Half-Way

Well, I am just over the half-way mark. There has been both good and bad. The bad, quite briefly, is that I get lost in the system every week. When I turn up, they are always surprised to see me and I am never on their lists. That said, they sort it out and I am given treatment. I was, this week, moved to speak to the ward manager who has promised to sort it out. There have been no scans yet, but I have seen my consultant twice and he has decided that the growth of the tumours has slowed or stopped, which is good, because they were increasing at a rate. He won’t, therefore, be interrupting the chemo to deliver radiotherapy. Good news. I was reading the regime information again last night and it was explaining apologetically that hair loss and a couple of other nasty side effects are inevitable. Not so! In fact I am growing my hair back because I have not lost one. I am also avoiding a whole list of other problems, which is making this a lot easier. My pain levels are up again, at the base of my back, and if I forget to take the pain killers during the day, and I do that regularly, I seriously know about it and all activity needs to cease until I take them and they kick in. This can take over an hour. Shall I set my phone alarm? Maybe stop thinking about it and just do it?

The family are all well. Martha regularly advises me to ‘take a chill pill,’ to which I reply, ‘Whatever..’ Is this the right response? Joel is doing well at school, especially in the art of conversation and has been practising answering questions. He had one the other day with his teacher, Sarah:

Sarah: Why is the lion trapped?
Joel: He’s sad..
Sarah: Why is he sad?
Joel: He’s scared.
Sarah: What’s making him scared?
Joel: Stop talking, Sarah.

If only we could end our conversations like that..

We are off to bask in sunny Scotland now. We’ll try and get some photos to post on here when we get back.

The First Dose

Well, no one can say I'm not special. As they sent in the first bag of chemo, I experienced the usual side effects that they warned me about, but I also started to find it difficult to speak and actually form words (queue the Scottish jokes ...), which was obviously a neurological effect. None of the consultants in the hospital had ever come across this in their entire careers and so they stopped that particular infusion and the consultants went on-line. Apparently, and I quote, "A few doctors across the world have come across this, but it is exceedingly rare." They are bit concerned about it and so I am meeting up with my consultant before the next one so they can work out what to do, as it is important that I keep the treatment. Additionally, my haemoglobin is down at 7.6 and so I am booked in for a blood transfusion on Friday.

On the positive side, at the end of day 1 I can report feeling okay. Here's hoping I have another easy ride when it comes to side effects. Thank you to those of you supporting us in prayer and for all the kind thoughts and messages we have received. We are always very grateful for the number of people we have around us.

The Chemo

Well, my Hickman line has been surgically placed, my hair is shaved, I have organised cover at school and I am ready for chemo ... ish. I start on Tuesday morning. The Hickman line was straight forward. It's only when I think about it that I feel a bit wobbly. It went into a main vein in my neck and was fed down into my chest and into the vena cava, which is one of the body's main veins. It means that the chemo can be fed straight into the body without using a needle; it also reduces the side effects. The side effects are a bit grim and infections can be life-threatening. If they develop I have to go straight into hospital in Leeds. Anyway, I have been spared the full force of the side-effects in previous regimes and I remain hopeful that I might be spared the full force of this.

The family are all well and back at school. It hardly seems that we have been away! Our dog Basil has had a great day. I came home to find an empty chedders packet and an empty Soreen loaf wrapper. He was confined to his bed as a punishment, but not to worry ... Joel gave him his dinner. Great.

Thanks for visiting the blog. I will keep you up to date.

Dodgy ...

Well, France turned out to be very sunny indeed – everyday in fact. We spent most days in the pool and fun was had by all. We managed to have a very good break … as hopefully the pictures show. I have just come back from the Greenbelt Festival, where the MET office misled us by saying there were going to be sunny intervals. It was great to catch up with many good friends. I spent an afternoon listening to jazz, but was left with my 30 year-old key question unanswered – who is everyone in the ensemble following?

I might well have overdone it at the festival because yesterday was a very rough day – very fragile and energy-less. The main incident for me was my fainting episode. I strongly believe in committing to 'a faint' and so this time passed-out in a forwards direction, forehead-first onto the corner of a wall. It was just Joel and I in the house at the time, but fortunately he was safe upstairs. Eventually I managed to get to the lounge and onto a sofa and I lay there for a few hours sleeping. Today I feel better, just in time for school on Thursday!

