Please, excuse me

For reasons I'm not going to go into, there won't be much of an entry today.

But, I am quite well, nothing fundamentally wrong.  That's a good sign.  Physically, I am well.  Emotionally, I am a little frayed and come very close to punching some people.  Trust me, they deserve it.

So, until later

Jym

Oh, and don't be strangers.

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

...but the fire is so delightful!  (And, NO!  I will not sing Dean Martin.)

Well, the storm came and went.  But with the weather, my health and laziness, I have done nothing today.  Well, took delivery of a new laser printer and the debut CD by Sand, but nothing much else.  Thus I'm at a bit of a loose end as to what to write about.

I'm about a week into round one of chemo, this is where things can get a bit tough.  My drug regime is a three week cycle, on day one it's IV drugs then tablets until the three weeks are up.  The low point is about a week to 10 days after infusion, which is about now.  I'm fine.  Heck, out the blue an offer to see Camel tonight came up, I'm well enough to go but didn't have enough warning.  But, here's the thing.  I'm staying in doing nothing because it is prudent.

But, here's a problem.  What do I write about?  Cue, to the rescue, cousin Zephyr.  With Lou Reed departing this mortal coil and going to join the choir invisible, how about the greatest dead rock band?  

The what, you ask?  The greatest dead rock band!  Which is odd given my love of live music.  Basically, a bad where all the members are dead.  Or rather, a bad made up of musicians who have passed.  Basically, if I die I want the best jam session available in Heaven when I get there.  Not an easy task, but bear with me whilst I build my band.

One choice was easy, one and one alone.  Bassist.  To quote Highlander, "there can be only one."  Some call him the greatest player of all time, that may not universally agreed but he was a player.  The late and certainly great, Jaco Pastorius.

Weather Report with Jaco on bass.  Just let that wash over you.  My dear and old friend, the award winning composer Lester Barnes visited Jaco's grave recently.  So easy, easy choice.

Now, behind that, drums.  Who to have?  As a big prog fan, not that some of you would have known, whoever I choose has to be stunning.  Basically, the short list is Keith Moon (hellraiser, unreliable), John Bonham (odd, I'm not a Zeppelin fan, so he's out), Gene Krupa or Buddy Rich.  I include Krupa for one very good reason, aside from being a brilliant player, I can post this.

Yep, Apollo 440's Krupa, I like it, but it's not the winner.  Nope, that has to be the man who even Rush Neil Peart admires.  Buddy Rich.  Why, you ask?  Watch this.  But before you do, note he's wearing a dinner jacket with a waistcoat, a bow tie that is done up on a collar that is buttoned up.  Don't forget the collars with cuff links.  Beat that!

Now that impresses me!  That is playing you'd never get on the X-Factor.  Simon Cowell has so much to answer for,

When it came to guitar I realised this was another no brainer.  Zappa?  Well, there was a maverick genius if ever I heard one.  Scary thought, Zappa died in 1993!  Jeff Hanneman, formerly of Slayer.  Nah, to brash.  It has to be the man I always regard as the greatest guitarist of all time.  More grace, touch, style and ability than almost anyone.  Django Rheinhardt.  Get your lug holes round this and agree with me.

Still astounds me.  That is how you play.  Superb.

Keyboard, Manzarek or Lord?  I would go for Jon Lord, big player, big sound, but maybe a little too bombastic  But Manzarek, well he was in The Doors.  Melody, feel and touch.  Hey, you tell me I'm wrong.

So that leaves me with a singer.  I want a girl.  I want blues.  I want Janis Joplin.

Hey - you don't like?   Then let's hear your band of the departed.

Jym

Oh, and in hospital tomorrow.  Back to the medical stuff then.

I declare the weekend a bust.

Saturday has gone.  What a boring day.

Sunday, well I can't be bothered.  Living close to the south coast and with the impeding bad weather, I have done nothing with the day.  Well, aside from get into a staring contest with a hawk and mourn the loss of Lou Reed.

Okay, back up.  I what with a what?

Oh, yes.  Got into a staring contest with a hawk.  Better explain.

