the diary of a furball

Learning

2011-06-22T16:23:00.003+01:00

How to be me again.

I'm sorry for not posting for so long, so much has happened to me and to others. There's been earthquakes and tsunami, unbelievable how powerful nature can be. I can't imagine life in either New Zealand or Japan, talking to Charlie last night in Christchurch and it gives a tiny glimpse of how life can change in moments. I still have stuck in my mind the image of the tsunami hitting the coast of Japan and cars trying to change direction away from a wall of water.

I'm not sure why I stopped posting on the blog, maybe it was because I was busy trying to remember how to be the teacher I was. Maybe by talking to people I felt that I had my emotional release, more realistically I think I wanted to finish the story but I didn't know how.

Several people who have followed the blog and have emailed and texted support suggested that I should turn the blog into a book. I like the idea and started looking into it, asking friends about publishing and talking to really kind people who had all sorts of advice. I got thoroughly carried away with the idea of publishing the story and raising money for charity, maybe I should pursue it more but I need to stop the story and return to reality.

Looking back I find the last two years almost fictional, my mind is playing a wonderful but dangerous trick on me. It seems to have blanked out so much of the last two years that unless I'm talking to someone about it I forget it's happened. I guess it's a self preservation technique which works 99 percent of the time the other 1 percent memories catch me up and bite me on the bum.

Over the last few months my energy levels have increased, as has my fitness. Up to Easter I felt absolutely amazing, I had built up my attendance at work from calling in once a week to staying in a couple of hours a couple of times and then teaching a couple of hours with another teacher and then teaching on my own and progressing to the point four weeks ago when I took back my timetable fully.

At one point in time I was wondering if I'd ever get back to work let alone back to my full timetable, coming up to Spring bank half term I felt fantastic, tired but fantastic. Then I started with the odd ache and pain that I couldn't explain, upper left chest, along with an itchy back and itchy scalp. The itching is something that I ignored when I first started this journey, the pains were what took me to the gp's. Along with being tired my head started to wonder, this time last year I relapsed, the cancer came back. Fathers day last year has a photo of me looking shocking, fathers day this year has no photos of me but if there was I'd look tired but relieved. The scans were all clear, my bloods showed that my immune system is still pretty shot but that's to be expected.

Weston park are still at their best, my phone call asking if I could discuss the sensations I was having brought about a series of tests and scans all within two weeks of ringing. I can't praise them enough, they don't even think I'm a hyperchondriac either!

I think it has come at a good time, a reality check/slap across the face. I have to learn how to be me, the new me, not improved but still alive. I have had to learn to chill out at school as stressy teachers get eaten for lunch. I have to balance my physical exertion with making sure I can recharge my batteries sufficiently before the next effort. I have to exercise my brain as much as my body and most of all I have to remember how amazingly lucky I am.

I have had so much support from friends and family, far and wide. I have had letters from people who have read my ramblings, thank you Gordon yours meant so much, texts and emails. I have to move on with my life and whatever path that takes me down or up! I love my life, honestly there is no luckier person on the planet. I've never written a diary before and whether I write one again is up for debate. Thank you to anyone and everyone who has sat through my drivel. Most of all to my amazing wife, I love you so much and I couldn't have done the last few years without you. Thank you.

Normal

2011-02-03T11:57:00.004Z

I go on about normal too much maybe but it's what I crave and it's the normal things that we haven't been able to have.

For example picking Wendy up after work and driving to a little cafe and sitting drinking good coffee in the sunshine. Walking the dog without feeling like my legs are going to fall off, doing bits round the house (not much but starting.....), looking at school work, even thinking about going back to school. All these things which many people take for granted or don't even consider during their days, these are the things that I have craved and I'm sure many other people suffering illnesses crave their normal too.

My head is a bit up and down, I'm petrified of going back to work, it scares me more than any procedure or chemo session ever did. The only reason I can put that down to is that I have control over it, it is me and only me that can be the teacher in the classroom and it is my head and my mouth that get's information into young people, hopefully get them thinking too. When I was having a process done to me I'd accept that it'd either work or it wouldn't, regardless of my input, in this way I found I could accept the processes in a much more relaxed way.

I'm itching to get back though, there's only so many times you can look at bike bits on the internet and day time telly isn't all it's cracked up to be, I feel myself losing brain cells as I watch and I don't have that many to start with! I want to get back to being the teacher I was, not the best but I was ok and I had a good rapport with most of the kids and some of the teachers! I'll get there, I know I will it's just how long it takes and how I am in the mean time.

I've ridden my bike, I've been swimming with the girls, I've washed and hoovered the car and I feel great. Yes I still get tired, yes I still get scared when I have a cough or an ache and yes I'll probably always have that fear but the hospital don't want to see me of three months so I have to take their lead and feel confident that I'm on the road to normality again.

Walking home from school last night with the girls just made me so glad to be alive, the laughter and joy of life that we had was such a tonic. Lay on the sofa with Wend just finished my day off perfectly. Life is good, long may it last.

Up there for thinking down there for dancing

2011-01-21T09:54:00.010Z

Too much thinking and not enough dancing that's my trouble. Another week and another head full of worries, oh and plenty of snot to boot!

The latter has only been presenting itself at night, in the form of coughing fits, the worse making me sick. The best waking me and Wendy up time and time again. I guess the lack of sleep took it's toll on my body but it had a deeper effect on my head, the tired body and the irrational head started thinking that it feels like it did last year when the furball came back.

I didn't have any of the other symptoms but my head thought and thought and worried and worried and all of a sudden I'm sinking into how do we tell the girls again, Wendy shouldn't have to go through this again, I don't know if I have anything left to give. So when in doubt give Weston a shout!

I left Weston feeling like a complete hyperchondriac, having had bloods done, a thorough examination and a chest xray the worst that they found was one of my blood results was one point off being perfect! The rest of my bloods were as good as a normal human being and according to the ward clerk much better than hers! My xray was clear and the examination showed nothing other than a big scared bloke with a cold.

I left with a course of antibiotics and a big piece of humble pie. As seems to be the case I meet people worse off than myself on my visits, maybe they're sent to remind me how lucky I am. The staff always reinforce the if you're worried get in touch message which made me feel better and then I thought about my blood results, nearly four months after stem cell transplant and my bloods are normal. How brilliant is my body, at replacing blood, not at dancing!

Wendy says, rightly so, that I think too much and I have too much time for thinking. I do think too much and looking back at my life the things I've talked myself out of by thinking too much is amazing, a ride on a bmx back in the day, a ride on a drunk but pretty scouser (long story chivalry prevailed), parties and life experiences which will never repeat themselves. But then I am a grown up now and riding a bmx is not so good for my back!

So the dog and I went for a big walk down Wyming brook footpath and back up the race track. It was a cracking day, cold and bright and the air I pulled into my lungs was so sharp and invigorating I couldn't help feel totally alive.

So from now on it'll be a bit less thinking and a lot more doing, not dancing, doing stuff rather than thinking about stuff. Well that's the plan anyway, I'll be scared in the future as I have been in the past but I need to keep rolling with this journey called life and it's little foibles.

It was a bit parky!

No time for sitting, it's time for doing.

I likes steel I does

20 minutes from a big city!

Shed time

2011-01-14T15:02:00.003Z

I've been a right miserable git recently and I have no right to be. Christmas was superb, it was the best day ever, fun and food and love and laughter. Wendy had put on a superb spread with an incredible roast and then pecan pie for pudding. I guess it wasn't a traditional Christmas day spread but it was fabulous and it was ours.

There were days last year when it wasn't clear if I'd be around at Christmas so being well and being present was brilliant. Everyday is a blessing and recently I've lost sight of that.

We trogged on down to Wales on the 27th and for me it was a real achievement driving all the way, we stopped at Brian and Eve's which was lovely except for Bertie embarrassing himself on the side of their sofa! We'd 10 miles or so left when I was aware of a limit to my endurance, my wrists ached and my head was slowing down but soon enough we were drinking tea and laughing with Anita and Jason. I was knackered for a day afterwards but I felt like my masculinity had returned, driving has been such an important part of my life that to be able to drive to Wales was a massive tick in the return to normal box.

Jason and I had a bit of an adventure courtesy of his round table Christmas do, I thought it'd be a quiet pint and a meal in Cardigan. It turned into a quiet meal in Haverfordwest and then several less quiet pints back in Cardigan. A much bigger night than I'd expected or have had for an extremely long time, it finished with a kebab and me telling Anita how much I loved Jason and her and being in Wales. I meant it too even in the cold light of day.

We had a lovely time at Bill and Bron's even if the table was a little crowded it was great to see Bron's son Graham and family and the post dinner Just Dance 2 competition was great fun even if it wasn't the best way of settling a meal!

It was new years eve when I started feeling totally rubbish, I'd felt a little ropey the day before but put it down to the night before and probably doing too much, but now I felt rubbish and it panicked me. A phone call to Weston gave me some reassurance and a trip to Haverfordwest hospital gave me a little more, oh and a dose of tami-flu just to make sure. It was a rubbish time to go to Withybush as Wendy's mum had passed away ten years prior on that day so how she must have been feeling heaven only knows. Needless to say the evening wasn't the festivity we had all hoped for and by half ten I made my apologies and went to bed.

Welcoming the new year in had always been such a happy occasion but this year felt different to me, yes I was poorly but I felt like I had to be more respectful to the coming year. Why I don't know, maybe I felt daft for having drunk so much, my body has been through so much and it doesn't need anything else to cope with. I'm not signing the pledge or anything but I'll be more careful in future.

Getting home was to be such a simple affair, we load the car, I get in and drive home. Simple. I had nothing left, as I stood at the bottom of Anita and Jason's stairs crying I couldn't find anything in me that would safely get my family home. I didn't have the concentration nor the physical energy to drive 230 miles and all of a sudden, because of a poxy cold my masculinity dropped out of my trousers and ran and hid under a stone. To say I was grateful to Anita and Jason driving us half way and then mum and dad driving us home is an understatement, I probably didn't show much gratitude as I sulked most of the way but I'd just lost one of the biggest normal's I measure myself against and I didn't know how to find it again.

I have been focusing on the negatives ever since, the cold has me up in the night coughing which isn't the nicest but it's rubbish for Wend as she's back at work now and is understandably knackered from that. How she does it I have no idea, she's gone straight back in and it makes me wonder. I struggled doing a couple of hours here and there last year and I'll do a phased return this time too. Jason's dad has had the horrible news that his cancer is back, what the future holds only time will tell, but I've allowed that to stir up emotions and memories which have scared me again. I should really be living my life and being there to support Jase, that's where I should be.

I don't have a shed, I have a cellar. It's not big, it's not clean but it's dry and it's full of stuff. I don't expect everyone to understand, in fact I expect very few to understand but today I cleared part of my bench and threw things away. It was a cleansing of sorts, throwing out negative thoughts, worries about aches and pains. Sweeping up shavings from wood cut for turning projects, collecting my thoughts about Geoff (Jason's dad) and about me and where I am. Putting up clips to hold tools so that they are readily available when I need them, getting my priorities straight. Oh and looking at my bike, just cos I like looking at my bike. I like riding it more but looking will do for now.

Then my mind started to find all the positives, the letter from Uncle Gordon which made me and mum cry, the phone call from Wendy's dad on Christmas day that made me cry because he was nice to me, the bumping in to Sarah at the climbing works (didn't make me cry), the fabulous family times we've had over the last few weeks (with and without crying). The time I have spent with Wendy and the love and laughter we have shared. The time spent with the girls laughing and admiring their sense of being and their love of life even after all they've been through. Time spent walking the daft dog. Time just being a big hairy Yorkshire bloke with a cold. Just because I've had a stem cell transplant doesn't make me immune to coughs and colds. That's part of being normal, well as normal as I get anyhow!

Now I need to shake off this cold, start getting fit again and then get on with my life, in all it's normal glory.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-24T18:05:00.004Z

Like it says Merry Christmas. Wendy and I are having a phone and web free Christmas so greetings are a little early.

A very short post this one, just to say how amazingly lucky I am to be here. To have another Christmas with my beautiful family is a blessing I wasn't always sure I'd get. Not everyone is so lucky and my heart goes out to them, there is often someone worse off than me and I hope they can find solace and peace in the arms and hearts of family and friends.

For now I'm going to curl up on the sofa with my girls and grumpy dog and a glass of something suitable. The love and support we've had this year has been amazing and makes me warm inside, along with the mulled wine!

Have a great time, love to all.

Traditions

2010-12-20T10:44:00.003Z

Some traditions hark back to a distant place in time. Others we start. Last year Wendy and I went to the Showroom to see it's a wonderful life. This year we did the same, does that class as a tradition? Anyway I sobbed, I thought I was sobbing quietly but according to Wendy I wasn't. The bit that got me was when George Bailey comes back to being (he's granted a wish by Clarence (angel second class (got no wings)) that he'd never been born), so he's just seen the world as it would have turned out if he'd never been born.

