The Latest ...

Waitings rooms are not good places, and it is fair to say that Mary and I sat in the Cancer Unit feeling about as comfortable as Heather Mills at a Beatles convention. The news really isn't great, although there are a few positives. The postives are that the tumours on my lungs have decreased in size very slightly and that my liver is also clear. However, the main tumours in my pelvis have been untouched by the chemo. More worrying is the fact that my CEA level is much higher than expected and high enough to cause the oncologist concern. The CEA test measures the level of activity of the disease and so it is reasonable to assume that things are kicking off a bit, and that it is going to take much stronger chemo to contain it. That said, we are going to continue with the current regime (and the painkillers) until either things get too painful, or the tumours spread. At that point, I will go onto the 'combination chemo' which, sadly, is almost inevitably going to cause me problems.

So, what to pray for, for those of you who believe in it? I really want this chemo that I am continuing with to suppress the disease for a good few months. This is unlikely due to my CEA level, but then I guess that's why we are praying for it. If I can get through the summer before they bring out the 'big guns' then there will be a new deputy in place at school, and I am going to feel a lot better when I have to leave work during the treatment (which is likely).

The oncologist asked which parts of life I would want to reserve energy for, in the event of going onto the new treatment. I think he anticipated my reply about being able to get out and about with the family and I am sure he was waiting for me to refer to 'managing to work part-time.' However, he looked bemused when I added, " ... doing poetry readings and getting to Betty's tearoom." Each to their own.

And so I leave you with a photo of Naomi and I taken last summer ... a reminder that we, as a family, have been saved from horribly bleak circumstances in the past (see A Decade Of Naomi, posted on 21.6.07).

Two Poems, Not About Illness!

Brace yourselves for a change in topic ... two poems on the subject of travelling with eyes shut, one about Joel and one about me. You'll be glad to know that the journey during which I travelled with my eyes shut didn't involve me driving...

Tuesday is the big consultation at the hospital ... scan results that will show the effects, if any, of the chemo. I will post an update later this week.

Thanks for checking the blog. Hope you like these ...





Eyes Shut On A Fast Train


Passing open fields,
a wash of sunset soaking
through, bathing my eyes.

Trees, bridges, pylons.
The neon starts to flicker.
A loose connection?

Buildings gather round.
Black sticks beat a fast rhythm.
A pulse starts to race.

A tunnel. (So soon?)
Dark. The staircase to bed. The
last glimpse of a film.





Shadows

Sliding from the dashboard
over your legs, waist, chest.
Hands can’t swat or trap
the black ghosts
rushing for your face.
They won’t hurt me!
Won’t hurt me!

Trying to peel them off
you haul the zip beneath your chin.
But they'll only find your jumper,
T-shirt,
skin.

You strain against the seatbelt,
jerking at every black burst
on clenched eyelids
until, at last, a queue lets me reach
for the travel blind.

Go to sleep,
because our direction will change;
the sun is moving round.

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