Joel

Smoke On The Water

You are wrapped in a fog
that your cold days can’t disperse.
Words huddle together
and burrow through,
arriving soggy,
sliding across your shell
like my hand through your hair -
unnoticed, leaving a trail
that the breeze will erase
as it shakes the night’s weave
of knots and tugs.

But today we hold hands and dance,
jumping as Ritchie’s guitar riff
shakes the windows,
laughter spilling from your open throat.
While the band search for Lake Geneva through smoke,
we crouch beneath the billows,
playing in shallows
as cool and clear
as rain.


For Joel

Here We Go, Here We Go, Here We Go

Well, what a great night I’ve just had! I went to Manchester for the first gig of The Willard Grant Conspiracy’s tour. A great event. Afterwards, my arrival at the railway station coincided with that of about 3000 Rangers fans. On platform 3 I joined a group of about four hundred, all of whom were waiting for the 22.42 to York. Sadly, as it arrived, they got there first and sardined themselves into every carriage. Do you know, I’m not sure that all of them had a ticket! However, despite the fact that I had my seat reservation in my pocket, I thought it best not to issue a challenge …
This happened again at 23.19! Thankfully at 23.52 I managed to get to a carriage early, due to a sudden change of platform; I even got a seat. Once the next batch of football fans had pressed themselves into every available centimetre of the train, we eventually left. In a carriage awash with hot breath, eau de armpit and cider, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the next ninety minutes. However, some lovely community singing broke out almost immediately. There were several songs although lyrically, the themes were quite limited … someone called ‘Pope’ (must be the poet …) was being given some quite frank advice and there were also some kind offers of food to a man called Bobby Sands. Now, for some people, endless hoarse, raucous bellowing and ranting would be a nightmare. Luckily for me, our regular church pew on a Sunday is quite near the choir and so I quickly found that merely closing my eyes made me feel closer to home.

On a serious note, I met with the consultant earlier in the week and I am starting the ‘big guns’ chemo on Wednesday 28th May. It is going to be tough, I fear, but Mary and I are going to try very hard to keep a veneer of normality for the sake of the children. Prayers to this effect, and for me to ‘get away lightly’ with side effects, would be greatly appreciated. The side effects are many and not pleasant, although I will be pointing out to my brothers this weekend that, although I am the first of us to undergo reasonably extensive hair thinning, there still isn’t a grey hair in my head! They are beginning to look as if they are attending an Alistair Darling Convention.

Thanks for visiting the blog and for your support and encouragement. I will, of course, update again when the chemo starts.

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Mixed News

Well, it's mixed news once again. On the positive side, tumours in my lungs appear slightly smaller. On the negative side, the main tumour in my pelvis is larger. The consultant has decided that my current regime has run its course and will be of no further benefit. So, I will be going onto the next 'combination' regime, which is much stronger, as and when there is any further growth in the pelvis. I am back in five weeks to have this checked out. If the pelvic tumour stays as it is, then I will stay off the chemo for now. However, as soon as it changes ... on I go. It is probably worth me upping my gym attendance to try and get as fit as possible in the hope that I might tolerate the new regime more than the doctor anticipates. He thinks it might help.

Mary and I are absorbing this latest news and in the meantime are getting on with things as normal. Little choice really. I have had a radically short haircut so that my children ( at home and at school)get used to me having next to no hair well in advance of the treatment. I think it's safe to say that my daughters hate it! (I'm willing to guess you don't like it either, mum ...) So I guess the next step is to leave photos of Right Said Fred about the house. (Martha stopped me on the stairs the other day as I jogged heartily down wearing shorts and sports vest, on my way to the gym. She eyed me for a moment and said, "I need to tell you dad ... that isn't a good look." Oooooh, she's such a tease!)

Thanks for visiting the blog. Stay in touch.

Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out.

I am interviewing for a new Deputy Headteacher on May 2nd and it is an important appointment for obvious reasons. We spent £920 on a national advert and had an astonishing thirty applications! The applicants came to look round, well-versed in the school's recent(highly successful!)Ofsted report and saying very kind things about it. So I am there - talking earnestly, brow furrowed, being modest, explaining the school's vision for future development - and this requires me to bring the small group to my computer to see next year's School Improvement Plan. Now ... the day before, I had changed my screensaver to the one which sends random photographs from the computer slowly across the screen. I was aware of the group staring silently at the computer as I was trying to explain our bid for new Foundation Stage outdoor provision;not one of them seemed to be listening! "Hmmm," I mused. "This lot aren't making the best impression on me!" I turned and followed their gaze. Oh how sad I was to see the screen filled with the photo of Mary and I on 'Children In Need' day, Mary dressed as Maria Von Trapp and me dressed as the Mother Superior. So, I quickly and forcefully said, "Yes, and we like to raise funds for charity ... "
What do you think? Have I got away with it?

Scan results and CEA results on Tuesday. Will Blog again next week.

Update ...

Well, there are new hurdles I'm afraid. My blood test that came back on Wednesday has shown that my CEA level, which had doubled between January and March, has doubled again. It was 17 when I was first diagnosed but is now 100. Not good. The oncologist is holding off putting me on heavy chemo for another three weeks, during which I will be scanned because he is concerned that it is all kicking off (my phrase, not his). I will also have more blood tests at that point. Wouldn't it be good if my scan showed stability and my blood tests revealed a decreasing CEA level? (... prayer hint) I feel okay at the moment - pain levels increasing a little but I am not on the full quota of painkillers yet and day to day life is normal.

Unfortunately, a girl at Martha's school who is in Martha's year has just lost her mum to liver cancer. The penny has dropped with Martha that these things do happen and we have had a few troubled conversations. It is very difficult, trying not to be evasive but also trying to shield her, at least for the moment, from the raw facts. If I go onto the heavier chemo and end up looking like Keith Richards' older brother we might just have to be a little more open about things. Naomi, thankfully, is too caught up with Andrew Lloyd Webber's search for the new Nancy and Oliver to notice much at the moment. As for Joel ... as long as he has Shreddies and Thomas The Tank Engine in his life, everything is okay.

On a positive note, I am off to London tonight to read poetry and I have another reading next weekend up her in Pocklington. It's a great distraction for me, and I love doing them. And, what with a couple of meetings at Betty's tearoom already in the diary for next week, life is looking a bit brighter!

I will let you know the scan results. Thanks for visiting the blog.

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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