So he'd seen his wife as an old maid, he'd seen the town he lived in turned into a corrupt little town in the pocket of the old miser in charge and he'd seen his mother broken by grief when his younger brother drowned as he'd not been alive to save him.

So to come back into being and see his children and to see and hear and hold his wife was such a joyous occasion for him it set me going. I hadn't been taken by an angel and I haven't changed the world I live in but I have experienced being unable to hold my children and being unable to hold and see and hear Wendy. To be given a chance to do that again has been worth all the time and drugs and injections. How much time I have on this planet is unknown but it is all so precious, it is worth more than anything money can buy. My life now is simply amazing.

To add to the traditions we went to the panto again, this year Sarah and Geoff were late through no fault of their own, they battled through snow and ice to drive from Wigan to see some bloke in a dress........ We were also joined by Debbie and her daughter Alicia, the cousin we didn't know about but now can't imagine living without and her daughter who I taught at school. Then to round out the extended family was Shelly and her bloke Dave and his God son Nathan. Sixteen in total with mum and dad and Viv and family. Carys was the loudest by far but the laughter that came when the dames boobs slipped was worth the entry fee alone!

Whether the ice skating in the peace gardens makes it into tradition I'm not sure but the post panto curry may!

Walking the dog this morning was a chilly experience, four out five of the glass milk bottles had broken this morning as it was so cold and the new washing machine refuses to work as the water feed to that is frozen too. But as my nasal hair, newly acquired and it was sorely missed, froze in the cold air my heart sang in my chest as being alive is just bloody brilliant.

Christmas Show time

2010-12-14T20:01:00.003Z

Sometimes children's school shows are a little bit wearing, songs that have been rehearsed to death in the home, recorders out of tune and pushy parents taking up the front seats.

Sometimes they're not. Carys' was a lovely event last week, she was a narrator with a line of importance. It went well, Carys said her line well, with clarity and volume and we sat there pleased as punch. Anyone who's ever met Carys won't be surprised at her performance as she's a young lady who can be a star in her own lifetime if she so chooses.

Georgia has been a different child recently, she's grown into her own skin with a confidence that I worried she would never find. Her sense of humour is wickedly quick and she has her own identity in a world that could be described as bland. She even volunteered to be a narrator for the Christmas play!

This is something that neither Wend or I would have ever believed could happen, volunteering to stand in front of a room full of strangers and speak out loud. Well today was the day. We went with baited breath and sat in the hall on chairs that are way too small for my rather large backside.

There was the traditional waving and smiling and thumbs up as the kids came in and sat in their pre-show places. Then it was show time, the first people on stage were George and two other narrators. There she stood holding on to the hem of her t-shirt a little smile on those lips and a sparkle in her eye. Then she was into her lines, clear and loud and so perfect. Wend had tears in her eyes and I had a massive lump in my throat. It meant so much, after the past two years there she was our Georgie pickle stood with confidence narrating her lines in front of parents and peers alike.

She's just gone to bed and I can't put into words how proud I am of her, so I told her just that.

The show was brill, even after George had sat down, there were shadow puppets and costumes and singing that was way better than it should be for a junior school show. To say I felt warm inside is a massive understatement. What a fabulously lucky man I am.

Am I so transparent?

2010-12-01T15:57:00.003Z

Writing a blog has been a fascinating process for me, being honest with my feelings but not pushing my opinion, it's been massively emotional for me and an incredible release. Reading the little comments has been a boost as well, it's been a real support to us knowing people are out there rooting for me.

Reading Gwyn's comment on the last post was like looking into my head which was weird! I'm not known for my patience but I, mistakenly, thought that I was hiding my desire to be back to normal! Obviously not.

It's been a strange couple of weeks with some real highs and some mind focusing lows. The low's have mostly been due to an inane ability I have to look at the negatives, sometimes I just get caught into a spiral of negative thought. Why I don't know, how I break that spiral is never clear to me until Wendy points it out, I have to break a cycle. Usually it's a physical thing with me, go for a walk or go in the cellar and hit stuff, it's a combination of busy head and a body that isn't ready to do all the things I want it to! The recent spiral was broken with a mixture of walking the dog, doing my physio rehab and also sorting some paperwork out. Now this last one is a new one for me but I found it very rewarding, even though it took me a full morning to fill in a form and write a letter!

I called in to work last week and had a wonderful time for a couple of hours, then I crashed and just had to leave. It was as quick as that, one minute happy and chatty next minute I'm quiet and focussed on leaving. It was weird but it was also a good sign that my head isn't anywhere near ready for going back, that said it was fantastic to see staff and kids alike and the positive vibe that the majority of kids gave me was brilliant.

Physically I'm getting much better, it's unusual now that I sleep in the day, my hair is trying to come back (everywhere, which is surprisingly nice). I've been playing in the snow today of which we have a ridiculous amount (14inches) which has been fab. Playing, throwing snow balls, sledging, building a little igloo/snow tunnel and rugby tackling people all without getting out of breath or having to give up five minutes in is just incredible considering I've only been out of hospital for two months.

This is a fact I have to hold onto. I'm lucky like a lottery winner, talking to a guy at the physio sessions he was in isolation for six months, having infection after infection. He went from 16 stone to 10 and has lost so much muscle tone he has to walk with a stick to save him falling all the time. He doesn't seem to want sympathy but he just wants to be normal, I guess that's a common theme with people who've been through an experience like we have.

My normal is being a dad and a husband and a teacher who bikes and runs and does stuff. As it goes I feel like I'm getting there with the husband and dad bit, I so want to be teaching again it makes me ache but first I need to be fit, physically and mentally. So, Gwyneth, I'm going to take Nick size small steps...........way slower than I'd like but probably better in the long run.

Just a little too much. (Dawn, put the kettle on)

2010-11-19T19:47:00.006Z

I've had a fabulous week, I've felt more relaxed and fitter than I have done for a very long time. I'm still getting tired but it's a learning process, how much I can do in one day and how I feel before the batteries run dry, kind of!

Something has been missing though, my life has changed a little since I had my Hickman line out last week. My daily injection is no longer needed which is fantastic, my belly was looking like a very random dot to dot puzzle. I have had a real mental block about giving myself the injections and I had reservations about Wendy giving them to me. I appreciate she's a trained nurse and that she was happy to do it but I didn't want her to, I didn't want our relationship to change to one of carer and cared for. If it got to the stage that I'd been so ill I had no option then so be it but I wasn't planning on being ill! This meant that I had a daily visit from the district nurse team, not the whole team just one of them at a time!

This visit was as much a psychiatric assessment as much it was to administer the drugs. It helped so much having a friendly face call in and have a bit of a chat, I can understand how important it must be for people who are alone. The team helped me come to terms with coming home, being ill, being better and also about being a complete woos when it came to me doing the injections. They were patient and funny and they did a great deal more for me than just give me injections they started my head healing.

The removal of the line has been a relief for me, I had worried bout how the procedure was going to work and whether or not it was a case of just pull the darn thing out. As it happened it was local anaesthetic into the area around where the line exited my shoulder and a reasonable amount of cutting. The line has a rough area designed into it so the body's tissues can grow onto the line and hold it in place. Well from the grunting and huffing of the doctor and the pushing and pulling on my shoulder I guess my body had done a good job of growing new tissue! Once the connection between me and the plastic tube had been severed it was a gentle pull and out it came, as it was pulled out of my neck the doctor put pressure on my neck to help the vein heal up and so I didn't bleed under the skin. I would have been annoyed to have beaten cancer twice and then bled to death! I now have three stitches and a line on my shoulder which may give me the scar I was wanting. More importantly though I don't get woken up by a sharp plastic clip digging in my nipple every time I roll over in bed and I don't feel self conscious in front of Wend when I'm in my birthday suit. She's never commented or made an issue it's purely in my head that I'm feeling self conscious about it.

This new freedom has allowed me to be a little more adventurous with my days, so along with my physio rehab I've visited work and driven around more than I've done before. I'm also really enjoying walking the dog the smell of the leaves, the sound of the river and the feeling of the seasons changing.

The visit to work was great, seeing people and having a bit of time to catch up but most of all it was the welcome I was given. Having been away for so long you never know how people will react to you. They're busy with their own lives and their own worries but they made me feel so welcome and the number of people asking when I'd be back, it was quite humbling.

Well it had to have a bit of a lump in the smooth running and that came on Thursday. It was my fault, I'd felt great on Wednesday and so I'd done too much. It wasn't the end of the world too tired like a few weeks ago but it was a definite reminder of how I'm not sorted, regardless of how good I had been feeling.

I feel great in my own skin at the moment and have very few if any sad thoughts, until I was watching children in need tonight. A young lad had lost his mum to cancer, he was talking about how brave she'd been having all the injections and the treatment and yet she still passed away. I had a lump in the throat and a tear in the eye when George piped up that I had been brave having all the treatment. I haven't been brave I've just had to accept my lot and get on with it, I've been damn lucky to be honest. I'm still here and I have the majority of my faculties about me, long may it last.

(Oh the instruction in brackets is to a friend of Wend's who complains about not knowing whether to have a cup of tea with her blog up date.)

The start of normal

2010-11-15T09:21:00.004Z

Normal for us is being out in the peaks walking and scrambling and generally enjoying the great outdoors. So the first morning of the rest of our lives that's what we did. A gorgeous blue sky followed us all the way to Burbage where we walked under the gritstone cliffs and through the heather watching like minded folks enjoying the amazing scenery.

It was the first time we'd taken Bertie on the rocks and we needn't have worried, I think he's actually a grey hound/kangaroo/mountain goat cross rather than a pedigree Border Terrier. The way he scooted about and then bounced over the heather brought joy and amazement. I felt superb scrambling up the cliff to try and catch up with the girls, I couldn't have done it any quicker but I felt great and my heart wasn't trying to burst out of my chest as I'd expected. With few slips and slides and plenty of laughter we were back at the car ready for tea and medals at the local cafe.

This was the scene of my first welling, I could feel my eyes filling and my heart pumping. Looking at my amazing family, sat round eating toast and having their various drinks, we got here. Through it all, all the chemo, the scans the high's and the lows. The blue lights and the crappy food (in hospital), we'd got to the other side and I just felt an overwhelming pride in these three incredible people who I'm lucky enough to call my family. They'd carried on, going to school, walking the dog and keeping the house sorted and all being fed and watered and carrying on with life.

I kept it together, can't be sobbing in a public place! It took it out of me though and I felt flat for the rest of the day, the sobbing was stuck somewhere and it needed out but it's not like a spot that you squeeze it needs a trigger. Charlie was very nearly that trigger when he phoned from New Zealand, I wish I could have sounded happier but I had nothing left and I felt myself going but then the phone went dead. He rang back, it went dead again, he rang back muttering something about the hamsters weren't running hard enough! It was enough though for me to lose my train of thought and for the sobs to remain stuck, probably to Charlie's relief!

They came at Sunday tea, we'd had a lovely day going to the park with Viv and her family and then chilling, watching the rugby and just pottering round home. I'd taken the hound for another walk just round the block but I felt capable and really enjoyed the feeling of the air in my lungs and the warmth in my legs. So we're sat round having had a beautiful roast chicken and were just tucking into some pudding when they came. Wendy saw them coming and I tried in a way to stave them off but they came anyway. This time I knew why, I was looking at George and thinking how grown up she's becoming how much has changed since the start of round two. How fabulous it was to take the girls to a restaurant on Friday and the way they behaved. How I'm going to get to see them grow some more, this is it, I get to see my family blossom and grow. Whether I agree on boyfriend choices or come out with the immortal line 'You're not going out dressed like that' I don't know and to be honest I don't care because unless I get knocked over by a bus (other forms of mortality available!) I'm going to live more than was expected. The feeling that my life is extended is weird and wonderful at the same time, I just don't want to mess it up.

Done it

2010-11-12T15:42:00.005Z

I'm in remission, again! Liked it so much I thought I'd do it twice!

The scan has shown that the lump has reduced in size, the nodules on my lung have disappeared as they hoped they would, the liquid round my heart has gone but has left a thickened sack around the heart and my liver is a bit fatty. Fois gras anyone!

It's not sunk in yet and I haven't sobbed but I will and I'll bloody well enjoy it. My head feels like it's going to explode with all the pent up angst and my heart feels like beating out of my chest.

I owe so much to so many and the hearts and thoughts have given so much. My wife and kids have always been my raison d'etre and the look of relief on Wend's face when we had the news was magical as was the reaction of the kids when they came home from school. Carys wanted to squeeze and squidge me, George seemed happy with a hug but there'll be plenty more of those.

The big boss (not Wendy!) says I'll be in trouble if I break my arms cartwheeling! Mum sobbed, Viv sobbed, Dad hugged and hugged as did Amanda, Belinda squeeled and Mark was overjoyed. After having to give shitty news out for so long it's fab giving good news for a change.