There is me, today, stuck at home.  Not really in the mood to go out with the beginnings of the bad weather, so in I stayed and went through some CDs.  Some live Yes, some live Genesis, some live Marillion, some live Kansas - heck, who needs studios?  Sorting out the iPod, exciting things I do.  So, whilst I'm doing this I heard this almighty crash, like something had hit my back door, well the back door to the house.  I'm sure you don't want to think the about it being another back door.  Or the sounds it might make.

So, I wonder into the kitchen and discover a hawk sitting outside having just killed a pigeon.  Now, I don't know about you, but I spend very little time with hawks.  I don't know any, never talk to them, don't write to them.  They just fly around.  So I'm not an expert.  What does the thing do?  It swivels its head and gives me the look of "so what?  I'm a hawk."  I ran off to get my camera so I could give you a look at the thing, but when I came back to take the snap, the bird had flown.  Boring day and that was it.

So, I shall sign off and say, RIP Lou Reed.  Enjoy this.

Jym

I'll try and be interesting tomorrow.

Touching bass with Touchstone in London - An evening of prog!

Wow, I got home after 2am this morning, got to sleep about 3am and woke up about 8.30am(ish).  Why? Well I was a-rocking and a-rolling in London.  So today has been doing exciting things, like shopping in Sainsbury's and, erm, buying vacuum cleaners!  How rock and roll am I?

But last night was the Garage in Islington, so here are some photos and a few comments from the night.  Just wanted to prove that whilst chemotherapy is not fun, if you are sensible you can still have a life.

So ,allow me introduce you, from left to right, Mr Jon "Twang" Patrick of House Of Progression, his partner in crime, Mr Geoff Banks and my lovely friend and stalker, Miss Jill Lerner.  Good friends and decent people.  House Of Progression put on last night's gig, featuring Touchstone and the Von Hertzen Brothers.  A success, my friends, a success.

When I was younger, as we all were, one of my favourite bands was, and still is, Twelfth Night.  The Ceiling Speaks from their Live And Let Live album still sends shivers up my spine.  So this photo of my friend Clive Mitten AKA Major Clanger talking to Twang fills me with pride to know these lovely people.

And to compliment the previous picture, the wonderful Lady C, Angela Gibbins AKA Mrs Mitten, again with Twang (honestly, how many photos is he in?).  The lovely people help to keep my spirits up.

Ah, this is Mr Roger Marsh, gainfully employed by Fraser and Fraser of Heir Hunters fame.  Always good to see Roger.  And behind him are

from left to right, Mr Chris Foskett, Mr Kevin Blackett and Mr Grant Meaby!  Proof that not only are you never too old to rock and roll, but growing old gracefully is such a waste of time!  Life would be so dull without the mad and wonderful people in it,

Ah, Mr Rob Ramsay, lyricist and "spoken word part" performer for Tinyfish.  He understands the importance of a semi-colon.  Goodness, he beat me to that joke before I could mention it.  Nice one sir!

Ah, ladies and germs, the wonderful Sarah Worsley, who has promised she will run the London Marathon in 2015.  The moral of the story is, don't take the piss out Jerry Ewing, editor of Prog magazine.

And here is Mr Jerry Ewing, for whom on this I am his right hand man, with his pet marathon runner.  I shall look forward to sponsoring her in the near future.

And finally, Miss Kim "Elkie" Seviour!  Singist and all round girl of Touchstone vamping it up very well.

Thanks one and all, including those I have no snaps of, for a top evening.  Do it again soon I hope.

Jym

Oh, and thanks to Von Hertzen Brothers.  Excellent band.  Nice one chaps.

Not much of an update today.

A quick note to say I won't be writing much today.  I'm off to London in a bit to see Touchstone at The Garage.  With that in mind you can guess I have done very little so nothing to talk about.

I'm feeling okay else I'd stay at home, but I shall update properly tomorrow, hopefully with a collection of photos.

So fret not, back tomorrow.

Jym

Oh, and nothing to see here.  Move along!  Move along!

A boring update for a boring day.

