Quick Update

I want it to be known that my school did not close due to snow … sadly. There was huffing, tantruming, tears, and shouts of ‘That’s not fair!’ … from the staff … but we remained open nevertheless. Half term beckons at the end of this week so suddenly all seems well again.

Mary and I have been through the mill a little since last we spoke. I became unwell quite quickly a couple of weeks ago … tiredness, temperatures and pain levels doubling. More worryingly, I have been losing weight and I could feel almost daily changes to the main tumour; we were both beginning to panic. The consultant brought me straight into hospital and told us he suspected that the primary tumour had developed an abscess. Oddly enough, that brought relief all round as I was fearing the worst. Anyway, things have returned to normal now but I have just had two scans this week because they have rightly said that they need to actually see what is going on. I will get results in a couple of weeks, unless there is something dodgy going on, in which case I will get a call with ‘number withheld’ on my phone display … always a bit of a pulse quickener. As soon as I hear, I’ll let you know.

Mary and the girls are in the village panto next week (Oh yes they are!) Coincidentally, Joel and I are off to Scotland this weekend for a few days of bonding. Anything could happen … I’ll post the photos when we get back.

An Audience With ...

God forbid I should ever suggest that the community my school serves is inward looking, but today’s assembly had me a little concerned. I stood there, clutching the story of Rosa Parks, and my question began like this:
“Children, today is a really important day, for one country in particular but perhaps for much of the world. It’s a day that will be remembered and talked about for many, many years to come … what do you think I’m referring to?”
The answer was swift:
“Is it the new athletics club starting at the secondary school?”
So there you are – step aside Obama, because I have to practise my hurdling.

I had a consultation with the senior-consultant last week. It was a bit like getting an audience with the Pope but the consultant was dressed a bit more casually and I didn’t have to kiss his hand. There was mixed news, as always. The darker news is that, having checked my scan and found that the cluster of bone tumours is close to the site of my previous radiotherapy, he isn’t confident that another dose will do much good. He has said that if things progress, he may well consider the final regime of chemo. I would just love to avoid this. Anyway, I am being scanned in a couple of weeks and he will deliver the verdict late in February. If there isn’t much change he might just leave me for now. On the happier side, he confirmed that to have a disappearing tumour (see previous blog) is indeed very rare. It is still ‘gone’ and in fact there is no trace of it. As he said, “Difficult to explain, but we’re not complaining.” Too true.

I see my usual consultant tomorrow. He is the one overseeing the bone-strengthening infusions. The truth is, I am tolerating the infusions really well, but my pain levels are up. The pain killers wear off at about 3am, at which point I take some more, but they don’t ‘kick in’ for an hour … and then the alarm goes off at 6.15am. So, I am walking about school looking like Sandy Gall at the moment.

Anyway, enough! I am one tumour less and feeling pretty good about it. I’ll let you know when the next one goes ... so keep praying until then.

Thanks again for visiting the blog.


New Year's Day

'Tis the season to be jolly ...

I have just come from the first performance of our school nativity play. All was well until the fourth song (a gentle number called ‘Sleep Little Child’) during which an argument broke out between two of the shepherds. One had noticed the other making rude gestures and felt it right to put his hand up and report the incident. However the offending shepherd was clearly reserving the right to be offensive … after all, he was doing it to HIS mum. He may well be tending sheep on a hillside far away next time. Anyway, we are winding down to a quiet end of term and all seems to have gone well. In fact, there hasn’t been a single complaint about the festivities this year and the post-concert collection was double last year’s! As one Teaching Assistant who lives locally put it, “Apparently you aren’t top of the parents’ hit list anymore.” Could the community have given me a nicer gift?

I have just had my second bone-strengthening infusion and am taking hefty doses of painkillers in readiness for the side effects. So far, I feel fine. I met with a consultant last week who looked at the whole issue of when to administer the radiotherapy and when to start the new chemo regime. The decision is to wait for now and to review the situation after Christmas. At the start of December I noticed that a tumour beneath my scar tissue, which had shrunk away during previous treatment, was in fact making a dramatic return. It came back quickly, over the period of a fortnight, which was all a bit alarming. Again, in spite of this, the consultant’s decision was to wait until it grew larger and became more problematic before tackling it with this new chemo regime as the new regime brings serious problems of its own. However, over this past week it has shrunk away again, leaving no evidence on the surface of the skin. In fact the hardness beneath the skin also seems tangibly reduced. Big relief all round and unusual to have a tumour shrink when not on any form of chemo. (Note to those of you who are pray-ers … keep going, keep going.)