Going to go for a curry and a couple of shandies tonight, a little celebration. This time remission feels right, it feels like it has a permanence to it as though the little bar steward is beaten. Whether it is or not only time will tell and that'll always be in the back of my mind, but for now I'm going to enjoy life for as long as possible.

Fireworks and friends

2010-11-11T12:07:00.003Z

The torchlight procession was lovely and the the fireworks were excellent, the food queue was rubbish. It's the one thing that let down the evening, it didn't flow and was too slow, it's not a massive problem but it meant that I spent more time stood waiting than being with Wendy and the girls.

I felt good Sunday, my legs knew I'd been walking and standing for longer than before, but I felt great. I so looking forward to the evening, beer and chat with my two best friends. The Hillsborough Hotel is a weird little pub which has it's own brewery attached to it, it's the sort of place that has live music. In fact there was a group of people playing folk music in the conservatory at the back while we chatted and laughed and shared stories, some old some new. Mark and Charlie had bought me a brilliant black and white painting, ink on silk, of Stanage edge. Emotive and beautiful it made me think of times walking and biking on the edge with friend and family. trying to catch Mark riding down the bridleway and getting to know Veronica on her first visit to the UK while watching the girls jumping from rock to rock.

It's not big but it's special and it meant so much knowing who it was from. The beer sank really smoothly and the banter was light hearted and witty, we even had a Barry join us which added another dimension as he has witnessed Charlie being tipsy on more than one occasion!

My head was surprisingly good the next morning, much to my amazement, perhaps chemo stops hangovers........not something I'm going to research too much! My second physio session was superb, I was buzzing with endorphins afterwards and wanted to take on the world. Something had changed, be it in my mind or my physicality or both but I worked harder than the week before but it was easier to do. I could lift more and I lasted longer on the aerobic exercises and my breathing was easier too. It just gave me so much confidence and such a high.

My high was tempered slightly by a scan the next morning, a tickle in my throat prompted my to stay and get it checked out. So I spent the morning giving blood and breathing in and out to be told all was well. I have my consultants voice ringing in my ears warning me of being complacent about tickles and coughs. It was no bother and at no point was I made to feel as though I was being an inconvenience to anyone. As I was leaving I had to squeeze through a group of people on the corridor, they were obviously the recipients of the worse news possible. There is a look in the eye, an acknowledgement of the fragility of life. It brought me back to my own reality and that the scan I'd had that morning will bring some sort of closure, one way or another. Up until that point I'd had only positive thoughts about it's outcome, even now I'm having positive thoughts. I've been walking the dog and thinking about work.

It'll be what it'll be.

How does she do it?

2010-11-11T11:12:00.006Z

I've been a royal pain in the bum leading up to my birthday last week. I've had too much time to think to be honest, I've been thinking too much about life and what's important. I've spent time looking out of windows wishing to live, not wishing for a new phone or a bigger better faster thingymebob.

So when asked what I'd like for my birthday I said nothing, as in I don't want anything rather than not saying anything! The thing that I couldn't see in my blinkered way was that Wendy and the girls and others around me wanted to celebrate my birthday and that the giving was as much for them as it was for me.

The biggest thing for me was that I made it, at times I was unsure as to whether I'd get to my 39th year. I guess it was a little touch and go at times, but hey I'm here and I have no plans to go anywhere soon.

I had started to suggest things to Wendy but I still wasn't being overly helpful. But she came up with the one thing I didn't know I wanted but I really did! Along with a cookery book and a box set of dvd's, which I'd forgotten I wanted, Wendy got me a lovely ceramic mixing bowl. I have watched cookery programs and yearned for a nice ceramic bowl in which to make bread. Now I had the bowl and the book so Saturday morning I made my first loaf of soda bread, it was so nice mixing and feeling the dough in between my fingers. The really basic action of mixing together simple ingredients and then hoping and watching as the dough turned from something so soft and plain to a lovely looking loaf. It tasted ok too, even if I do say so myself.

Crusty and tasty

Friday had been a lovely day with gifts and laughter and the return of Charlie, on a flying visit from New Zealand. Saturday morning started with wonderful pancakes, bacon and maple syrup. Breakfast in bed, with Wendy and the girls and damn good food how can I not wake with a smile.

After a fairly lazy morning we had a lovely afternoon with a superb afternoon tea which Wend had prepared. Mark and Jill brought Charlie down and mum and dad called as they were taking us to Eyam for the fireworks. It was a lovely afternoon spoiled by me having a panic attack and being rude to Wend. We were half way to Eyam and all of a sudden I couldn't think where I'd put the tickets, the last time I could remember seeing them was when I was putting my shoes on and Wendy had moved them all of 2 inches from where I put them. This in my mind had been enough to stop me picking the darn things up and I said as much. It wasn't Wendy's fault the tickets hadn't been moved out of my eyesight and the embarrassing and worrying thing was I'd picked them up and put them in the pocket on the back of the car seat! It served to show me how my temper is still so close to the surface and that although my fatigue levels are miles better than they have been it still has a bearing on my patience.

Physio-terrorists

2010-11-03T19:53:00.003Z

I was nervous about going to the physios, I was nervous about being crap, about being the new boy, about how I'd feel the next day. So it was with trepidation that I got on the bus and pottered up to the Hallamshire for my physio controlled work out.

I was also really excited about it as I want to get my fitness back as it was such a big part of my life before. I was never a gym bunny and I hadn't realised how much I needed the endorphins until I had been denied them. But now I'm aching to get back to playing, running, swimming, biking just being me again.

So I changed into the only shorts that fitted me and a top that was once loose but is now almost indecent and into the world of heart rate monitors and sweat and pain we go. Well not really, it was friendly and gentle and welcoming. All the people there were people coming out of or going through a fairly harrowing time of their lives for one reason or another. No-one was rippling muscle or baywatch babe and it made fitting in much easier, the only person concerned about my ability was me.

My ability was mixed, I was pleased with my strength but frustrated with my aerobic ability. I know I've been through a lot and my body is doing remarkable things but my aerobic stamina cost me a great deal of time last time I tried to sort it out. I think that the fact I've done it before is a massive help to me but it's still a daunting hill to climb. Best get my crampons on.

Yesterday I had a trip into work, dad drove which was a massive help as although I felt a lot better than I thought I would after my work out Monday I was still aware that controlling two tons of metal was more taxing than controlling 18 stone of bald Yorkshireman on the bus! It was lovely to see people at work, it wasn't a social I hadn't got enough to see everyone that I wanted to (sorry Belinda) I had a form that needed signing too but it was brilliant to see the people I did. Some looked straight through me, but then I do look very different to last time they saw me, bald of head and bald of chin too!

All in all it's been a reet good week so far, I'm tired today from not sleeping very well but otherwise I feel great, even walked to the corner shop without having to stop for breath tonight! I want to keep at this level of improvement if I can, not sure what I can do to help but I'll keep doing what I am so far.

Heavenly

2010-10-31T19:12:00.003Z

It's been a great week. The girls were on holiday and mum and dad had them to stay for a couple of nights which was great, we love the girls but every now and again it's nice to have a bit of a lay in!

Wednesday Gwyn, Drew and Simon (Gwyn's eldest) called round. Now for all the times we've visited them in Wales this was the first time for Gwyn and Drew to call in on us. It was wonderful, when old friends meet and the conversation flows and the laughter is raucous. Simon has a wonderfully quick and dry sense of humour and it was such a relief to have conversations that focussed on others peoples lives and topics away from hospital and illness.

Yes we spoke of my time in hotel Hallamshire and I found it very strange as I'd forgotten things about my stay, maybe I'd blanked them out or my head had come up with a coping strategy. Whatever it was it felt very strange knowing that my memory was playing tricks. But overall the conversation was about life, normal life and normal dreams and normal ups and downs.

We ventured into town and found another wonderful meal at Aagrah. The strawberry beer before certainly hit the spot for me and the conversation and laughter were as much a tonic as any drug could ever be. It was just wonderful.

Thursday I felt good, a little tired but not exhausted, so we thought it'd be nice to go for a drive and get a butty and sit and watch the world go by. Well we got 2 miles from home and it was enough, it wasn't anything serious but my concentration was suffering and as Wend doesn't drive I couldn't ask her to take over. We bought a butty and headed home to chill. The chilling took me to bed, it took Wend to Morrisons!

Wendy made a fab kedgeree and we drank a bottle of wine, the decadence of not having the kids around............

Friday morning was a little steady for me, I had a funny little headache which was related to how fast my movements were. I think traditionally this sort of ailment would be called a hangover! It didn't interfere with my visit to Weston though. I have been setting myself little targets all the way through this experience, be it walking to the loo or brushing my teeth without any pain. A big target for me has been waiting for the consultant to say we'll see you in two weeks, to me it's a sign of progress, a sign that my body is fighting back. Well it's happened, no appointment this Friday! It felt amazing just like reaching the top of a climb or getting a new job or when the person you fancy says yes to a second date. A weight was lifted, I stood a little taller with a bigger smile than previously imaginable.

The up wasn't to stop there, a short walk over to the Hallamshire to see the Physio department was to be the icing on the cake. Last year I craved a structured return to fitness, something supported by someone who knew what they were doing rather than me beating myself into the floor. This time as I have had a transplant there is such a rehabilitation scheme which is run by the physio team at the Hallamshire.

Jo was amazingly patient and sympathetic to my impatience. Suggesting that she had seen people like me before and that although she hadn't been through anything like I had she was very understanding. She even laughed at my jokes.......I think anyway! My regime starts Monday so we'll see if I survive to tell any tale worth telling, or not as the case may be.

All this up was tempered with a little down on Saturday. We went to the pictures which was brilliant, more normality, a family going to the pictures as a treat for the end of the holidays. It all went really well until we tried to get home, an ambulance had broken down on the tram tracks which meant we had to find a bus. Walking up through town was hard, concentrating on the traffic, the crossings and the crowds made it even harder. I was starting to feel tired and stressed just as the student in an overgrown babygrow asked me for a donation. I told him no thank you, we choose a charity at the start of the year and give to them, he rattled his box and said it's a worthy cause. I replied no thank you again, to which he said any coppers will do. It just got to me the noise the people the hill that I'd never previously felt so the response was 'which bit of no do you not understand?' I know he was trying his best and he'd probably been there a while and was fed up with it all but it riled me and the fact it riled me riled me even more. If I hadn't been with the girls I don't know where the meeting of minds would have led.

It was disappointing for me because it showed how close to knackered I am. I'm learning, even when my head feels good think several times about doing anything physical. I've had a fantastic week with a little blip just to remind me of where I've come from. Next week is next week and that's where I'm going so that's what I'm focussing on. The future. Loving the now and am looking forward to the tomorrow.

All quiet on the 'Weston' front!

2010-10-21T16:21:00.005+01:00

It's been a quiet week on the medical front. Well except for the tube up the nose treatment I had on Friday last week, they were looking for bugs and so the best place is the back of the nose in a cavity which I was unaware of! Not the nicest thing to have done, a tube up your nose which then taps at the back of the cavity when it's in far enough! They have suction on and a little catchment bottle into which the bogies and snot gather! Unfortunately they didn't get enough out of my right nostril so into the left they went, amazing how much your eyes can water...........

Monday was a bit of an event, I walked to school to pick up the girls with Wend. It was weird and amazing at the same time, seeing the teachers and the kids and how things have changed since my last visit.

Tuesday was a bigger event, parents evening. I made the effort to walk up again and I was so glad I did. It was hard work on my part as Georgia's class is now on the top floor of the school, something that in the past would have been a quick jog was now like Everest, slow and steady was the way and I made it without my heart pounding out of my chest too much.

Meeting Georgie's teacher was an absolute pleasure, her work has improved no end. Georgia not the teacher..... The feedback the teacher gave was great, she tries hard and is always polite and will work with anyone in the class. Her levels, that they measure children by, were little miss average but to me it's the way she works and how she interacts with the rest of the class that is more important the a tick in a box.

Carys' teacher is newly qualified and lovely but she looks knackered at the end of her first half term. I remember the feeling well, counting down the days and the hours until you can have a lay in or a proper night out, just to recharge the batteries before the next onslaught. Carys' report was great, her levels were great and her work was amazing considering her years. She also got praise for the way she worked within the class and how she interacts with the other kids.

So there we are proud as punch, our kids have got great reports from their teachers and given the year they've had it's an amazing testament to them and to Wend. We wandered across the yard and had a chat with one of the assistant head teachers. We thanked them for their help and support and praised the teachers and Georgia's in particular, she has experience of cancer in her family and has been a great support to George. The assistant head said that they were happy to help and people wanted to help the girls because they're such good kids and they're polite and lovely to work with! This is when the heart pounds and the pride inside grows.

I have praised kids at school for good lessons and they throw it back at you by being rubbish the next time. Our kids are different they get the truth about everything. My memory isn't good enough to lie anyway! So we praised them, we told them the truth we hugged them and thanked them and loved them. I also told Wendy that I have the utmost admiration for her, she's incredible and she still doesn't know how incredible she is. She's kept life real for the girls and kept routine and normality as much as possible.