There's a level of laziness that comes over you when you are sick.  Same, well I find, during sick leave.  At the moment it is not helped by people saying things like "take it easy" or "no heavy lifting" or stop hoovering.  Add to that the malaise that come from being ill and going through chemotherapy, you start looking for things to do.

Imagine therefore how annoyed I am that I can't play my guitar properly.  With the ever so useful, but slightly uncomfortable, PICC line in my arm it's difficult to bend and I can't play the damned thing.  Also, my mandolin, but that's because the strings hurt my hands.  Maybe I should finally learn the keyboards, but that would involve having one (of course if anybody would like to give me a Korg Kronos or Roland Fantom I might be tempted to accept).  So alternate activities are required.

Someone will suggest reading, but I already do that.  Watching TV, oh dear no!  Homes Under The Hammer (yikes), Escape To The Country (please do, and get yourself caught in a cattle stampede) or the most evil of all, The Jeremy Kyle Show (about which there is not enough bile to spill in the whole history of the world).  DVDs?  Okay, if you insist.

Basically, I am bored some days.  But today, I wasn't bored.  No, today I finally caught up on my lost sleep.  Sadly I woke up to find Bargain Hunt on the TV.  Scary stuff.  Thus my Thursday has been one of doing nothing.  I had lunch, ooh exciting.  I went in to Eastbourne, bought a laser printer and wrote this nonsense.  Why is it easier to write about nothing than the interesting stuff?

But on a plus side, I feel well.  Not 100%, obviously with cytotoxins in the system, but not far off.  Too early to know about side effects, but with any luck I won't have them.  Last time I dodged that bullet, so I hope to do some dodging again.

But, to make up for the lack of interesting stuff, click the link above.  It still makes me laugh.

Jym

Oh, and hopefully I'll see some of you in London on Friday.

I shall draw the day to a close

Today has  been easy.  But I was tired this morning.  The evening round of pills has been taken and it's time to sleep.

I feel mostly okay, but not "normal" is the best thing to say.  Not sick, just off somehow.  But with a lot of poisons in the system, hopefully killing cancer cells, that's not surprising.  It;s early in this cycle of chemo.  It can be split into two sections, the first day with the intravenous drugs followed by tablets for the rest.  That'll be the routine of pills until the next day of liquid hell.  Until it's finished and the drugs leave the system it will get no better than this.

So, if you don't mind, I'll sign off there and hit the sack.

Night all.

Jym

Oh, and sleep tight.  Don't let the bed bugs bite.

Breakfast of champions

It's the morning after chemo started.  Most people are probably aware that chemotherapy is a combination of drugs, in my case it's intravenous and tablets.  I wrote yesterday about the TTOs, Tablets to Take Out, so I with that in mind I thought you'd like to see them.

There is a total of 238 tablets there.  You're thinking that's a lot of pills, well you are right.  Especially as this is for three weeks.  Twice a day for 21 days this is the breakfast and dinner of champions.  There are four types of drugs on that table, three are anti-sickness and anti-diarrhea drugs.  The rest, a total of  168 tables, of which I'll have to four in the morning and four in the evenings are called Xeloda, the commercial name of Capecitabine (Macmillan link here).  It is a chemo drug, the correct name for these types of drugs is cytotoxins.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my breakfast of champions.  Poisons for breakfast, poisons for tea.

Jym

Oh, and I'll try and write some more later.

I want to write...

...but I'm not really there.

Whilst people in the UK were tucking into their lunch I was having parts of my body frozen to -5 degrees centigrade and having grade 'A' poisons flushed through my body.  Half a litre of Epirubicin (Macmillan link here), a litre of Cisplatin (Macmillan link here) in an astounding two and a half hours!  150 minutes.  That is what I was doing.  Hope you enjoyed your lunch, I really did not enjoy mine.

