist.
and now that I'm at peak.
you know at first it really hurt.
we joke about these things.
I've skirted all my differences
but now I'm facing up.
I wanted to apologize for
everything I was. so
I'm sorry, so sorry...

did you understand me right?
the people here are good.
they tell me what I should have done
and offer what I could.
I'm good, all is good
all's well, no complaints.
when I feel regret,
I get down on my knees and pray.

I'm sorry, so sorry...

I live a simple life
unfettered by complex sweets.
you think this isn't me?
don't be weak.
there I go.
I'm so sorry.

thank you for being there for me.
thank you for listening, goodbye.
I can forfeit selfishness
I hope for you that you apply
this happiness
this peacefulness
I'm sorry, so sorry...

I live a simple life
unfettered by complex sweets.
you think this isn't me?
that's so sweet.
I'm so sorry

b) I'm sorry? What was the question?

It's not all bad you know... (ii)

With M and K at the office Christmas meal this lunchtime.

Blog Search!

Ok - this might not be the greatest idea.

But anyway. I'm looking to link this blog to other people with bowel cancer. And it's a chore finding them - because we hide away.

So - what can you find for me?

PS: cancerblogamoi retains absolute editorial rights on responses!

It's not all bad you know...

Taken at a lovely chatty lunch with B in Liverpool today. We agreed to keep the hats on for the duration of the pictures.

60 Hope Street. I can recommend it .

Scanning

Written Wednesday

The last 24 hours have been OK. I've felt pretty much in control, even good humoured. It is nearly Christmas, after all - the time of year I love only second to my birthday.

Of course it all suddenly becomes serious again once I'm back in hospital for the CT scan. Drinking orange juice with some kind of dye in it sort of marks you out in the waiting room.

Yet again two very nice technicians. Even though "it's against the regulations" they let me take this picture once I'd reassured them that neither I nor they would appear in it! Good of them to warn me that the injection of (more) die as you pass through the machine makes you feel like you've peed yourself!


Probably the word association between "die" and "injection", but I couldn't help thinking about Tookie Williams, executed in California yesterday morning.

Back at the office, a friend and colleague whose husband is recovering from cancer said that the thing they've discovered is the fact that the rollercoaster just keeps rolling - even after treatment and recovery there are the check ups and setbacks. Be prepared for that, she said - but how do you really prepare for that?

Then the train to Liverpool for a work meeting then lunch with J's daughter B tomorrow.

Although I'm finding it hard to concentrate on reading at the moment, (but not on writing which is interesting) my eye was drawn to this article in the paper which reckons that a high fibre diet doesn't prevent cancer. I suppose that it's fairly academic as far as I'm concerned now.

Also managed to meditate on the train. I haven't done that for quite a while but J and I agreed that taking it up again will really help with all this.

Horribly aware of my body at the moment too. Not in the bodyimage way either - I'm hoping that that's becoming less important to me. But in the way that it's not quite dependable - secret things are happening in it - things I can't control through exercise or will. Or exercise of will actually.

It feels like my car. I've always kept it serviced according to the manufacturer's instructions, (OK I pushed it a bit when I first had it) it gets the right fuel (but I let it get a bit low sometimes ) and I respect the fact that it's not quite as fast as it used to be. In return it gets me reliably from A to B and still accelerates when I ask it to.

But now I feel that it might just blow out on the motorway with no warning. And I can't do a thing about it.

Maybe that's why I increasingly get that " far from home" feeling when I'm er... far from home. Because for the first time since I was taken ill (was that only a month ago?) I got worried about being away from home tonight. Just feeling out on a limb. Away from basecamp.

Staying in the Holiday Inn in Liverpool tonight. Very nice. I'm sure it was just a fluke that they put me in a room with full disabled facilities. Bit like a room in a private hospital l expect. Without the minibar though...

Later, a call from Iain Bain (my consultant). CT scan is clear! So it hasn't spread, thank God. He also says to expect a call about a radiotherapy appointment shortly.

Off on the rollercoaster again!

One more work trip to go. Next Tuesday to London.

Last Night

IMG_1319
Originally uploaded by Menage a Moi.

Forgot I took this last night. After I got back from the meal with K & M.

Reflective and bloodshot eh?

That'd be the drink...

London

Good morning from work in London!

Came down yesterday for meetings. I need to concentrate on something apart from bloody cancer. Everybody great of course - lots of kindness and support. But people are wary of course. Not of me as such - but of cancer, their own feelings about it, how to express the stuff.

Thing is - no-one actually knows the rules here ( especially not me) - but as J said the other day, we all end up in a small room with a doctor telling us bad news at some point, and that's when we start working them out.

Great emails from friends around the world - some with their own sadnesses. None of us stands still eh?