The next day I crashed, I was grumpy, distant and generally irritable. I was short with the girls and distant with Wend. I had nothing left, I thought I was doing well but the truth was that I couldn't cover up my emotions. Wendy's honesty gave me a much needed kick up the bum though, it's hard hearing home truths but they needed saying. I needed it, as I can paint a very black picture when I'm tired. I have to be careful, I have to listen to my body but I almost have to pre-empt being tired. So today was a very chilled out relaxed kind of day. I'm still tired but I have to remember how much I've been through and how far I've come. Progress is being made but it's slower than I want it to be, patience grasshopper.........

Think, just think

2010-10-11T16:30:00.005+01:00

If I worked on the average time to stay in isolation then I'd be coming out of hospital tomorrow. This is the fact I have to remember, I've had 8 extra days of freedom and I have to keep that in mind when I'm feeling fed up.

I was fed up on Friday as my blood counts had dropped to levels which started to cause concern. We had been warned that this may happen and I'd also started on another medication which can have the side effect of dropping my blood counts. None of these known facts prepared me for the disappointment that was printed on the piece of paper in front of me. There were columns of numbers and some had stars by them, these were the problem areas, a bit like getting a poor mark at school. I felt like I'd failed, I'd let people down, I'd let myself down. There was nothing I could do about it other than stop the medication, take it easy and rest my body and wait to see if there was an improvement by Monday.

Today is Monday and my bloods have recovered, they're better, they're up to a level that they would expect and that is safe for me to live a bit more of a normal life. Well, normal as in staying awake all day and maybe walking up stairs without the room spinning or being completely out of breath. I also mentioned that my resting heart rate was a great deal higher than I'd expect it to be. When we started on the road that is cancer my resting heart rate was 60 beats per minute. Granted I was riding to work and running and being generally very active and now I'm amazingly inactive. Plus I've had bucket loads of chemicals pumped into my body and that's going have an effect.

But and it's a big but, I forget that I've been inactive for so long, I forget that I've had six months of treatment. Weeks and weeks of time in hospital months of sitting on the sofa and an incredible amount of drugs, thank goodness for National Insurance!

I also have to remember and I was reminded vividly today, that there's always someone worse off than you. Because of my fragile immune system we go straight to the teenage unit so that I'm not exposed to too many coughs and colds of the general waiting area. The teenage unit is a humbling place, young people who've had short lives living through a massive challenge. One young lady was talking with a visitor, without being rude it was difficult not to overhear. The radio therapy she was receiving had damaged her throat and she was struggling to eat. She'd been rushed in because of the damage and it would mean a stay in over the weekend, the weekend of her birthday. A night down town had been planned and her mates were looking forward to all the festivities. All this information was shared with the visitor, a visitor of another patient. But the amazing thing was how mature she was offering advice on how to cope with the weird situation of patient-visitor relationships, thoughts on life and relationships outside of the hospital and life in general. It was a very selfless conversation on her part, perhaps it was a relief to talk about something other than her illness. I don't know but I hope she gets better before the weekend.

Like I've said before Weston park is one of those weird places where you see all walks of life going through an incredible experience. Incredibly hard physically and emotionally. I'm tired and fed up of it now I want my life back. But I have to think how much I've gone through, how much my family and friends have gone through and how far I have come. Think about taking it one hour at a time and getting better at a speed that suits my body. It's going to take time and patience but I have to think of the future.

I'm home.

2010-10-06T20:05:00.005+01:00

Monday morning and it's doctors round time. Sunday had been ok my bloods had come back as being better than expected and so they'd said I'd be allowed out of the room and to the lift atrium. Walking to the nurses station was far enough, laying in a bed for the last three weeks or so has messed with my muscles and they've lost ability, I won't say definition as that's not really what my temple is like!

The blood count is what matters at this stage, whether I have a certain number of platelets or white blood cells. The doctors decided that as my bloods were good enough I could go home. It was as quick as that, from being allowed out of the isolation room to be allowed home in the matter of hours. My head was spinning, the emotions were so mixed, the safety of the hospital and the isolation but the joy of going home. The risks associated with coming home are minimal but the benefits way outweigh them.

The emotional support that watching my girls screaming down the path to hug me and sitting on the sofa being held down by the dog is magic. Watching Wendy sorting everything out is hard though. I'm on a serious case of rest, so I'm meant to be waited on hand and foot, the only thing I'm allowed to do is wipe my a*se. Wouldn't wish that on anyone though!

Nutritionally it's a world apart being home, the food is damn fine, it's tasty and made with love. My mouth is much better than it has been, it doesn't hurt now but there's still a distinct lack of saliva which makes bread and dry products a real no no. Imagine eating loads of cream crackers without drinking anything, that's what it's like from the first mouth full. So it's juicy food from here on in for a while, Wend makes a fab risotto and boy did that hit the spot, my stomach has shrunk which may be a blessing in disguise but doesn't help when you have a lovely dish of food in front of you!

So today we went for a check up, bloods taken and a private waiting room so we're not exposed to the great unwashed! After the usual wait we went down for the consultation.

First question from the consultant wasn't how are you or any problems? Nope it was, so we did have any chemo therapy then? It threw me for a second or two but then the blood results came out of the file. Not only have I been one of the quickest to be sent home but my platelets were the highest at this point of treatment than anyone's ever had before. Usually they expect a count of 20 by day 20 and 50 by day 50. Today my platelet count was 138! How or why I have no idea but it was.

So the next two weeks it's rest and recuperation, another check up on Friday and then all being well weekly check up's. Then it's get better, get fit and get on with my life. I'm scared that something will go wrong but I'm not going to dwell on it, too much. This is the risky bit, while my bloods are still weak (comparatively) I have to be careful of not catching a cold or getting an infection of any sort as it could make the last three weeks of life a little pointless! Oh well we see what the next few weeks bring and how my body recovers.

It's been f*cking hardwork

2010-10-02T19:35:00.007+01:00

Apologies for not posting before but it's been a bit up and down the last couple of weeks. Well a lot of down and lots of little heart shaped highs but mostly down.

They said this was high dose treatment and boy oh boy they weren't kidding. I can't put into words how it's felt as I have nothing to compare it with, it's so much worse than man flu it's just not funny. But when you're out of breath having walked to the toilet and showering means taking a nap after (there's a lot to shower but that's not the point!) to recover it's pants. Walking like a really old person shuffling my feet along didn't bring joy to Wendy's heart either.

I have no idea what I would have done without her unbelievable support. The love hearts are such an amazing thing to do, to have the idea and then go round people and ask for their thoughts or comments. But then she brought them a little at a time, not all at once just a few everyday and it's just been the highlight of my life. The things people have written are giving me an emotional strength that I didn't know existed. They've prompted some good outbursts of tears, cheers Jase you really know how to make a grown man cry!

It's been hardest for those few lucky enough to be visiting, Wendy, mum and dad. They have seen me at my lowest they have seen the days when I have slept and slept and slept. They have seen the blood drain from my face and the injections and the bags of chemicals going into someone they love. Which are there to kill off the most basic thing a human needs after food and water, their immune system. I'm lucky as ever because the nursing staff are looking after me, the doctors are trying to keep me alive and give me more life than no treatment would bring and if I sleep then I sleep and no one interrupts that except for injections or blood letting or observations.

I have had a good couple of days yesterday and today, I've actually drunk some fluids. Prior to this weekend my mouth was sore like the back of beyond. Most people know of the sensation when they've had a couple too many the night before and it feels like a budgerigar has moved in over night, well this little blighter had razor blades on the bottom of his feet. Not good, my mouth wouldn't open fully, speech was slow and slurred and it hurt like fucking hell. Sorry for the language but it did. The only people going near my mouth were the ones who could prescribe the good drugs, cocaine mouthwash was underwhelming as it happens!

My tummy has been a bit upset by the lack of foods, mind you it was very upset by the food it started out on, lets just say trumping has been a bit of a lottery..........I'll leave that for you to decipher.

The best day for me was Thursday. Wendy's birthday, although it would have been better waking up next to her in our bed in our house, it was fabulous seeing her dressed up to go out for lunch and I managed to time being a bit brighter with her visit. I just want to take the hurt from her heart and the girls hearts too, tie it to a rocket and launch it into space. Anyway she had a nice time and looked beautiful and the girls did a fabulous job of getting some surprises sorted for her, I'm so proud of them.

I don't want to make light of the last couple of weeks as I feel better today because it's been the worst couple of weeks of my life. But out of the worst weeks have come the best emotions, the most support the most admiration for human kind. The hearts have been a talking point for staff and myself and they've been a constant support when I wake in the middle of the night and I start to wonder. I read and I wonder no more.

Hearts

2010-09-26T10:00:00.000+01:00

Hello it's Wend here, Nick has asked me to post a little update. Basically he had his stem cell transplant last Wednesday. He has been pretty poorly ever since. He is managing to sleep lots, and we are trying to take it a day at a time. He is an inspiration to me with his courage and determination, and it breaks my heart every day to see him suffer. But he retains his unique sense of humor you'll be pleased to know!

The main things he has asked me to pass on are apologies if he does not reply to text messages. But mostly thanks for the messages of love and support he has received. Below is a picture of some of the hearts he has received in his room. Please keep your messages coming they give him so much strength. You can either sent them to me at home or to Nick Hart, Ward P4, Royal Hallamshire Hospital. Thank you. x

Ick

2010-09-24T06:57:00.004+01:00

Ok so things are kicking in and my tummy is rubbish. Crap night being sick 'til there was no more! Will try to get blog up to date. Use the time wisely!

Hotel Hallamshire

2010-09-19T18:53:00.003+01:00

Ok so I'm here in my room with a stunning view. I can see Houndkirk moor and Holmesfield and Porter Clough from my window.

I can also see a whole load of love and best wishes. Wendy had gone round friends and family and the neighbours and given out love hearts so they could write a little comment on for me to read. It's such a brilliant idea as they're now on my wall in my room and they get read everyday bringing me hope and happiness.

A couple of them have quotes which I think are brill, the first is Dr Seuss the second I'm not sure but it made me sob the first time I read it and it still sits there to remind me how lucky I am.

"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind,
Some come from ahead and some from behind.
But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have trouble with me."

"In a world of misunderstanding,
tell you one thing I know.
It's a rich rich man,
who has a hand to hold."

By that I'm a very rich man.

Being alive is BRILLIANT

2010-09-14T10:50:00.005+01:00

It's been an excellent couple of weeks, except for having a bit of a cold, not man flu I assure you!

It has been emotional because in the back of all our minds is the coming stint in hospital which is a massive unknown. I'm sure my body can cope, it's been through so much but it's still going, which is nice. Whether my head gets through the coming weeks is a bigger question, yes I have to stay positive and not give up, I don't like giving up. But there are going to be days when my emotions get the better of me and I just want to get out and get my life back.

That's the brilliant bit, we've had a bit of a glimpse as to how our life was and how it could be again. I've eaten curry and drunk beer with my dear friends. I've driven the car again, not far but it's been nice doing a bit. I've done a little DIY (amazing for a technology teacher and the shelf is still up 3 days later!). We've been to the park as a family and I pushed my kids on the swings. I've made Wendy breakfast in bed, I was knackered for the rest of the day but the pancakes were pretty good, even if I do say so myself! I've even thought about engineering problems and teaching and a future. A future where I'm not holding the sofa down, one where we're travelling round Scotland on a motorbike, where we're packing the car up to go on holiday, one where I'm running and biking again and feeling fit.

Anyhow that's all in the future. For now I concentrate on getting through the next few weeks and not forgetting to write Wendy's birthday card........

Next year Wend's birthday is going to be great, not sure what I'm going to do for it but it needs to be special.

Being alive is brilliant, yes sometimes it hurts when you stub your toe or Carys looks into your soul and says "I'm just so worried about you." But being alive means I'm here to have those sensations and to feel the wind on your face and to be there for Carys to hold her and try to reassure her. To tickle Georgia til she falls off the sofa and to to hold Wendy while we watch a film on tv.

I'm aiming to be alive for a while longer an I have to keep that in mind when my emotions get the better of me. Keep those feelings surrounding my heart to protect it to keep it safe from the demons that my head and hospital food conjure up.

I have amazing friends and family and it's them that will have the hardest time coming up. I send my love to you all and thank you for your support so far. I need you now as you need each other.

....... to down and then back up

2010-09-06T19:55:00.003+01:00

Then results day.

The usual waiting and waiting ensued, we chatted and people watched and waited. Then it was us, we have stopped second guessing results as it's too hard emotionally. Having said that I was feeling very relaxed after the good week I'd had.

So the results. The chemo is continuing to have an effect, the lump is now 64mm x 56mm down from 75mm x something else! This is great news, it means that we can go for the high dose chemo and the stem cell transplant now.