Afterwards I felt better but at one point, and I am not afraid to say it, I damned near lost it during the treatment.  I came so close to tears it took everything to not break down in the middle of the ward.  In the last two months there have been occasions when I've felt like that, but today was the closest.  And at some points over the last few days I have just felt so scared.  I am relieved today is over.  So far no problems, but only so far.  The hospital even had a specialist nurse in to take care of me today, that made me feel especially cared for.  But it doesn't ever take away the feelings inside.  More than one person has called me brave for how I am dealing with this, but I don't have an option.  I can't run away from cancer.  If I sit in a chair, the cancer is there with me.  If I go into another room, the cancer comes with me.  If I were to curl up in a ball with tears running down my cheeks to hide from it, cancer would be there in that ball.  It wouldn't care about the tears and wouldn't care that I was trying to hide.

Either way, I am home.  I have eaten.  I had a very small incidence of nausea, felt a little sick but it may be because I missed breakfast and no lunch.  It's nice to be home, I was only in hospital for a few house, but I really don't want to be.  I'm feeling lonely, but until tomorrow I can't do anything.

Tomorrow, it's the drugs at home, what are called TTO.  Tablets to Take Out (I kid you not).  I'll post a photo later, probably tomorrow, so you can see what I have to take, my chemo-take-away if you will.  In the meantime, I need to just switch off and feel the poisons in my blood.  Hopefully, sleep will come and there will be no tears.

Jym

Oh, and today was not a bad day.  It was as good as it could be.  A day to feel blessed.

Fingers crossed

Hopefully I'll write something more today.  But, it's chemo day.  Fingers crossed I'll be in a writing mood later, but if not...

Really never thought I'd be here again.

This has been hard to write.

Okay, Jym, back up.  That's the end of this blog entry.  It's not as bad as you think.  And I'll explain why.

Last night I went to Brighton and caught up with my friend Mel.  She's just moved there and to be honest I needed a night out.  Perfect.  The intention was to catch some music, sadly that didn't happen but much gibbering nonsensical conversation did.  I needed that,  So here is a picture I took of the lovely Mel in the Prince Albert underneath Brighton railway station.  Good pub and they have some excellent bands play there.

The lovely Mel who is not my wife.

Cheers Mel.  Needed last night.  Oddly she was once accused by the nurses at Eastbourne DGH of being my wife.  Yep, she should be so lucky!  (Cue Mel not talking to me.)

Now today was the first real hospital day where they did something.  And that was insert the PICC line.  What is a PICC line you ask?  (And even if you didn't ask, I shall pretend you did, so you get no say in this.)  A PICC line is a Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter.  Basically, it is a line that is inserted into the arm then goes into the body and is used for both giving drugs and also taking blood.  Here's the Macmillan page on PICC lines, if you want to read it.

Thing went in a dream, thankfully.  Took minutes to insert the line, a little painful but not too bad.  PICC lines are not used in every case and in 2010 I didn't have one.  This time I agreed it was a good idea with Joyce, my Macmillan nurse, before I even met the oncology staff.  I had so much damage to veins last time it makes life a lot easier.  After insertion there is an x-ray, this allows the medical team to confirm the thing is in place.  Spot on first time, so Tina and Joe who placed the line, a serious thank you for your excellent work.  Once it was placed I gave my first blood sample.  The amount of blood you give during chemo is astounding, but this was a baseline sample.  But, and wait for this, I wasn't allowed to leave until I'd had a sandwich and a cup of tea.  Why?  Well, not because I needed to build up the system or to replace lost calories.  No, it was because I'd earned by being a "model patient."  (Advice, here.  Do what they nurses ask and life is so much easier,)

Then a trip into town to buy a hot water bottle (in case of swelling on the arm, you put a hot water bottle on it to soothe the area) and a plastic sleeve to cover the PICC line when I shower.

Now, you're thinking, "Jym, you've written quite a bit!  How could it have been hard to write?"

Here's the answer.  I'm a left-hander and the line had to go into the left arm.  It's a little restrictive on movement, my arm doesn't bend properly  And for those of you who looked at the Macmillan link, here's what mine looks like.  I won't show it all, there is some blood and I don't want to upset people.  But it looks like this.

The line with gauze over it.

The end of the line!  (Boom!  Boom!)