And a lovely meal last night with K and M who work with me in the Gateshead Office. Chatty and funny - much wine drunk and nowt maudlin.

Someone used the word mawkish ( about one of my photos, bless him) the other day - what a fine word. Must use it more. Particularly out of context.

And so to work. Back home tonight. CT scan in the morning - more pre-test starvation!

Lifted!

A slow stodgy day spent keeping thought at bay. Then I went up to my attic and saw this out of the window!

It just lifted me.

Walking Gingerly across The Bruised Earth

Walking Gingerly across The Bruised Earth
Originally uploaded by Menage a Moi.

What about this as an alternative title and image for the blog?

Or maybe it's just a description of my head this morning...

A Final Thought for Tonight

 

The Only Living Blog In Bearpark

Sorry. Just trying that out as a title. I feel that this blog needs some re-imaging. Cooler. More Street. I mean - cancer and a cat with a limeskin on its head?

Anyway.

A lovely day of phone calls and support and love. ( Not frightened of that word any more.)

So tonight I cooked my Classic Comfort Meal:

Gammon
Baked Potato
Bread Sauce
Gherkin
Peas

Red Wine.

Music on. Of course.


I was just about to serve it up when I suddenly thought:

Fine. Meal cooked. Looks and smells great . But why bother to eat it?

Put it in the bin and find the next thing to do...

Three things about that :

i) I didn't put it in the bin. I ate it and enjoyed it.

ii) This is a bit like not doing the flickrmeet last night - a usual thing I deal with but at the moment it's magnified.

This time it was me and food. I love it but it makes me fat.

iii) This blog is more public now - some of you are out there. I might be thinking about this stuff in my own real time and want to phone one of you.

Discuss.

'Cos I' not going to have this level of self awareness forever...

When Does The Wolf Cry?

More later. This may be a bumpy ride

Podcasting...

..is great. Over the last few months I've loved the process of getting to know how to do it - of fumbling with the technology of recording and uploading and creating feeds and publicising. I even made it to itunes! And now of course my oeuvre is out there in Virtualia.

But it doesn't work for this bit of my life. The good "old" ( it's not like even this is quill pen stuff eh?) written word and image and reflection more suit my mood at the moment.

And who knows - the title of any of these blogs might be a downloadable mp3 if the mood hits me.

So this afternoon I did my last Official Podcast for the time being. The York Hospital Poem.

And typically I got my first ever comment on one of my podcasts! Pah!

And before anyone starts flagging this WORRYING and VALEDICTORY. Forget it. I actually can't be arsed with the detail of the technology if truth be told.

Anima Sola

OK - I know it's a soul in torment praying for delivery.

It's also a girl.

And not me - I'm not in that place.

Googling led me to this in a way - just stumbling around. ( I understand that you can actually Stumble. I didn't. This time. )

The actual place I started was the song, " Anima Sola " by The Magic Numbers.

Now - I'm not that keen on their stuff. I mean, it's OK and I've got it. But it's not quite my thing.

Except this particular song.

And in the small hours last night while we had the music just playing in the dark it came on:


He was the only son who wouldn't stay
Barely twenty-one when he went away
Anima Sola keeps me wired
If I grow cold I should grow tired
But I'll get to Mexico before I die

He was the only son who couldn't lie
Just like a setting sun without the sky
Anima Sola keeps me wired
If I grow cold I should grow tired
If I grow cold I will grow tired
But I'll get to Mexico before I die

Anima Sola keeps me wired
If I grow cold I should grow tired
If I get cold I will get tired
But I'll get to Mexico before I die


That one line shouted at me:

I'll get to Mexico before I die...

And tonight that took me round the circle that begins with this picture.

I wanted to find out what the Anima Sola was - and why Mexico in the song? And I discovered that this picture is Mexican. More importantly, more Googling told me that

on the Mexican Day of the Dead, it is traditional to add a candle to the home altar display for the "Forgotten Soul". Some people light the candle outside, by the roadside. They build a brick screen around it to protect it from the wind.

And why Mexico?

Well, ever since J and I saw the Frida Kallo exhibition at the Tate in the summer, I've wanted to go to Mexico - especially to The Blue House in Mexico City where she lived with Diego Rivera.

And, through those several degrees of seperation, it was like that song in the night was reminding me.

I have dreams to fulfill.

The flickr wall

If flickr itself is a strange post-modern cultural phenomenon, then the group of people who maintain the flickrwall in central Newcastle must be the zeitest of geists.

I lurk shyly on their periphery - fascinated yet at a distance.

Tonight I decided to join them on a mission to re-draw the wall. It had been erased by the forces of Local Authority and, armed with chalk and torches we were to meet and reconstruct. ( I think beer was mentioned too) I've never met any of the people with whom I talk fairly regularly on flickr but because of all the events of the last week, I felt it was a really important thing to do.