Then came the talk about the high dose chemo which scared the pants off me. It really gave me an awful feeling, being in hospital for a minimum of 3 weeks with a minimum of 2 weeks in isolation with restricted visiting, no kids. Maybe 6 weeks in hospital. With possible risk of viral infection, fungal infection or infection from my bodies own bugs. Possibly 6 to 12 months before my immune system is back to normal. Infections can turn from an infection to death in a matter of days, so any little tickle etc is taken really seriously.

This was the time my sense of humour left. I felt like the colour drained out of me and my smile disappeared again.

Now as I write this my smile is back but it's strained at times. I'm knackered and I'm bloody scared. I don't want to be away from my family again and I certainly don't want to be ill.

But and it's a big but they haven't told me to measure up for a box and they're doing all this to me to give me more life so I take it on the chin and get through it. I'm sure my body can do it I need to convince my head it's a good idea though!

Down to back up.........

2010-09-06T19:25:00.004+01:00

The rest of the week was an existence for me, I didn't want to swing from manically happy to manically sad so I tried to stay in the middle. I managed some success with that but I was almost too successful.

As we sat in bed drinking tea Wend asked how 'How did we get here? When we have nothing to say to each other?' I volunteered that it hadn't been a normal summer and that as we're together so much during the day we have few new topics of conversation. Wend asked where my smile had gone, why didn't I laugh anymore.

Then it happened, it all came out in a massive sob. All the negative thoughts and feelings I have, I hate being stabbed everyday for an injection to thin my blood, I hate going to the toilet as it hurts like bloody hell sometimes, I hate going to the hospital, I'm scared of what's next, I hate seeing the hurt in Wend's eyes when she looks at this ill baldy bloke lay next her, I hate feeling shit, I hate that the kids walk past me and go to Wend for an opinion on something, I hate being knackered after walking up stairs, I want to travel, I want to work, I want to be intimate with my wife, I hate having tubes sticking out of my chest, I hate that the bloody clips on the tubes (obviously designed by a bloke) have sharp corners which stick in my nipples when I move or am asleep, I want to ride my bike, I want to plan, I want a motorbike, I want my life back. I want my f*cking life back.

Any how my sobs didn't go unheard and all of a sudden there was a pile of crying Harts on the bed. I apologised to George as I am hard on her but I expect too much sometimes and I see how similar she is to me and I want to give her the shortcuts that took me so long to learn. We held each other like only a family who feels can, that tight desperate clinging that would hurt but the pain our hearts feel over rides it.

It seemed to be a very therapeutic crying session though because as the day went on my mood lifted, why I don't know but it did. It felt like a weight had been lifted, I didn't keep all the feelings in on purpose I just didn't want to voice them.

Bank Holiday Monday was going to be a joint party for little Lola, (my sister, Viv's second) and for George which Viv had very kindly organised. Unfortunately the snot fairy had been to Viv's house and delivered streaming candles and bogey bubbles to the kids. Definitely a no go zone for me. The girls had been wanting to go out on their bikes for ages now and so we called on the dynamic duo of ma n pa to see if they'd take us somewhere suitable.

Rother Valley country park is an old open cast pit on the outskirts of Sheffield, technically Rotherham, which although it doesn't sound attractive is a brilliant place to visit. Since the coal lot pulled out they flooded it and made it into part nature reserve and part watersports venue. They've landscaped it and over the years it's matured into a really nice place to go, so off we went!

Dad and I drank coffee and watched the dinghy's and the kayaks playing in the sun and Wend and mum took the girls round the main boating lake. It was heavenly, watching the world go by, the clacking of ropes on masts and the lapping of the water on the pontoon. A real change and a real lift.

That week was to be a great week, mostly. The CT scan on Tuesday required no nasty drink and no cannular and as a result it took five minutes instead of the usual hour and five. I felt great afterwards so got on the bus and went to meet mum in town. Feeling great I thought I'd look for a new telly, I'd seen one with 300 pounds knocked off so I thought I'd spend the money that people have collected for me from work (truly amazing and so touching it made me cry, shocking!). Walked in, the shop had one that had been delivered and then returned as the customer hadn't understood what they were buying, so the shop took it back and knocked a further 70 quid off it! Done, bought it, gone digital. I didn't want to go digital but we have done and now we have 99 channels of repeats and dross!

Daddy, daddy, daddy

2010-08-28T16:13:00.008+01:00

The cheerful shouts from Carys five days earlier were now being repeated but the tone was different. It was a panicked, tearful shout from the little one as I got in the car to travel home. I felt sick, sick to the stomach, regret as I had to leave to come home for more treatment. No it wasn't my fault but it still felt like it as we drove up the coast.

Jase was driving half way and then dad was picking me up for the second half of hairy bloke relay! I wasn't the most conversational of passengers which must have been hard for Jase as we passed through the stunning countryside up the coast and then into the mountains. I'd eased up by then and although not my usual verbal self the time passed quickly and all of a sudden we were handing over and travelling back into England.

Starting chemo always feels strange, regardless of the stage, but this was different. It felt like groundhog day, it felt like hard work, even though all I was doing was sitting there having drugs pumped into me same as before it was hard. Thankfully I was on the ward again and sharing with someone I'd met before, it's weird but nice in a strange way having someone familiar there. There are conversations that can carry on and you have a new conversation topic, progress. If there is any progress or what they plan to do next, sometimes it's good news other times it's not so good but it's still news to share and that's a new conversation to have.

The stay on the ward went, Mark came up, mum and dad visited regularly and I spoke to Wendy and the girls daily. The food stayed the same, still good quality but the same, my appetite dropped off and my legs and arms swelled up. Liquid retention is a big problem with some chemo treatments, but then they are pumping a great deal of liquid into a body which is struggling to cope. To counteract this retention a water tablet is one possible solution, to be taken with water! Now I'd had no prior reason to take a water tablet and so it's effects would be something new. So I thought, taking it in the evening was a real pain as it starting working pretty much straight away. The first night I was up six times passing up to a litre each time. By the morning I was shattered and two kilo's lighter! But still it worked, up and down up and down jug in hand. Pee, measure, record, drink, measure, record, pee, measure, record repeat until tired and then repeat some more. Like I say groundhog day.

The highlight was the return of the girls, brown and happy they swung into an empty ward room as everyone else had gone home. No bad thing as there was a cantankerous old racist and an ex army chef who seemed to have a word or fifteen to say about everyone or everything.

Coming home was as usual a tonic, our bed, our bathroom, Wendy's cooking. Just heavenly after what had been my hardest stay in Weston park. It turned out to be my lowest week at home since starting out on, furball 2 return of the lump!

Last years wedding anniversary hadn't been much to write home about, it was lovely and we'd been for a meal but it was just after treatment and it was a short evening. I think we even talked about this years being better!

Well I got it wrong, I didn't buy a card and I didn't buy a present. Wrong, wrong wrong on so many levels wrong. I used to be romantic buying flowers and things, sending cards and even doing a mix tape at one point (for younger readers a tape is something that used to store music maybe 90 minutes at a time!). But I'd lost myself in the bubble that was my self pitying head. I wrote Wend a message but I didn't even know if it made sense, I read it and re-read it but I felt like I was hallucinating while I was reading it so anything could have been there.

It was one of those days, it wasn't the day I wanted it to be and it wasn't the happiest of days but I was at home and that meant something. It just wasn't how either of us wanted it to be, we decided that next year we'll spend our anniversary in Paris. It gives us a year to save and for me to get well.....

A great day

2010-08-26T20:19:00.014+01:00

What birthday?

Beautiful birthday girl.

Morning after boy.....

A busy Pembrokeshire beach!

Surfs up duuuuuude.

Just happy to be there.

Cake number 2!

Cake number 3!!

I'll let the pictures do the talking on this one. Just to say it was an amazing day with family and friends on a beautiful beach. No the cake numbering isn't wrong it's just there's been plenty of cake over the summer!

Aber Station

2010-08-26T20:01:00.003+01:00

Nowt more to say!

The missing present

2010-08-17T21:27:00.003+01:00

So the journey was on, 6.10am taxi to Sheffield station, 6.50am train to Birmingham New Street, 8.50am ish train to Aberystwyth and then pick up in Bill's car to Boncath.

I haven't chosen to get up at 5am for a very very long time and it was a somewhat rude awakening but the goal would be worth it. The journey was great, it's a while since I have been far and watching the world wizz past the window was great. It also allowed me to see some of the beautiful countryside that I usually miss as I'm driving down to Wales. Mountains and fields and estuaries filled with various forms of wildlife, from the lowly (worried looking) sheep of the hills and valleys to the herons and little egrets of the rivers and estuaries. Stunning.

Wendy's dad, Bill, was to meet us at Aber station with the girls who were still in the dark about us coming down. They'd been told that they had to do an errand for Uncle Jase and that there was a steam train at Aberystwyth station that they could go and see. I waited on the train as an overexcited Wendy stepped onto the platform expecting to see them but they weren't there so I got off before hoards of people trampled me as they boarded the train. As it happened Bill was only a few minutes away and as Wendy saw his car pull in she charged down the station at top speed causing the station master to hold the train he thought she was late for! I stayed on the platform with the bags and waited.

After the hugs and kisses in the car park Wendy told George that she'd left a present on the platform for her and they had to go back and get it. The girls ran on the platform and were looking for a present, as they ran George looked at me and then looked away, then she did the same again. On the third time she looked I stuck my tongue out at her and smiled. It was such a shout, DADDY, then I heard Carys behind shouting the same daddy daddy daddy. I opened my arms and held my girls tight and we sobbed. The release of emotions flooded over me and I didn't care about anything, just holding those precious little people in my arms was everything at that moment.

We had a great journey down, a bit of traffic and one fool passing in stupid places but other than that it was a car full of excited chatter and laughter. The feeling of relaxation drifting through me as I sat there watching the world go by listening to the girls and their stories and feeling so incredibly lucky.

The luck continued later that day. After a meeting of oncologists and radiologists it had been decided that the areas on my lung which the day before were a cause of concern were NOT a cause for concern. Yes they'd keep their eyes on the areas and monitor them but the decision had been made to carry on with the treatment as it had been planned. The bearer of this news was Debbie the nurse specialist on the other end of the phone. Thank goodness for mobile phones!

It's difficult to convey how it feels when you get good news. This one phone call meant that the lump is responding to treatment. Full stop. No but's and no uncertainties. It was Wendy's face that summed it up for me, it was a mixture of disbelief and happiness and disbelief and happiness and relief and the look of someone having a weight lifted from their shoulders. To me it felt good. As the cancer adverts go on the telly, "today was a good day."

Harvesting and mixed results

2010-08-13T19:57:00.004+01:00

Ok so the idea of being harvested was a little weird for me to get my head round. More the process than the actuall principle, always one for the mechanics of a situation I wasn't keen on my blood leaving my body........

Any way the morning blood count was excellent, they look for a count of above 10 with something they call CD34, well my count was 285! This meant that the GCSF injections I've been having and the bone pain that was a side effect had been worth it. The GCSF stimulates the bone marrow to produce more stem cells than t needs and therefore they then pass throught he bones and into the blood stream, hence the pains!

After a very quick breakfast and a strange taxi ride to the Hallamshire it was into the extremely busy lift to ride to level O. As normal in Sheffield someone sparked a general conversation into the crowded lift, "smells like cabbage for lunch then" and as normal when I'm nervous I had to respond "oh sorry that was me........" fortunately some people found it funny! As the display changed to O the lift juddered and then dropped to N! got the blood pumping I can tell you, not sure if that was planned but the flipping thing then went all the way down to the bottom again!

The process of harvesting was simple, painless and quite boring. The machine is coupled up to the now clear hickman line and draws blood one way, it then spins the blood in a glorified salal spinner, then it's mixed with an anti-coagulant and pumped back into me. When it's being spun the different parts seperate as they are of a different weight. This allows them to collect the stem cells as they're the heaviest and get flung to the outside ready for collection. Simple really! The only sensation I had was from the anti-coagulant as it affects the calcium levels and gives a tingling feeling in the face and then if left the rest of the body. This is counteracted by, in my case approxiamately 2 pints of milk and a fizzy calcium tablet! Three and a half hours later and it was done, they'd also collected a bag of plasma along with the stem cells to help with storage so looking at the bags I felt a little drained, fine but drained.

So having returned to the ward I was free to return home only to return the next day for the results of the CT scan. Mixed was the best way to describe them.

The stem cell harvest was a success, for it to be successful they need a count of 2.5, well they harvested 22.75 from me! Linda, my consultant had asked them to double check as they're not used to such high numbers! Ooh get me the stem cell king!

The main lump in my chest has responded well to treatment and they're pleased with that.

They've found two really small anomolies in my lung.

Bugger. Lymphoma on the lung is not the results I wanted. I have become able to turn off the expectant part of my brain when it come sto results day, too many roller coaster rides. I go with the attitude it'll be what it is and we go from there, either I'm just tired of it all or it's a self preservation technique. They're only small, 8mm and 10mm but they're there none the less. This meant a change of chemo regime and a more toxic set of drugs.