So, when I said it was hard to right, that's why.  The line is in place and everything is go for tomorrow and the chemo.  Now that may be hard to write about.

Jym

Oh, the guys at work have pumpkins and are also running the New York marathon for the local hospice.  Here's photos of the pumpkin and the sign on the reception desk.

Until tomorrow.  Fingers crossed, eh?  And if you want to contact me, use the box on the right hand side.

Ground rules

So far today I have done nothing.  But I am supposed to going out this evening, so probably won't get time to write later.  Of course I have nothing really to write about from today.

A few people have told me they find this blog to be informative.  I hope it is, it was an intention of mine and a form of release.  Hey, not everyone is on Facebook, so it has to be a separate entity.  It also allows me to keep in touch with people and them to keep in touch with me, if they want of course.  But first an old photo.

Ignore the setting (well, blindfold) and let me explain.  This was taken during, I think, my fourth round of chemo in 2010.  The reason I've posted it is to show my beard, which apart from being whispy also had bald patches.  The hat was a necessity.  And this brings me onto the ground rules.

See, I will get ratty and angry with people during the chemotherapy.  It's not nice and what you  can see in this photo is an effect of the drugs.  I kept most of my hair but did lose some and my beard stopped growing and has bald patches.  This is why I want to lay down a few ground rules, but not in a malicious way.  Just so you know that there will be bad days.

So,here are some ground rules.

Please remember, if I don't want to talk about something illness related, don't push on it.  Mostly I will but cancer and its treatment are deeply personal.  There will be instances where I will back off.

Please don't ask me how I am?  As of now all days are either good or bad.  You can't say "I'm well" because you are not.  It's all degrees of sickness and with the chemo being vicious days are either good or bad.

I won't be able to forward plan for a while.  Every day is played by ear, so until this is over I don't know what I'm doing.  You can't, therefore, rely on me somedays.  Don't take it personally.

There will be some physical changes aside from hair.  I may lose my sense of taste and I did lose some skin from my hands.  There may be others.  They'll be temporary, but just be aware of them, okay.

Finally, this can be very lonely.  So please, don't be strangers but don't overwhelm me.

In the meantime, line tomorrow, which I will write about then hell on Earth from Tuesday.  All a bit nerve-wracking, but been here before.

Jym

Oh, and I have these!

Yes, lots of jelly beans!

I'm going in and I may be some time!

Just to say...

...if I've offended anyone today, I'm sorry.

Today I did nothing.  Not sure why, but I did nothing.  Maybe it's a mood thing.  Okay, yes something happened in the last couple of days, not that I want to talk about it, yet.  But it's put me off a bit.

The trouble is, when you have cancer like mine, you can't feel.  You can't taste it.  See it, hear it or smell it.  You don't know how you are and you don't know what is going to happen.  Try thinking about this, you can't plan when you don't know how you're going to be in a years time.  Even if you'll be here in a years time.

Yes, morbid.  But tomorrow and what is left of the day are the last days of 2013 that can be filed under the word "normal".  Monday, whilst not a chemo day, is the prep day for the poison.  The fun is Tuesday.  And with that in mind, I've ended up in this odd mood.  On a plus, I'm not at work this weekend.  I had planned to take it off, not because I wanted to do something but because this weekend is murderously busy.  So silver lining with not working.  But I digress.

I'm not on a downer, not sad or depressed.  Maybe a little miserable, possibly just annoyed, but not down.  Not even angry.  Just...something.  Here is my hope, that in 10 years time I look back on this as an unhappy episode of my life and that I can forget it.  But that's the future, hopefully.  Right now, it is just today, tomorrow, Monday, poison.  And with any luck there will be a future.

I'll write more tomorrow.  In the meantime it is bonfire night in Hailsham.  I'll explain about that later.

Ciao for now.

Jym

Oh, and this...

...because I get the feeling that "not a good day" may become the norm very soon and for a long while.

TGI Friday?

There was very little I like about Fridays.  Used to be the beginning of my working week so it was never looked forward to.  But not now.  Well aside from being on sick leave, as I have been for the last two months or so, but my rota rolls thus not a big deal now.  But there is something that still confuses me that does happen on Friday and it is this.  The Eastbourne Herald comes out.