So – have a great Christmas. We wish you and your families well and hope that you manage to rest and celebrate in equal measure. 2008 has been a good year for us, much better than we anticipated 12 months ago, and we are hugely grateful for your thoughts, contact, friendship and support. It has made a big difference.

Lastly, my Living Room Poetry tour is carrying right on, so I look forward to seeing you at a poetry reading in 2009. (There is a strong hint within that last statement, so I’ll await your invitations ...)

Flu

Well … there have been a few developments since last we spoke. The good news is that my kidneys, on further inspection, seem to be coping okay. I am having a renal scan tomorrow to confirm this, but hopefully the need for stents will be postponed for now. However, I started the bone strengthening injections last week and have to say that, to my surprise, the side-effects were worse than those of the chemo! As always there is a list of potential problems, but the main side effect is the onslaught of flu symptoms. Now, all women know and accept that men get flu much more severely than they do … and quite regularly too. However, even by men’s standards this wasn’t good. A lot of joint pain, which made moving around very difficult, and painkillers had to be taken during the night in order to get some sleep. That said, today things are pretty much back to normal and so all I need to do is factor this in ... plan for lazy days (no problem there) and stash up on codeine tablets. I didn’t realise until this first infusion, but I will be on these indefinitely, every four weeks. Better get used to it, I suppose.
I think I will be having the radiotherapy blast to my bones in the near future. I am seeing my doctor tomorrow and no doubt he will be able to fill me in.

At school we are on the final rush to Christmas. I can't believe it! Parties, nativities, a visiting theatre production ... complaints about parties, nativities, a visiting theatre production. Ooooh I love it!
















Futures

Allowed the privacy of a side ward
to let the doctor’s words settle,
dig in,
draw blood.

Instead, you came to mind.

The evening before High School
and we are plotting our futures,
heading home on the park’s straight path
to roomy blazers broad on hangers,
pressed shirts next to new ties.

We didn’t foresee the misty bend
on the Crieff road.
You, at 24 - gone in an instant (the police assured).
Me, now- dying in slow motion,
examining the kerb, wall, ditch
and road markings you missed,
that tore past you
as fast as childhood.

for Ian Douglas Mitchell
1964 - 1988

Which Do You Want First?

Mary and I met with our Consultant yesterday to discuss the results of the scans and blood tests. Not great news, I'm afraid, although there are certainly some positives. The bad news is that the main site of the disease (bones and soft tissue in my pelvis) has been completely untouched by 6 months of chemo. In fact there has been slight spread, which explains the high CEA levels and increased pain. Added to our sadness at this is the fact that there is now nothing more they can do to tackle the disease in that area. Also, the main tumour is pressing on the tubes that drain my kidneys and my kidneys are slightly swollen and not functioning properly. I am going to need a small op to reduce the pressure on them, probably in the next week or so.
The good news is that the small tumours on my lungs and scar tissue have gone from the scans. Great! But ... they will be back. Chemo very much reduces them but doesn't remove them completely. Nevertheless, gone for now.

So what happens next? I am to have a single dose of radiotherapy to the affected bones and some bone strengthening injections to try and lock calcium in and thus reduce the tumours' progress. I am also having two blood tests a week to monitor my kidney function. When they deteriorate to a certain level I will be whipped into hospital to have stents fitted into the said tubes, but not before I have gorged a couple of buckets of valium! The much dreaded next chemo regime will start when the tumours in my lungs and elsewhere reappear. So ... watch this space.

We are well supported up here (and of course by your good selves) so we are coping surprisingly well. Daily life is still more or less completely normal, and we are very grateful for that. Yes, even for the usual spate of irrational school parents' concerns which this week have focused on the potential drug dangers of the school 'litter pick'. Yes, even for the £60 fine and 3 points on my license for a moment of unwise overtaking on the A59 last Wednesday!

Can anyone lend me a bike?

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 ...

Thanks for visiting the blog.

web analytics stats

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.

Thanks for visiting the blog