Oh and go to Wales! Linda was well aware that it's Georgias birthday this weekend and that a large hairy bloke being in hospital on his eldest daughters birthday wouldn't be good for morale and mental health. With this latest news about the lung thing she felt it worth while me having a bit of a break and going to Wales with Wend. I had initial reservations as it meant travelling away from the safety net that is Weston Park. But how could I refuse the offer? I couldn't, the thought of being with all my girls and the hound was too much, the tickets were booked as was the taxi and big Nick was on his way to Welsh Wales with his beautiful and extremely giddy wife.

In and out and back in then back out

2010-08-11T20:12:00.005+01:00

Ok so the heart had taken a bit of beating but the head was feeling great, I was tired, well probably knackered is a better description! Then the pain started, it just felt like my nephew Jacob had tackled me and was sat on my chest. (Jacob's 17 but 6 foot three or so and a great rugby player) My breathing was strained and moving from one position to another was bloody painful. It felt like my rib cage was being crushed and I couldn't do anything about it.

The sensible thing to do was ring Weston Park and see what they say but I was loathed to do it, I'd only just come home and it was only Tuesday afternoon and I'd arranged with mum to take Wendy and me to a little cafe in the peaks. I could almost taste the millionaires shortbread as we drove to Weston!

The thing with turning up unexpected at Weston is the nurses and the rest of the staff all ask "what are you doing here?" they all care and they take an interest in all their patients. So as we walked along the ward Wend and mum looked at each other as though the favourite naughty student had just turned up again!

I had another bed on a ward in the corner next to the loo, not the best place but makes my midnight wanderings shorter! I was monitored and prodded and listened to and monitored some more. I just wanted to be at home with Wendy just chilling out and relaxing before I had to have another CT scan on Thursday. This scan would tell us which way we were going with my treatment plan and how the cancer was responding or if it was responding. This was the last thing my emotions could cope with and it was with silent tears that I opened a book Wendy had bought me and I lost myself in someone else's adventure.

Guy Greave had been just another bloke working in just another cube farm in Scotland when he decided to go and live in Alaska int he woods and build himself a log cabin and survive the winter alone. It was a gripping read and really well written, when I was a boy I remember a book in which a boy goes off to the woods and builds himself a cabin. Since then I've always wanted to build one, the book showed the boy digging a foundation and filling it with stones, cutting the logs and then laying a floor of bracken. He did it all alone. Guy Greave ended up getting help from locals and using their knowledge, tools and even dogs. It was how he succeeded, the local knowledge was invaluable and it led to amazing friendships. The only fly in the ointment of the book was he left his wife and kids, not permanently but for a year. Through choice, his own free choice. He wrote of how hard it was and I believe him but I still don't understand, leaving for such a period of time for something which could easily have killed him. Oh well it's a great book and it got me through a difficult couple of days.

I had already got an appoinmtent for the CT scan booked for the Thursday and as much as I wanted to go home the pain hadn't gone fully, so it was decided I stay in Wednesday night and then go home after my scan. All being well!

It was the first time I've looked forward to a scan, waiting in the waiting room it was also the first time the scanning staff had been late. Having asked at reception a member of staff came round and told me I should have been waiting somewhere else, even though for the prior six appointments I'd waited in the same place as today! Oh well, I'm only itching to get home.....

A couple of days at home and then it was back in Sunday night so they could asses my blood's suitability for harvesting stem cells at 6am Monday morning. Fun fun fun. To be honest other than being nervous about the harvest it was the easiest visit to Weston I've had. The only problem was being away from Wend for another night but as there were to be no surprises or chemo then I thought it'd be easy peasy lemon squeezy!

And we all know what thought did..........Blood taken, results back and all systems go. Over to the Hallamshire and get hooked up to the machine which will remove my blood, not all at once, seperate off the stem cells and then give the blood back to me. Simple, well it would have been if my hickman line worked as it should! It turns out that my body in it's infinite wisdom had recognised the line as a foreign body and was trying to block the end of it with what could be described as a clot. This clot was acting as a valve allowing liquid in to my body but then covering the tube and stopping liquid going out, not going to leak to death then!

So back to Weston park having not done the harvest, annoyed and worried that the line is faulty or in the worst case scenario it'd have to be removed and replaced. Wendy was resigned to another night home alone and I had to get used to another night of Weston food. It's good but nowhere near as good as Wendy's. They used the hospital equivalent of drain cleaner to clear the blockage, four hours after pumping it down my line they drew it back, it kind of looked like they'd cleared a bloody drain too. Lumpy and full of part dissolved clot within inches of my nose as they drew it through, lovely, but at least it was working. Result.

An Angel, an Owl and another blog

2010-08-11T13:47:00.007+01:00

It was one of those moments, you know, when you've wanted something so much and there it is. With her sun bleached hair and her nicely tanned skin Wendy was an absolute picture when she arrived on the ward. My heart jumped and my head relaxed, she was home my angel was home. It was a better pick me up than any chemically derived product could ever be.

I didn't care that I was still on chemo, or that I was on a ward bored out of my tree Wendy was back and I could do anything now. We talked about her journey and about the girls and how hard it had been for her to leave them in Wales and come back to me. Emotionally she was torn between us and I can understand that. She looked so well and relaxed and happy after her trip, it was kind of how I'd imagined her trip to be, a break from me and the formalities of hospital and visiting times.

Wendy also told me of the girls blog, Twirly Girlies summer adventure is a little blog to record their holiday for me to watch and it's been brilliant seeing them on the beach and eating pizza's and generally enjoying themselves. It even recorded Carys losing another front tooth and yes the Welsh tooth fairy turned up!

Sunday brought more joy and laughter. I came home from treatment in the morning and the feeling of relief was almost overwhelming, just being in our home and being together with Wend was a return to the normality I crave. The afternoon brought the arrival of the Owl, Charlie is one of my best friends, my business partner, riding mate and curry eating companion. Some of which are more difficult now he's moved to New Zealand! Skype is brilliant and has allowed us to talk all the way through his time there but it's not the same and man hugs are not as fulfilling when they're done in a virtual world!

He was on a flying visit to Sheffield having been at his mum and dad's for his dad's 70th he was then flying over to Sweden to get married to his beautiful Swedish fiancee Veronica. It was mixed emotions as we had booked the flight and were going to be there, me as one of the best men, on the island watching two very loved up people getting married. Just not to be.

Charlie (on the left) and Veronica

The visit brought Mark and Jill out of their cosy little home for an evening of banter and curry and beer and wii dancing. I have video evidence and I apologise for some of the language, if easily offended please don't press play!

Mark and Jill set of Monday to catch the ferry and then travel up to the wedding, most of it on their trusty Triumph and the rest car sharing with a half Swedish half Scottish couple! I'm sure there are tales to tell from that trip!

Charlie stayed until Tuesday morning and that was an incredibly painful goodbye. Our friendship is one of those that picks straight up from the moment we meet, there's never any awkward moments and it had been a magic couple of days. Drinking coffee and eating biscuits and generally putting the world to rights as we used to do. Saying goodbye, well I dissolved into an emotional mess so probably didn't even say it, was so difficult. He's back in November so I need to get my a*se in gear and get sorted for then!

Mark and Charlie are my best friends and the love I have for them makes them more like brothers that I never had but without the negatives. I'm a lucky lucky man.

Tuesday turn off my head and hold my heart

2010-08-07T17:23:00.010+01:00

Tuesday morning came and with it the knowledge that my ladies were going for a holiday and I was going for more drugs.

Wendy and the girls were going to the wonderful world of Wales, Wend for a week and the girls for much of the summer holidays, oh and Bertie too! I wanted Wendy to have a break from me and hospital visits and the girls needed to have a proper holiday and time away from the stress of visits and appointments and me not being capable of driving them places or playing with them.

Some people have said it's selfless of me but they have lives too and I want them to live them. I would be in hospital for at least six days and when I'm there I'm looked after and fed and hey what more can you want!

So as with all aspects of our life we'd planned how the departure would work, Dad was coming over to take Wendy and the girls to Brian and Eve's outside of Shrewsbury from where Anita would pick them up. Brian and Eve are just two of the nicest people you could meet and put on a lovely meal for everyone and put up with Bertie being a bit bonkers! Thank you.

Mum came over at the same time to take me up to Weston park so that we all left the house at the same time and there was maximum distraction for everyone. It worked to a point, it hurt like someone ripping part of me off seeing my ladies crying and looking back at me in the car waving. It was the last time I'd hold Wendy for a week and it felt like the better part of me had gone, I felt incomplete, something instantly missing. But I had a job to do so my logical head kicked in, as it sometimes does and it was off to Weston for me and my broken body.

Using the Hickman line was so easy it all became clear why I'd had it fitted. The nursing staff took the covers off the lines and then once they had flushed through using a saline solution they hooked me up to a drip and away it goes, treatment in one easy and hygienic step.

So this is what it'll be like for the next 6 or 7 days? drip in arms free from cannulars, no sensation of the drug going in except for the injection of anti hystemene which almost instantly sends me to sleep. Mum stayed with me for some of the first set of treatment, it's an awkward time for both patient and visitor as depending on how the treatment goes has a great bearing on the conversation! Mum as always was great though, spending a bit of time with me then going and coming back later as I went up to ward three.

Next to the window is superb, my bed for the week, in a room with three other blokes. Much better than the side rooms where all my demons came to rest and my head span from wall to wall. Being in a room with other does mean you get disturbed, snoring and farting and general life noises at night but also there's four drip pumps going all the time and when they are empty or have a problem they bing bong. I still hear it now I'm home bing bonging in my head as I fall asleep. Then there's the unavoidable fact that sometimes someone is a great deal more ill than you are. Yes it made me feel lucky last time I was in but this time all I could feel was the families pain and suffering as they were told the worst news. But then I saw humility and love, the true kind the kind that doesn't have any strings attached just the tenderest kiss on the head of someone suffering so badly. The kiss of a wife who knows her husband is not long for the world. The son holding his dad's hands and wiping his eyes and trying to smile as family gather to offer support and possibly say their own goodbyes.

Selfishly I thought of my ladies and how I hope that they never have to go through that. I don't want to die, I have too much to live for but I don't want Wendy or the girls to suffer the sadness. Nor do I want mum and dad to lose a son, nor Viv a brother and so the list goes on. I don't want to cause pain and suffering, I've worked hard in my life to live causing as little pain as possible believe it or not. I'm not perfect, never been perfect and don't ever want to be but I don't want to put people through it now or ever. Not going to live for ever either but when I'm old and cantankerous it'll be easier for people to say goodbye.

Wow that got a bit deep, for me anyway! To lighten the mood and the mental load I had plenty of visits from friends and family even Jill came to see me and last time she visited a friend she ended up on his bed, not like that! Just because she'd fainted and slid down the wall so I felt honoured. I also had my phone which I could text of talk to Wendy with which was good but not the real thing.

I spoke to the girls every day and although it was incredibly hard to say goodbye every time it was a little lift hearing that they'd been to the beach or that Bertie was misbehaving or that they were having a great time in the garden. Yes they got upset now and again but there's nothing wrong with emotion and I never want to stop them sharing them, that wouldn't be fair. Wendy sounded great, like she was having a bit of time and a bit of fun, she has put so much into supporting me that I wanted her to have some me time, swimming in the sea with the girls and playing and being a fabulous mum.

The week went ok treatment wise, I saw my consultant and we talked about our dogs! My head blew a couple of times but there was no big sobbing this time which was easier for the nursing staff. My knees and face swelled up, possibly due to the amount of liquid going in and less coming out. Measuring wee became part of my daily routine, every time I went I took my jug and recorded the passing. I set a new record too 1150ml's in one go, which I was chuffed about apart from the fact that the jug only holds a litre! I don't get out much so things like this become interesting to me! Why my bladder seemed to work overtime at night I have no idea, when I was awake I may go four times but one night I went six times between 11pm and 6am, great!

Slowly slowly the week managed to drag itself along and then even more slowly it turned from Friday and me saying I'll see you tomorrow, into Saturday with the selfish prospect of Wendy coming home. I didn't sleep much that night, regardless of my bladders idiosyncrasy every fibre of my beaten up and swollen up body was aching for the return of my beautiful wife.

Sorry

2010-08-03T16:51:00.011+01:00

It's been a while since my last update and it's not been through lack of wanting to download my head but because my head has been so full of rubbish.

The sorry actually relates to a member of secretarial staff who cocked up an appointment. Not just a chat appointment either it was for me to have my Hickman line fitted, a permanent line that goes from my shoulder into my chest near my heart in one of the veins. This allows medical staff to draw blood or insert medication easily and without using a cannular.