But I chickened out.

I drove up to Newcastle, drove past them all at their work on the wall and just couldn't bring myself to stop. Turned the car round and came home.

I think I'm just trying to do too much too ordinarily. I'm far more vulnerable at the moment than I realised. I've always tended to be fairly shy about meeting new people and I think all the stuff this week just exaggerated it.

So - sorry flickrpeople. Next time eh? 

Forming the words

"I'm sorry to say that I've now got the results of the biopsy back, and it's been confirmed that I have bowel cancer. I'm going to need major surgery ( and perhaps some radiotherapy) early next year but the tests have only found one small tumour which hasn't invaded any other organs and it's in a very operable position. The prognosis is very good indeed for both the operation and a full recovery"

I just needed to work the words out - which J and I did last night.

Still trying to get to grips with the meaning of them.

This site is really helpful for that. But only a bit at a time. Some of the paths still frighten me.

I like Mr Bain my consultant. A straight talker. And the staff at the Washington Hospital ( where I'll have all my treatment) are a great mix of kindness and unobtrusive professionalism.

And whatever the sedative they gave me was, I can recommend it. Makes you just forget . So great to spend time with permission to be slow and stupid. So my clearest memories of yesterday are of mince pies, "Ocean's 11 " and " About A Boy " on DVD, and a walk late at night in the frosty halfmoonness. I'm sure there was something else...

As well as helping with my speechwriting, mince pies and being there when I stumbled in the dark ( and so much more) J pointed out where the line " original air-blue gown" comes from.

A Thomas Hardy poem - The Voice. (Thom and I go way back. I even won a prize being him in A Dead Poets Competition ):

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Standing as when I drew near to the town
Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,
Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze in its listlessness
Travelling across the wet mead to me here,
You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,
Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward,
Leaves around me falling,
Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,
And the woman calling.

Picolax

Picolax
Originally uploaded by Menage a Moi.

This is the stuff.

First sachet at 7.30 am tomorrow morning. Light the blue touchpaper etc.

Colonoscopy on Thursday. I should Google it to find out more, but I know the basics and the rest would just frighten me. Finding it hard enough to hold things together anyways.

Tonight beer and fish and chips.

And a great talk with J. We'll get through this.

Notes

The Beige and The Blue.

MRI

I now know that it stands for:

Magnetic Resource Imaging

But on my terms it's a scary beige tunnel in a mobile unit in the car park of The Hospital.


Had to lie perfectly still for 30 minutes while the thing buzzed and whirred - really claustrophobic. ( " Ruby - Don't take your love to town " played in the headphones didn't help...) Hell may be like that.

Reminded me of caving Aged 11 – stuck in some sludge hole. Believing I was trapped forever. A human fossil..

Aged 11 I cried.

Today I can’t. Yet. But I am very scared.

In that beige tube I tried to meditate but it was horrible when I opened my eyes – the way the roof pressed down – I nearly pushed the panic button.

But of course I didn't.

It was fine and the two technicians were really nice.

( How do I do this blog? Lots more to tell and say but I don't know what. I need to find a language for this. Understand the rules. Make some up? )

and then this evening - music. This came on. A recent download ( so sue me!) from John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats. I played it over and over again. It was beautiful:

original air-blue gown.

rain all burned away
the horseflies are an irridescent green
plums boiled down to pulp
drying on a screen

bright red air inside the house here
i can barely draw breath
dark blue shapes popped behind my eyelids
i am not afraid of death

and on the television
black and white footage of the young Cassius clay
my god, my god, my god
he was something

fists flashing as he comes toward the screen
sailing headlong into nothing
and disappearing
reappearing
out there in the clearing
floating down the slight breeze
that plays along the edge of the leaves
it's you.
it's you.
it's you.


As I say - there'll always be music.

( Oh - and the quest for The Perfect Interior Decor..)

Ward Fourteen - York District Hospital

Place of smells and silence

Of faces and paper

A haze of care


Lift The Patient

The Patient Is Lifted


Handflighted into bed

I can't resist


Lift The Patient

The Patient Is Lifted


Sink featherlight forever into sheets

Drift into conversations with someone.


In the rain

Two fat pigeons snuggle in.


I perch to shit on a tea tray

In the night count drips of saline

Invaded by fear

Memories of blood and light.


The old man in the bed next door shouts " Joanna!"

At least I think it was him.

And it won't be Art...

..but on occasions artful and dodgy I guess.

I mean - if this is my testament to whatever - how do I edit it? Do I edit it?

Not sure what it is tonight. Suppose I'll know when I read it in the morning. Will try not to delete because of course it will always have a truth.

