One Of Those Days ...

Days like this arrive from time to time. It got off to a bad start when I just nipped into school for 20 minutes before heading off to the hopsital for the second last chemo infusion. Whenever I mentor new headteacher I always give the warning "Beware any letter with a handwritten address on the envelope." Of course, there was one waiting for me ... A very angry parent demanding that one of my staff apologise to her child for a list of alleged offences. Of course, none of them were true! It is the slow lesson that can take parents years to understand ... sometimes, children exaggerate, and (steady ... ) don't tell the whole truth. I suppose we all have rose-tinted glasses when it comes to our children. I remember teaching a boy in the early 90s who, if he had been any slower, would have been getting watered twice a week. When I suggested to his mum that he was struggling with learning she just said, "Don't let him fool you ..." Hmmmm

Anyway, even worse was the news on arrival at York District Hospital that my Consultant wanted to see me straight away. My CEA level (tumour marker) has tripled in the last three weeks and is now at the all time high of 224. In a nut shell, the Consultant suspects that the disease is now successfully dominating the chemo. An urgent scan has been requested and it looks likely that I will be transferred to another chemo regime (a worse one ...) that has to be given in Leeds. Any problems will necessitate an admission to hospital in Leeds also, as York is not set up to cope with the sort of problems this regime can cause. So there we go - difficult territory. For those of you who are pray-ers, the big hope is that my CEA level plummets over the next three weeks. I was hospital last week for 4 days with an infection and it is JUST possible (though unlikely) that this has caused the hike in the CEA level. Anyway, certainly worth praying for.

As I left the hopsital, dosed to the nines with chemo, calcium, magnesium and glucose, I managed to settle on the fact that things could still be worse. It was then that I saw the parking ticket on my car windscreen ...

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Three-Quarters Through

Just a quick blog ... I have just reached the 3/4 point of the treatment. Things are still okay on the whole. I am working full time and coping so far; in fact school seems quiet, too quiet! Last year I became the first Headteacher in the city to have had his Harvest Festival sale of produce picketed by a group of parents, because it was raising money for Unicef and as we all know charity begins at home! This year, however, we raised £90 for the Seeds For Africa appeal. Hmmm. Acceptance at last? Anyway, day to day life is pretty normal on the whole. Martha has been playing a few concerts with the Ayrshire Fiddlers, one of which was at a village ceilidh. It was a full affair, with children dancing up and down the hall. Joel, predictably, was in his element. Unfortunatley his frantic impromptu movement continued during the slow lament written to commemorate the death of a lifeboat crew in the Pentland Firth. People were very forgiving.

In terms of my general health, the only problem I have is with my left side. It has felt for some time that I am nursing what feels like a torn ligament or muscular strain at the top of my leg. However, it turns out I have a bone tumour high on my pelvic bone, and that this has begun to interfere with the soft tissue around it. A bit sobering. On good days I can walk slowly and reasonably normally. On bad days I am genuinely considering swallowing my pride and getting a stick. It comes and goes, but I am back on the painkillers I'm afraid. Let's hope the last two chemo doses do something to reduce the bulk. My other problem areas are still feeling much better. I will leave you with a couple of photos of the weanes.

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