I was stressed about this, mega stressed actually and the fact that the hospital managed to get the dates wrong for me having the insertion just added to it. It's a good job Wendy had come with me as the stress and my dwindling resource of patience had led to a black mood that I was struggling to climb out of. As it happened the hospital sorted it, they found someone to do the insertion, a lot later than planned but on the same day and the procedure went well. The Hickman line is a stiff plastic tube that is inserted into a vein in the neck guided by ultra sound, uncomfortable and scary as the tube pushes on the outside of your throat as it finds it's way down the vein. They then make a pocket just in front of the collar bone under the skin using another hard piece of tubing, apparently easy on old ladies as their skin is less well attached than mine was! Once they have the pocket they push through from the shoulder to the neck using a stiff plastic rod, as this popped out of my neck I could see it in the corner of my eye waggling about. So the easy but painful bit comes then, attach the tube in the neck to the stiff plastic rod and pull it through. Easy because as a process it is simple, painful because as they are pulling the stiff plastic tube through the skin has to stretch for it to bend and travel under the skin to the shoulder. Not the most comfortable thing I've ever had done by a long chalk!

I'm glad I've had it done though as my veins in my arms are increasingly knackered from all the treatment and even seasoned stabbers are struggling to find veins for blood taking. It's also meant that the chemo treatment just gets connected to these tubes sticking out of my shoulder (I have thought about putting a photo on but I don't want to upset delicate constitutions out there!), once connected the chemicals just plod their way on in through the tube and my arms are free from cannulars.

Anyhow as I was waiting in recovery with Wendy a member of the secretarial staff came through and apologised for the mistake admitting it was her fault. That was it black mood gone, just a wave of gratitude sank through me, this woman had had the integrity to come and hold her hands up and say sorry. It was a big thing to do, we're all brilliant at complaining or putting our point forward but there are not many people who can say sorry. A simple little word that meant so much to me.

So that was Monday, Tuesday brought tears and heartache and drugs galore!

The Bounce

2010-07-26T17:07:00.007+01:00

Well my amazing ladies did it. They bounced on their space hoppers and raised a stack of money for Cancer charities in Yorkshire. I'm so proud of them they give me so much support, emotionally and physically. They are my reason for life.

Pre-bounce freshness

Lots of flat space hoppers, pumping required.

Carys in full flight, well her hair is anyway.

Post bounce pooped

They bounced for a minute to try to set a record but missed it for some reason but then set a new record for the number of people bouncing a quarter of a mile! Carys bounced the full course and was totally bounced out by the end of it.

I feel incredibly blessed to witness the kindness and generosity of people who have given their time or their money to charities. I have also received gifts from work which are incredibly generous and have given me a massive lump in my throat to think people take time out from their busy lives to think about me. Thank you, it means a massive amount to me.

As a dad and a husband I am the luckiest, yes having cancer is sh*t but I have an incredible family who I absolutely adore and they are a constant reminder of how good life can be.

Hair today gone tomorrow (well today actually)

2010-07-23T20:20:00.007+01:00

That's been today and yet all I've done is sit. First I sat in the waiting room for the respiratory lung function test at the Hallamshire. Blow into a machine and keep blowing until you feel a bit odd then blow some more. Then sit in a machine which looks like something Sir Clive Sinclair could have designed and blow then suck then hold then blow some more! The first test looked at my peak flow and the volume I could exhale the second showed how much gas was being passed into my blood stream by my lungs, an efficiency test by all accounts. Both showed I have really good lungs which I'm really pleased about, so my heart is good my lungs are good. Just sort this extra lump in my chest and away we go!

Then I sat and sat and sat some more at Weston park. Not sure why everything took so long this morning but it did and it was a little frustrating but again nothing to get excited about. I had some bloods taken, quite a bit this time, seven vials in all which my battered veins struggled with. They had to use two to get enough blood, mind you the ladies in phlebotomy are amazingly good at getting the red stuff out of you.

The consultation felt like a bit of a blur of information and form signing. It wasn't but it felt like it. It was actually forty minutes of chat about me, how I was doing and what was happening next. Yes we'd waited and waited but then to have forty minutes of a consultants time was better than the health service you hear of. In that time the labs had looked at my bloods and confirmed they were in good shape for the next round of chemo. My head's in a pretty good place too, yes I'm worried about having a line put into my chest but they've done it before and they're experts! I'm worried about the girls going to Wales but it's the best thing for this summer and we're working towards having many more summers so that's how I'm dealing with it. It's a bit like riding up a hill to then have the joy of riding down the other side. The pain will be worth it.

My heads also much more air cooled than before. With the advantage of hindsight I should have hoovered my head before having a shower to save the carnage that was our plug hole. It's a very strange feeling putting hand on head to wash hair just to find most of the aforementioned hair in you hand and sliding down your legs into the bath. It's this loss of hair that get's to Wendy the most I think, it is the visible sign of illness, of the chemical warfare raging in my otherwise pretty bloody healthy body. I look like a thug or a gay biker not sure which. I'll er on the side of thug, personal preferences and all that!

You try hoovering your head and taking a photo!

That's not the half of it!

The weird look is in this summer.

There has to be a big thank you though, Dad offered to take me up to hospital and ferry me and Wend about. Not sure he was over joyed at the eight oclock pick up but then he spent the next four hours waiting for us and taking us here and there. It's special having a dad like that really special and now he has more hair than me...........for now anyway!

Bounce for charity

2010-07-22T16:18:00.003+01:00

Wendy and the girls are bouncing on space hoppers for Yorkshire Cancer Research at the weekend and have already raised a huge amount of money but it's be great if we could give them a bit extra.

They have a just giving web page HERE and it gives any information that I've missed!

It still amazes me how much time and effort people put into raising money and awareness, I'd like to say I'll be bouncing at the weekend but as a walk to the coffee shop wiped me out this morning it's unlikely. I'll hopefully get some photos of the bounce and will post them on here.

Thank you ever so much if you decide to donate or even if you have done already.

Pride

2010-07-21T19:49:00.005+01:00

Today was aspirations day at the girls school. With the help of a very clever and creative nanny they were a chef and an RSPCA officer. This is what makes me proud, they have ideas and thoughts of their own, neither wanted to be a pop star or a footballer or a footballers wife (heaven forbid). They spent time thinking about it, well George did Carys was pretty set on being a chef from the time it was mentioned and is a wonderful little helper int he kitchen cutting and mixing and adding love to cake recipes.

I love our girls and they make me proud. Money can't buy happiness like that.

Summats happening

2010-07-17T20:49:00.004+01:00

Well the hair has started to go anyway. Just started this morning which is good seeing as I had a hair cut the other day! When they asked what I wanted and I said it was all going to fall out anyhow they got the picture. Some people would have left it but my shearer had had a recent scare herself and so we went through all her emotions and how she was quitting smoking and how being positive was the key to all this blah blah blah.

You know sometimes when you want to talk and others when you just want to be silent. I didn't have much option in not talking but I wanted my head to be left alone with it's own thoughts. Oh well it's only three quid for a hair cut there so I wasn't expecting much but hey it got rid of the late 80's bouffant which which sprouting out of the top of my head and going very curly in the process.

I've had a reasonable week all things considered, I'm tired and I get tired easily but I'm able to do bits and have driven the car a couple of times. The sensation of driving is just so freeing, I no longer have the sofa attached to my backside nor do I have the four walls of the house sitting there just watching me, none of this dramatic closing in stuff they're not falling down or anything!

I'm maudling a bit though and getting wrapped up in my body's inability to do what my head wants it to. I don't feel like a very good anything unless you count holding the sofa down. I have to get stuff done and I need to plan my days a little better. I have people to write to and paper work to sort out and and and. But I have an attention span of a year 11 boy, so I need to get my head out of the clouds and into doing stuff.

Anyhow this morning brought good news. After an ECG at the Hallamshire the person doing the scan told us that all the liquid had gone from around my heart. It wasn't unexpected news but it was great news nonetheless, my heart has felt ok for a while now but to have confirmation that all is well is great and it really does mean summats happening.

So one worry down, another to go.......

Naivety got me through last time.

2010-07-14T10:39:00.003+01:00

So I'm going with it this time too. When you have an incredible health service as we do they build up a booklet fetish. These booklets are produced by well meaning professionals in order that the patient has time and information and all the answers they want about their own particular procedure or situation. Unfortunately being a bloke I don't read instruction manuals until I'm stuck or have bits left over at the end!

Part of me is also a massive hypochondriac who if I've heard of a symptom will suffer it or will at least think I'm suffering it! So I'm going to stay blind to many of the symptoms and situations and experience them for me for the first time and then probably write about it on here to get it out of my busy head. Naive, yes. Best way of doing it, not sure but as I haven't done this before it's all a bit of a stumble in the dark.

My head is busy with things like the girls going to Wales for the summer. They'll have a fab time with love and laughter and a fair amount of ice cream thrown in. Anita and Jason's place is a home from home for them and is a wonderful house for kids to be in, loads of fun and noise and space to run around in. I'm going to miss them like I can't describe but I can't think about that, they have to keep living and being in Sheffield visiting me looking probably not very well isn't my idea of a fun summer for them. Wendy will have time in Wales and then come back here, again being here if I'm in isolation is going to be less than fun for her. Yes I always feel better when she's in sight, anything is possible while I can be with her and the worries fade away holding her hand but I want her to live too and living doesn't have to be rubbish it should have a balance.

Physically at the moment I don't feel too bad, my skin is a bit of a mess, bit like some of the kids I teach but not too bad. My guts are suffering as is Wendy's nose. I'm noted for being able to clear a room but this is ridiculous! I'm tired too but hey there's a fair amount of rubbish in my body dancing about trying to kill stuff so I have to bear that in mind when the urge to get on my bike starts over riding the lethargy in my legs. When you have been relatively fit and active the need to move can be frustrating to say the very least. My appetite is good and although I'm still on steroids I'm trying not to eat too much as I don't want to fit the fat jeans I ended up in last time. I'm having incredible cravings for Chinese/Thai/Indian food though and went to sleep dreaming about East One in Sheffield and the kedgeree that Wagamama do.

The worst thing for me at the moment is the worry that the treatment isn't doing anything. I can't see inside me, I have no sensation of the lump, I have no reference point to which I could measure any progress. So I sit, I surf the web and watch terrible telly and I wonder. I wonder about what the furball is doing and I hope that it's having a damn good kicking from the bags and bags of drugs they put into me. I wonder if I could reach in and pull the little furball out because to be honest I'd love it out of me now, I'm bored and fed up of being host to chemical warfare.

Any way winge over, we had great news yesterday. Jason's dad has been told he's in remission and has been given the all clear. It's news that cheers the soul to hear that someone has been through it, survived the treatment and is going to make a recovery is brilliant.

Put the kettle on it's a long one.

2010-07-08T09:21:00.008+01:00

'Return to Weston Park please'.

It's how a trip to Weston starts really, catch the bus up and go for a scan and then catch the bus home. Oh how little I knew then!

Going for a CT scan is part of the process and I even managed the majority of the contrast drink this time, not that it's any nicer just I managed it. Sitting there in the waiting room I felt ok, just waiting for the scan, not worried about the results. I don't think I was thinking about the results just being there was enough for my head.

The scanning process is easy, lay down and enjoy the ride, they tell you to hold your breath at certain points but other than that you're in a slightly surreal world of high technology and slightly old pub style paintings.

Then you wait, you wait with the other people for your cannulars out, to make sure you don't have a turn or start bleeding or something. My cannular came out and I didn't bleed or have a funny turn but I didn't get told to leave. In fact a nice lady came to talk to me!

It turns out they'd found something on my scan, not a huge surprise, but they'd like me to wait for someone to come and see me. Debbie turned up, she's the lymphoma nurse specialist and a point of contact all the way through this saga.

'Come on you're coming to ward 3 with me.' Not the response I expected but who am I to refuse. The surprise was that I'd got a bed, not particularly the target I'd wanted!

Ok so they'd found two things on the scan, the tumour has returned but also, as a brucey bonus I have a pericardial effusion! Now having a limited medical knowledge I kind of worked out it was something to do with my heart but the explanation is much easier really! Everyone's heart sits in a sack of tissue to protect it from rubbing on other organs and the ribs, it just so happens that mine had a large quantity of liquid in it which shouldn't be there.

Now it is probably and most likely that this liquid is a side effect of the lymphoma being back but all the same it meant my heart was doing aquarobics! So it had to beat faster and harder to keep me a live, poor little b*gger. So there's a lot going on in the left side of my chest, there's this liquid which shouldn't be there and the lymphoma is twice the size it was. Hence me having a bed in hospital.

The only way to find out how much liquid was around my heart was to do an ultrasound scan which meant a ride in an ambulance to the Hallamashire hospital which is only five minutes round the corner but they wanted the ambulance to take me and who am I to argue. As fascinating as an ultrasound is and it's weird seeing your own heart beating away on the screen the over riding memory is just how cold the gel is that they put on the sensor. I remember Wendy saying about it when we went to see the girls during pregnancy and I just thought she was being nesh, she wasn't it's flipping cold.