Tonight - a bottle of red wine and lots of wandering about the house. Some work on a poem I started after I was first taken ill on the train. Nearly done I think. Problys publish it here tomorrow.

Finally a walk outside to post this letter. My form to the hospital about the colonoscopy on Thursday

But I still don't really know what I think - let alone feel - about it. ( I think you said something different this morning - Ed)

But of course Lenny Cohen came to the rescue:

Looks like freedom but it feels like death
It's something in between I guess

Goodnight.

Sweetheart

This blog is actually not going to be exactly consecutive. Things will shoot around. But - hey! It's my cancer and I'll cry if I want to.

In Leeds Railway Station yesterday I recognised Jont. I'd seen him support The Mountain Goats and Emma Pollock ( ex Delgados ) in London last week - it was a nice set.

So tonight I downloaded his itunes EP ( hell - I'd have bought the man a coffee if I'd not been too shy/running late!) - and this came up. Same music - different place.

And J's in Stoke tonight :

Sweetheart

Sailing on this motorway tonight
thinking I might drown if the waves aren't right
wind pushing me from side to side
and I'm thinking, of what I had.

How if I broke my legs and I broke my head,
even after all the things we've said
you'd still be there by the side of the road
waiting for me to breathe...

You're my sweetheart
You're my sweetheart
and If I never see you again,
just want you to know what I think

Sammy took me out for a walk in the park
and as the dog ran round the track's lights lit up
people running round in their shorts in the rain
again and again

He said "You can come back tomorrow,
you know you can", I said
" You know I don't wanna do that man"
so he told me he loved me and he shook my hand,
now I'm waiting, shaking in my van.

Thinking that you're my sweetheart
you're my sweetheart,
if I never see you again,
just want you to know what I think -
cos we got so far to go,
are we gonna get by?
I can hardly see the road,
yeah but I'm gonna try,
I'm gonna try....

Cos you're my sweetheart.

Whether we're together in a knot or not
is small beer compared to what we got
so don't smoke yourself to death I shall be the one
who'll always be there, if you've got to run.
Yeah I'll be there, if you've got to run


Whatever this is or is going to be - there's going to be music.

By Appointment

Good to go to work yesterday - down to Leeds for the day.

Nice lunch with D - who's J's lovely 18 year old at Uni there. She's usually quite quiet and reserved but today bright, chatty and funny. ( Heh! Just like her mum!) Just what I needed. I won't tell her about this myself ( or her equally brilliant older sister B who I'm seeing in Liverpool the week after next) - best if J does that I think.

And last night baby sitting ( if that's what you do with 10 year olds ) with A who's my friend S's daughter. S had a date and so I was happy to help. A and I spent the evening watching telly and chatting. ( I am now an expert on "I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of here!" and know my Ant from my Dec.)

Coincidence is a funny thing but and advert came on the telly about Drink Driving and A said the other advert that made her sad was one about cancer... ( Gulp)

S came back home at about 11 but no time to tell her my news ( or her to tell hers from the evening!) - we'll chat on Sunday morning when A is out swimming with her dad.

All appointments sorted now:

MRI Scan - Monday

Colonoscopy - Thursday ( but I have to spend the day before on the toilet...)

CT Scan - 14 December

Consultant Follow Up ( The News...) - 22 December.

Have told A my younger brother about this - will speak to middle brother O today. And Mike my dad. Going to limit other people for now.

Still feel I need loads of time to think about this - and to feel it as well. Don't think that's happened yet.

And so to Saturday.

Not Another Cancer Blog!

(Written on 1 December - have decided I need a seperate blogspace for this)

I hope not - but it's looking that way.

Taken ill on a train 3 weeks ago - everybody saying that it was just an age/diet/stress thing. Took advantage of my Health Insurance ( wouldn't we all actually?) and saw the consultant tonight. Found a growth - gobstopper size.

Bowel cancer? Could well be. MRI scan ( check for other growths) and CT scan ( if it is, has it spread?) next week. Colonoscopy the week after.

Called my mum. Felt the need to protect her from this - she wants to talk to my middle brother about it - they're close - but I don't want a flood of sympathetic calls. And I want to tell my younger brother with whom I'm close. But not yet. No-one else yet.

Except J. My best friend and lover. I told her.

She was great. Tough and loving.

Had some toast later - and some red wine. And this Elbow song came on:

Puncture Repair

I leaned on you today
I regularly hurt but never say
I nearly wore the window through
Where was air sea rescue?
The cavalry with tea and sympathy
You were there
Puncture repair

I leaned on you today
I regularly hurt but never say
You patched me up and sent me on my way
I leaned on you today


Going to go in to work tomorrow. Nowt else to be done