Friday

I have a meeting with the Senior Consultant this Friday morning to discuss a scan I had last Friday. It was penciled in anyway, but a slight increase in symptoms has meant that it is timely. I have some extra pain further round the top end of my pelvis which, we all agree, needs looking into. We are keeping an open mind (well, trying to) and we'll just have to re-adjust to whatever is found. That said, we are obviously hoping and praying that things haven't progressed in any great way.

We are all well, other than this. Naomi auditioned successfully for a production of The Railway Children that is being staged by the York Theatre Royal. She did this last year and loved it, so she is very pleased! Martha is preparing (?) for her GCSE in science, which has reminded me of just how challenged I am in this area. Attempts to help her with revision have been fairly fruitless. (I remember my science teacher being disappointed, but not surprised, at my Grade E in Chemistry.) Joel is still happy going to school, which makes life much easier for us, and Mary and I are trying to follow his example.

I will update the blog with Friday's results as soon as I have them. I will also try to get a recent poem up here, so that I can feel the blog title is justified!

The Past Few Weeks

Well, the radiotherapy course came and went, all in the luxury of the new £250 million oncology Centre of Excellence in Leeds. It's a cross between an airport lounge and a shopping mall and patients wait in clusters of seats. If they sold lattes or espressos you might be tempted to turn up in shorts, towing a case. The week of treatment was difficult for various reasons. I got an infection (which floored me) and a strongly worded letter of complaint to the school (which had me leaping back up again). Such letters can really get the circulation going. Anyway, I dragged myself in on the Thursday, a meeting was had with said parents and all was well. I think the Friday of the treatment week was the high point, however. I was lying in bed at midday, temperature soaring, body aching, drifting in and out of sleep when the phone went. I decided to leave it ... nothing was that important. Then my mobile went, so I played safe. It was the alarm company, saying that they'd received the signal that the school fire alarm was going off and they were in the process of contacting the Fire Service. It's amazing how quickly you can dress ... I was fully clothed in under four seconds and that included ironing. Okay - exaggeration. I was actually falling down the stairs towards the door when the phone went again and it was my deputy confessing to having burnt the toast in the staffroom. It's an easy thing to forgive, and I went back to bed.

The weeks since the treatment have been difficult, with the draining effects of radio, further infections and of course the bone strengthening infusions which cause flu symptoms. It is demoralising, never feeling particularly well, but I feel like I am re-surfacing now. I have a bit more energy. On the positive side, my pain levels have been reduced and life is more comfortable again. I am seeing the consultant on Friday to discuss all this and I would love to think I can be left alone for a few weeks/months and get through the summer without having to have any more treatment. We'll see. The family are all well and we have enjoyed a great Easter break in Scotland with friends. (Actually, during that visit, Martha fell off a swing and hurt her foot. After four days we took her to the hospital and it turns out she has badly torn ligaments ... in my defence she is a teenager and so dragging limbs is not unusual.) We have also enjoyed Joel's eighth birthday and Mary's 40-something birthday. Joel's very funny when it's his birthday. He loves it but can't bear to be the centre of attention. I've attached some photos that demonstrate this ...

I hope you have had a good Easter. Thanks, as always, for visiting the blog.

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A Quick Note.

This is just a quick update about Friday's results. The Senior Consultant gave us about an hour of his time (is that a good thing?) and talked through the options. As always - good news and bad. The good news is that my lungs and liver are still clear. This is significant, as it is those areas that are potentially going to cause the most trouble. However, the illness has progressed in the pelvis, growing into the bone and starting the invasion of the bladder wall. So, I am going to have a five day course of radiotherapy in the near future in the hope that it will reduce the symptoms and might even cause tumour shrinkage. They are holding off on the chemo for now, and are more likely to start that when when tumours appear outside of the pelvis.

Mary and I feel okay about this. Obviously not happy at the disease's progress, but I think we were braced for something worse. We are both pleased at the delay in chemo. The girls have been in a dance performance today and yesterday so it has been nicely chaotic on that front, allowing us to get lost and distracted in sequins, tights and deadlines.(Spare me the offensive remarks ...) Joel is just enjoying the feeling of being alive, which is significant ... the music shop phoned to say that the reason my bass rig went on fire and destroyed itself has a lot to do with the fact that someone posted a 5p piece into the electrics. Bless that cuddly wee soul; butter wouldn't melt ...

The Truth Will Out ...

The first morning back to work after a break is always a bit chaotic. We had a class going off on a week’s residential trip this morning and so the hall was full of weeping mothers – some weeping out of concern and a sense of loss, other out of sheer relief. I am always amazed at the luggage that turns up, and attempts to smuggle things like hair-straighteners, Body Shop stock rooms and HUGE packed lunches into cases. (I remember on one trip I organised, a boy was being sick before we had even got on the coach! When asked if he had eaten anything on the way to school, he confessed to two pork pies and a beef jerky. Not good! ) Additionally this morning, I noticed one younger pupil arriving with a huge fake tattoo right up the back of his neck. "Like Daddy," he told me... Anyway, to cut a long story short (which I hate doing) I got the dreaded ‘Number Withheld’ call amidst all the chaos. In the recent scans my kidneys are looking enlarged again, and so I am off for a blood test this afternoon. I meet with my consultant on Friday when he will basically go through the two scans in detail and explain ‘implications.’ I confess to being uptight about this; I was put onto morphine recently but it isn’t completely sorting the problem. That said, I am not in agony and am still able to get on with life’s normal tasks, such as exploring tattoo removal on the NHS.

For those pray-ers amongst you, mats at the ready please. I will let you know how Friday goes.

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 ...)