Let me explain.  I actually don't live in Eastbourne but just outside in a town called Hailsham.  If you don't know the place, look it up.  Actually, don't, it is horrible.  But I work in Eastbourne, have lots of friends in Eastbourne and shop in Eastbourne.  And it has a pier.

The pier, obviously.

Now, the local paper for Hailsham comes out on a Tuesday and is essentially the same as the Eastbourne local that is published on the same day.  Thus on a Friday people also buy the Eastbourne local that comes out the same day.  With that in mind, I thought I'd share the front page story with you.  With strikes in schools, closures at the DGH and, I am sure, a plethora of other events occurring locally, here is today's!

Important local news!

Words fail me!  But this is genuinely the lead story today.  I'll let you make up your own minds on this.

I have to confess, I am getting a little nervous about the chemotherapy.  Partly because I don't know whether I will have any side-effects but more about the effectiveness.  Don't want to say why, but with medical professionals, well doctors, apparently not playing straight with me I am apprehensive.  The Macmillan people have been great and all the nurses are brilliant, but the specialists and consultants, well, not so much.  A lot to consider and sadly wonder about.  This weekend I shall ponder, consider, think, then swallow it all and get on with it.  My last weekend before poisoning begins.  We shall see what we shall see.

Enjoy Friday, mes amis!

Jym

Oh, and here is a picture of my mate Jack studying International Relations theory.

See, he does work!

Good to see a friend I can talk to who has similar academic interests.  Cheers mate for the chat this afternoon.

Eventide

It's evening and I am trying to think about writing this.

Odd, I look back on the day and I've done nothing.  Okay, I posted a photo from Dr Who, went into the town of Eastbourne and strolled along the seafront.  But that's it really.  What a life.

It is very difficult to forward plan when you're on sick leave and waiting for treatment.  Can't really do much, without the chemotherapy I would still have to take three months off.  Standard thanks to having a rather large group of muscles cut in half and internal organs moved about.  With chemotherapy kicking off on Tuesday, it'll be nice to know what is going on and, judging from how I feel, actually be able to do something.  Stupid, isn't it.  I feel fine and waiting to get poisoned before I can do thinks.  Colour me stupid on that one, if you like.

I didn't bother to sort anything in the house, member(s) of the family unexpectedly at home really doesn't help.  Can't even listen to music.  My day, therefore has been a non-starter.  With that in mind, I'll find something interesting tomorrow and (probably) bored you all to tears.  Signing off for now.

Jym

Oh, and do keep in touch.  Nice to have people to talk to.

Sadly, not my Doctors.

I just wanted to share this photo.  Cool or what?

♫♪♫ It's Wednesday again ♫♪♫ [to the tune of Supertamp's "It's Raining Again"]

Ooh, I am bored.

How bored?  I started cleaning the house.  I am tidying up my room and getting back on with sorting out the back room.  Here's the thing.  I have nothing to do.

This is one of the problems of living near Eastbourne.  Nothing happens here.  Well unless you like watching old people failing to drive.  Or park.  But today I noticed something about Eastbourne's old people that had never occurred to me before that trumped the pensioners genuinely awful lack of road skills.

Now I have over the years become a bit of an anti-smoker.  The reason, well chemotherapy three years ago in Brighton.  All the lovely poisoning took place at the Royal Sussex as an in-patient, in the Howard ward, on the ground floor at the front of the building, in the summer.  (Yes, very interesting Jym, get on with it)  Note, not the illness, the treatment.  Because when I went through it, it was hot and the windows were open onto the small car park out the front where people used to smoke in front of a cancer ward whilst paying for the parking tickets.  Of course the smokers doing this were actively ignoring all the "no smoking" signs and the added stink of carcinogens wafting in through the window, well you can imagine some of the choice and rather ripe terms I came up for these unloveable selfless people.  Thanks for sharing.  The result, I hate smoking.

(Yes Jym, we get the message.  What's this to do with old people?)