I met with the oncologist last Friday and the results of the scan aren’t good. Everything has progressed slightly and the new tumours are absolutely established. So … it’s chemo time. I had a Hickman line put in today (it goes in through a main artery in my neck and down into my chest and means no more needles for now) and I start the new regime sometime in the next week. It is a tough one and I expect my school life to be reduced by 50%. Anyway, I remain hopeful that I will weather it well as I have done all the previous regimes. However, I am also very anxious that the treatment has effect. Mary and I are very aware that I have worked my way through many treatments and that there are very few left after this, if any. We have a real sense of being in classic cancer territory – strong chemo bringing hair loss, risk of serious weight loss, lethargy etc. It feels like a new land. Anyway, we’re heading into it. I am going to chart the number of times people tell me that I actually suit being bald or that I have a really nice shape of head (all well-meant, I know) The children in my school will be much more direct – “Eh, Mr ‘alliday. Wot ye gone and done with yer ‘air?”

Thanks again for visiting the blog.

A Couple Of Poems ...

A couple of poems for you about the first recorded murder in The Bible, which happened to be between brothers (sticking to my usual cheery themes). They are a result of some writing I am doing in readiness for the Greenbelt Festival.


Abel

Cutting firstborn lambs
from their mothers,
you soothe their bleating
before silencing them quickly
and arranging the portions
on an altar to your God.

Your brother steps out from your shadow,
severs the family tie,
breaks you.
Lost decades shimmer
on a scarlet pool at his feet
alongside an unclaimed love,
and the face of your firstborn.

May the stench of you
turn your God’s head,
the stain of you
catch His eye.




Cain

Not left over fruit
or dry vegetables;
this sacrifice is precious -
doused in blame,
kindled with jealousy,
sparked to flame by failure
as rough and bitter
as the skin on your palms.

The flock is spared
as a shepherd’s body is broken -
a brother -
the ground sipping blood
for the first time.

Crumbling in one of your fields,
only to rise in dust that
will powder your sweating brow,
dry the back of your throat

We attended a consultation with our oncologist yesterday, braced as we always are for bad news. Just as well, because it was bad news. Recent results and examinations suggest that the cancer has spread to a new site in my pelvis. It will become clear exactly how bad this is when I have a scan on 27th August. This won't necessarily kick-start the next dreaded course of chemo, but at the first sign that this new development is continuing to grow, I will be back on the drip. Our usual method of coping with this sort of news is to sink for a few days and then, hopefully, to re-surface. We have good people around us and I am sure we will be fine. So, for those of you who pray - how do I avoid going onto the horrible chemo? If the scan shows that my other cancer sites have stayed the same and if this new site stays small or recedes (which apparently, it might), then I will probably stay off the chemo. I really want that. Once this chemo has run its course there is a possibility of running it again with another infusion to up its strength, but thereafter I think we are running out of options. I've had about as much radiotherapy as they dare give me (I think this is the case, based on recent conversations with the oncologist.)

So there we go. We are off on holiday in just over a week - France. Might we see the sun? We'd better because getting to France isn't cheap! Then I am off to the Greenbelt Festival with my annual promise of attending lots of edifying seminars but knowing deep down I will be resident in the Tiny Tea Tent. The poetry is coming along well and when I write one that will 'fit' the blog I promise to post it up.

Thanks again for visiting the blog and for ongoing support to Mary and I.
Here is Joel wandering free in The Lakes ...

Trophies

The end of term is within sight. A relief all round. On the whole it has been a good year. We have some very good SATs result with which to appease Ofsted and the Deputy is now firmly in role. We had a good school moment just a couple of weeks ago when our youngest children went up to the village church to talk to the Vicar. (They had designed their own questions and the first one was, “Did Jesus survive?” Interesting at many levels but difficult to give an answer to someone who is five.) Anyway, as part of the talk the vicar produced this large, decorated silver chalice. The eyes of the children all widened, particularly those of Alex aged 5, who looked on and asked, “Where do you keep your other football trophies?”

I saw the consultant last Friday, just for a quick conversation. They will scan me again later in August and meet to discuss the results early in September. The only thing that has changed is that they have altered the pain management, adding a morphine solution to the usual routine. It is the same old problem of waking with leg pain at about 2 am and not really getting back to sleep. I will now take some of the morphine solution when I wake and hopefully this will see me through. I am still pleased to be treatment free for the summer, and if I can manage the pain more successfully then we should hopefully enjoy a few good weeks.

It’s Sports Day today in school. I am on the score board this year, as being a line judge proved to be too frightening last year. You really take your life in your hands! Many schools have opted to give out ‘Well Done’ stickers to all the competitors, but I am still of the view that there should be outright winners, who receive trophies and/or certificates. After all, it is one of life’s important lessons … you can’t be good at everything and some children do excel in sport. That said, last year whenever I declared the winner of race, I quickly felt like a lone wildebeest in a David Attenborough documentary, being stalked by an approaching pack of hungry predators. I might just carry a few sheets of ‘Headteacher’s Award’ stickers, in case.

I will leave you with some pictures of Martha’s birthday celebrations. Where did those years go?

Thanks for visiting the blog.