Since the no smoking law came in people smoke outdoors.  (Yes, we know.  Unless we don't.  Look get on with it!)  I personally think there should be areas where you cannot smoke outside.  For example a certain distance from doorways, especially pubs and other licensed premises.  Certain parts of town centres being another example.  You get the gist.  Nothing annoys me more, especially now, and it'll get worse as the chemo treatment goes on, when people happily walk along the road and share their tobacco smoke with me.  So nice of them, by the way, but I'd prefer they shared the contents of their bank accounts instead.

(Old people Jym, old people!  Get to the old people, waffle boy.)

So what's this got to do with old people?  (At last, honestly!)  What I noticed was how many people in at least their 70s smoke in Eastbourne.  Once upon a time you never saw geriatrics smoking.  Maybe they quit or more likely they all died.  The occasional oldie, but not many.  Today, I swear, I saw at least a dozen.  No more blue rinse hairdos, now it is Marlboro Red and a pension book.  What a fantastic role model!  Trouble is, you can't run up to them and ask these people to stop.  The conversation would go something like this.

Me:  "Please stop smoking, old person.

OAP:  "I'm sorry dear, my hearing aid is turned off"  [OAP turns on hearing aid]

Me:  "Stop that smoking."

OAP:  "How dare you!  I died in the war for you."

Me:  "But you're still alive."

OAP:  "And smoking, you young whipper-snapper, now be off before I beat you with my Zimmer frame."  [OAP starts waving Zimmer frame in the air much like a weapon]

[Jym exits stage left pursued by bear, sorry, pensioner]

Suddenly staying at home cleaning and sorting things out seems like a better thing to do.

Jym

Oh, and please, share this if you like.  I hope you enjoy reading it.  Apologies to my smoking friends.

Oceans Of Time

Some of you may recognise the title of this post as sharing its name with the new album by British prog band Touchstone.  Why is that? you may be thinking.  A number of reasons is the answer, allow me to explain.

Finally, this morning, this rather excellent CD arrived on my doorstep with the result it has become my musical backing of the day.  I have a soft spot for this band, they are fantastic people.  All of them.  They are a superb live act and last time I went through cancer and associated evils, well treatment, they gave a damn and a half about somebody they didn't really know.  Namely me.  Do I have a soft spot for them as a result?  You bet I do.  And that is in addition to liking what they do.  But that isn't the only reason for the title.

When I was thinking about today's blog I drew a blank.  What do I write about?  Then it came to me.  Waiting.

You what, Jym?  Waiting?  What you talking about you mad man.  Well, read on.

You hear the word "cancer" and what is your reaction?  Probably to freak out.  Oh no, I'm going to die, quick do something.  Faster, do something now!  Why am I waiting, what is going on?

And then, with any luck, you realise that you are sick and you are not going to die in the next few seconds.  Hopefully you'll calm down and get a grip.  Maybe you'll make an assessment of your circumstances before the most odd discovery of all.  Cancer treatment is boring.

When the new tumour was found in me back on the 2nd of September the decision was made to initially remove it the same day.  Had it all gone according to the original plan the tumour would have been removed within a matter of hours of being found and me being told.  This is unusual.  But, as is always the way, the tumour was removed on the 3rd. And there it is.  I spent 24 hours waiting for it to be removed.  Waiting.  And then I am waiting to recover.  Then I am waiting to find out what happens next.  If you follow me on Facebook you'll remember that phrase, "waiting to find out what happens next" appeared a lot.  Of course I found out, chemotherapy!  But chemo will not happen until at least 6 weeks after surgery.  That six weeks was today, but now I have to wait another week.

And that is the truth.  You wait.  You wait for the next step in treatment.  And next week, when the chemo starts, that will involve waiting for several hours while I am poisoned.  Then months of chemotherapy, with waits in between sessions.  Then waiting for tests and scans and recovering from it all.  And that's what it really is.  Cancer treatment is waiting and that can be so boring.

Ah, Jym, how did you get to all this from a Touchstone album title?  Well, it boils down to an observation.  We all think we have all the time in the world but when we get ill, the time vanishes.  For the next few months, I have time.  If all goes well I will have even more time.  Lots of it, buckets of it and, dare I say it, oceans.  And to get there, it takes time.  And I have to wait a week to start killing this vile illness, hopefully once and for all.  That's all I've got to say for today.  Until tomorrow, peace!  Out!

Jym

Oh, and sorry for no pictures.  Me camera battery was flat, somehow.  I blame Nick Clegg.

A visit to the (very friendly) poisoners lair

Most people, and with any luck you will be one of those, will never visit the an oncology department.  And if you do visit one of these place, fingers crossed you will be a visitor and not a patient.  Me, I don't have that opportunity.

Today was my first visit to the Pevensey Ward at Eastbourne DGH.  Last time I went through chemotherapy it was in Brighton at the Royal Sussex County Hospital.  Nice staff but a bizarrely horrible ward.  Like being in a Victorian prison with linoleum floors from a 1960's local government office.  This is much nicer, but I'll leave that for future blogging.

The purpose of the visit is an information session, not treatment.  Basically you meet the nurses, they meet you, they explain what is what and find out what you need.  Unlike most patients, I've been through this before.  Makes life easier, but things have changed since I went through it all in 2010.  All of this, regardless of how well you know it, has to be explained before you sign the consent.  Now some of you may want me to go into details of the drugs but I'll do that in another update.  Partly because I want to phrase it well to explain things, but truthfully because I can't be bothered right now when I want to talk about other stuff.

Oncology units are surprisingly cheery places.  You'd never think it, but they are, and the Pevensey Ward is no exception.  It is not a place to have a downbeat attitude, instead it is a place where people are trying to save lives.  Though the drugs are nasty their purpose is to kill cancer and killing cancer is a brilliant idea.  Well I think so, not that I'm biased of course.  No, no bias.  At all.  Even the staff have an upbeat attitude.  Surprised?  Don't be.

Thus today I met Theresa who is the Sister for day patients and she got to meet me.  We discussed the treatment, this means side effects and how the drugs are given.  Then signing consent forms before being given the paperwork.  Some of it I had, some is new.  Blood work papers, there will be regular blood tests and this is the forms for the labs.  Makes it quicker to be processed and the phlebotomists know what tests are needed.   Also, I was given forms to assess side effects, lovely stuff.  And then the wallet cards, a HEAT card, my new Blue Card and funkiest of all, a parking permit.  No charges for parking, thankfully.  I'll explain the cards in another update, so bide with me.

Finally, it is time to arrange when things kick off properly.  So here is the timetable.

Next Monday (21st October) - I am having a PIC line installed.  When I have it put in I will explain more.

Tuesday (22nd October) - It begins.  And so will the fun and games.

And then I'm done.  Time to leave, not having to pay for parking, and on with my day.  Sure there are things I've not talked about here, but I will.  Until then, keep the faith.

Jym

Oh, and any spelling, grammatical or other mistakes are my own.  And I don't care!

And so I begin again.

Yikes.  Never thought I'd be back here.

Three and a half years ago, as of the time of writing, I was diagnosed with cancer.  Not something I would recommend you should do, but it happened.  I did blog at the time, but deleted.

Well, I'm back under the cosh of the most annoying illness in the world.  After the shock of being diagnosed with a relapse.  Stomach cancer is not fun, but with it reoccurring in another part of the body and the emergency surgery to remove the latest growth, it is less fun.   Seems a good time to start blogging again, if you ask.

Not much to really say.  It's Sunday, October 13th 2013.  Tomorrow is Monday 14th October and I get to meet the people who will be my poisoners this time around.  This will be my account of what chemotherapy is like, what I do, the things that happen, how I am and, most of all, what chemotherapy does to someone like me.

Some days I may post very little.  Some days I may post lots.  Some days it may be pictures.  If I miss a day, shout at me.  It will be irreverent.  It may be offensive.  It may be funny.  But it will be mine.

Wish me luck.

Jym

Oh, and if you want to ask or say anything, go ahead.  That's what the comment box is for.