The lady at the Hallamshire concluded that although there was a reasonable amount of liquid there it wasn't a massive worry and they'd see me again in a couple of weeks. So then we waited, the nurse from the Weston and I, and we waited and waited and waited and waited for a medi car to take us back round to the Weston Park and ward 3. Why it took so long I have no idea but we chatted and talked about all sorts of things, education and religion and life in general. We made it back eventually and although I could have walked it I'm glad in hindsight that I didn't.

All this time Wendy has been running around trying to sort out an overnight bag and get to the Weston as I was going to the Hallamshire and mum and dad came up to the Weston too to get some of the information that would be relevant for my next round of chemo. All through this the girls were at school expecting to see me home that night, maybe poorly but at least at home.

Tuesday night was uneventful other than watching people on the ward coming and going and listening to other men sleep, not high on my list of to do's but life's like that.

Wednesday morning was not a massive amount of fun. Debbie came up with Linda my consultant and gave me a very quick break down of where are. Basically, and it is very basically, the lymphoma is back so that has to be treated with more chemo therapy, this will be more intrusive than last time. The chemo they start me on will last for two sessions (6days in hospital and two weeks off if I behave) then they'll scan me. If the scan is good then they can look at working with my stem cells and harvesting them and then putting some back. If the scan isn't favourable then maybe two more of the chemo I've just started or maybe a different even more invasive one. Then they said the word you don't want, palliative, I have too much to live for to think that the next option is looking after me til I die. I know we all go some time but I have things I want to do and see and experience and I want to watch my kids grow and go places with Wendy and work hard and run and ride my bike and and and and.

Bridges, to be crossed when you get there.

They are treating me as though I can be treated so at the moment it's as good as it'll get!

After this brief meeting and my breakfast I settled down to tv and the papers and the general life of a student. This is when my heart started working hard, maybe the breakfast was too much, but I didn't have the full English...... I mentioned it to the registrar who after a couple of minutes decided that I wasn't staying at Weston but I was to be blue lighted across to the Northern General to the the cardiac care unit where they could possibly drain the the liquid from around my heart.

As the ambulance staff arrived one asked where we were going so asked for Filey for an ice cream......but Northern General it was, being in the back of an ambulance is like being in a really sparse caravan which goes round corners just as badly. It's not exciting nor is it to be recommended.

Northern General is massive, it's a huge place with miles of corridors so when I saw the back or a beautiful woman looking a little confused it was lovely to be able to call Wend from the trolley. The ambulance staff knew where they we going but Wendy didn't and it was wonderful to see her. Especially as she'd been just about to set off to Weston park when she got the call to say I wouldn't be there!

The cardiac care unit is as the name suggests for cardiac patients and feels very clinical because of this. The staff though were lovely and funny and had no qualms about the number of sticky pads they put on my chest to measure and monitor me. I have no idea how women go through the whole waxing thing as these little pads hurt like merry hell when they had to come off.

From being wired for sound it was all a bit of a blur, another ultrasound scan which according to the guy doing it showed between 500 and 700 mls of liquid around my heart so there was no wonder it was working hard. From there on I was nil by mouth, possibly a least favourite term of mine! It means two things, no food or drink but it also means the possibility of a surgical procedure. To be honest the lack of food or drink is my main concern but hey old habits die hard.

They eventually had a slot for me that afternoon and off to the theatre I went. The drain would be put in under local aneasthetic using the ultrasound to guide the hand of the surgeon. All around me in this very impressive operating theatre were staff of varying rank but it was clear that none of them were there for the fun of it they were there incase they were needed. Well they raised me up and then they tipped me this way and then they tipped me that way and then someone else came in and all the while they're putting more and more of the super cold gel on me man boobs.

In the end they decided that the risk outweighed the benefits! They seemed to want about 2cm of gap to get the drain in, I had at best 1cm in a less than ideal position. 1cm is a good cough really, cough and oops I'm in the heart sorry sir! So they left it. from my point of view it felt like the right decision, you know when you have a feeling about something going right or going wrong, I know where my money would have been that afternoon.

So back up to the cardiac care unit and Wend, Michelle and dad. Shelley works at the Northern and like the great friend she is had come over as soon as she'd heard. Dad had come up as it's what great dad's do. Their faces were a mixture of relief and worry at the lack of procedure, possibly so was mine!

The decision was made to wire me for sound for the next 48 hours and see what happened with my heart, my resting pulse had come down a little but was still around 115 beats per minute which for an athlete like myself, ho ho ho, is ridiculous. (It was 71beats per minute yesterday morning so the drugs are doing something).

Technology is amazing, not only can I sit in my homer dint wirelessly connected to the internet but they could wirelessly connect me to the monitors which allowed me the freedom to go to the loo without asking which was great. The slight draw back was getting the pack to talk to the base station, for whatever reason nurse number one couldn't figure it out so called nurse number two, both blokes I hasten to add. Nurse number two checked the connectors, the battery and then dropped the unit in my lap to check the base station. Now not being one to complain but when someone drops a small brick in the family jewels it tend to provoke a reaction. That was the highlight of my stay! Nothing more interesting to add, 48 hours being observed morning, noon and night.

Another ultra sound with yet more really cold gel started Friday morning off, bit of a shock but again the consultant was happy with his decision and said that once transport could be arranged it was back to Weston for me. It was with mixed feelings that this came as it meant one thing was finished but to me it was the bit I dread the most the chemo. I've never liked drugs, I've never smoked a splif I smoked possibly 3 cigarellos in a Clint Eastwood phase but I have a healthy hatred of drugs. Now they're going to start pumping them into me in order to save my life which feels very strange.

I was given a side room which I thought was a bonus at the time but back fired on me a little. As the ambulance staff wheeled me through the ward it was lunchtime and the fish on the trolley looked superb. This coming from a person who doesn't like fish, bloody hell though it was fabulous, crispy and tasty and just wonderful. That was Friday, from there until yesterday has been a mixture of swapping bags of drugs, cannulars, two at a time don't you know so that they can put one lot of drugs in one side and more in the other.

There are problems with cannulars though, they can be uncomfortable and they can move so when my arm blew up like a small tree trunk the other night they switched arms which gave me an opportunity to swap my t-shirt which had been behaving like something possessed. Reassuringly the nurse said it better to do the swap with the drugs going in rather than the next bag as the next bag if spilled would cause us serious skin burns! Great serious skin burns but pump it on in!

Wendy gave me a wipe down the other day which was wonderful and above and beyond the call of duty. You don't realise sometimes how lucky you are until the world turns to cr*p. Yes my medical situation is cr*p at the moment but I am so lucky to have such wonderful friends and such an incredible family and to have found Wendy, later in life than I wanted but I found her anyway (well Gwyneth did), is just breathtaking.

The treatment has gone for now, I'm home. I had a lovely soak in the bath and have slept in my own bed. I need to get my bowels moving and keep moving myself so that I don't end up some steroid addled couch potato. I probably have more coursing through my veins than the whole of the Tour de France!

Anyway the brain has gone, I've just had a daily injection to help my white blood cells and wendy has put some soup on. Thank you to everyone who has visited and texted and written and made me feel very very loved. Last week was spectacularly sh*t and my head has been in pieces, the nursing staff have helped and slowly I'm getting round the one step at a time scenario. But it's when you come home and your wife and kids beam at you as though you're the last piece of pizza or a returning warrior that you really feel where your strength is at. Rational head says bring it on, emotional head says oh my god I'm scared but together with Wend we can do this.

On a boring note, please can we ask that between 5 and 8 is quiet family time and we'll ring after that.

So we start again.

2010-06-27T10:24:00.006+01:00

All the will in the world all the crossed fingers and legs and anything else that can be crossed didn't stop the consultation going the wrong way.

I was hoping for bird flu or even man flu. What we got was a 99.999999 percent probability of the lymphoma being back. The blood test which I had a week ago showed enough abnormalities to lend weight to the argument of it being back. Unfortunately with the other symptoms including the fluid on or around one of my lungs kinds of seals the deal.

The emotional result of this is the ar*e has fallen out of our world again. We told the girls which in all honesty was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. We told them when we were told I was in remission that it had gone to sleep so telling them it's woken up should be easy. But their faces contorted with pain and worry and tears and anger and pure pure emotion was too much and it was confirmation, if needed, that we were back in the fight.

Telling people is rubbish, they answer their phones and are happy to hear your voice and then you give them the news. Their voices sink and you can hear them thinking of what to say, of which there is very little they can say. Then you leave that person holding that piece of news and you go and give the news to someone else, in a way it's the old 'a problem shared' but it's not really it's just cr*p.

One of the hardest was a skype call to New Zealand to tell Charlie and Veronica that we won't be at their wedding. I knew they'd understand but I wanted to be at their wedding we'd booked the flights and everything, even bought a Swedish phrase book as the wedding will be in Veronica's homeland, complicated yes but worth doing for people you love.

I phoned Jase (brother in law) as he can sometimes be a mushroom in the chain of information passing (kept in the dark and fed poo). His response was like many others, sorrow that it had returned and a wish that I get through this. We agreed to talk more that evening. What I didn't realise was that he and Anita pretty much dropped everything and came up to give us a hug.

I'm so lucky, it sounds very backwards and maybe I am but I'm so lucky to have so many people wishing us well and wanting to help and do stuff and praying for us and worrying for us. Perhaps I would never have realised all this without the journey that is cancer but I realise it now and it feels brilliant to have this amazing group of people that we can ring or see.

The person that I feel for the most is Wend, once again she has the prospect of looking after the girls and maybe me and a dog now. She has the worries of a wife looking at the person she loves going through treatment. And there's not a f*cking thing I can do about it. Sorry about the language but it's not fair, she worked so hard last year keeping everything together and kicking me when I needed it or loving me or just holding or stroking my hairless head. She deserves a medal for the way that she kept the girls lives as normal as she did, she deserves another one encrusted with diamonds for putting up with me. She doesn't deserve another round of uncertainty and worry. It's just not fair on her, she's so amazing I don't want her suffering because of me. Wendy I love you.

testing testing 123

2010-06-16T19:45:00.004+01:00

Ok so the elbow thing is better, having spoken to a physio terrorist at a wedding and being told to sleep on my back the pain has completely gone in my left arm.

Unfortunately I now have a pain in my chest, I wake up with night sweats, I've lost a load more weight (just on the 16 stone marker ish), I have temperatures in the day, my breathing is ok depending on how I'm positioned, I have a severe lack of energy, my tastes have changed again and I don't like things like brown bread and pasta which I lived off before cancer, oh and I'm drinking like a fish but not weeing anything like enough. Maybe that's what the sweats are for!

So putting them all together and having been told I looked less that sparkling by some of my colleagues, they did ply me with coffee and chocolate though which was lovely, and Wendy saying you look peaky prompted a trip to the gp.

The gp didn't look in my throat or examine me just said well we'll take a blood test and get you back in in a week. I suggested that as once you're in at Weston park you're in, that I just phone them up. He was delighted!

So that's where Wendy and I have been today, Weston Park. I managed to get to see Georgia do her obstacle course for her sports day but then had to dash.

To cut a long story, well I could make it long, short I'll give the abridged version.

Waited, for a long time, got seen. Consultant wants blood tests doing and ct scans. If it were one or two of the symptoms above she'd put it down to side effects, which it may still be. It may also be a virus and lord knows there's plenty of them going round at school with the snotty little oiks. That's just the teachers! It may be something more sinister. Who knows, not us.

So we're back on the roller coaster that is cancer, I want normal not roller coaster. But having said that I feel less angry than I did which is odd. Ho hum I'm sure some shrink will figure it out.

In search of me.

2010-06-16T19:26:00.003+01:00

Before cancer I felt on top of the world. my job was going well, my fitness was the best it had ever been including being a kid and my work life balance felt amazing. Wendy and I had time together, we had time with and without the kids and I had some time just being me.

I felt like I was chilled, that anything could come my way and I could work through it. I laughed at people cutting me up in the car and everything would be done when it was done. It felt brilliant.

After cancer I was trying to be that person, but that person had a routine of job and sport and family which I didn't have. But gradually I got more and more angry and crosser and crosser. At nothing in particular. The slightest little car incident would have me blowing the horn or gesticulating about the other person's inability to drive. The kids and Wendy were getting short shrift for no reason other than I could and the dog learned to stay out of the way!

It all came to a head recently when we'd been to see Wendy's Gran. She's the traditional matriarch and a lovely woman but she'd had a stroke recently and then we were all going over for her 90th birthday. We went over on the Sunday before going back to school and I just got so wound up that I was mean and sarcastic and just not the person I aspire to be.

Wendy let me know, there's only so much someone can take and she's taken way more than anyone should. We had a frank discussion and I have to find how to be Nick Hart before cancer again.

Walking round school I was in a real mess, if home isn't right then nothing is right. Talking to people helped I hope I didn't bore people as I try to leave things at home but I am a bit of an open book and people tend to know my emotions half way down a corridor sometimes.

I spoke to Belinda my little goddess of honesty and straight talking and she suggested flowers and /or chocolate. It had been ages since I had bought Wendy flowers and the girls had never had any so roses (flowers not chocolates) it was.

Bertie is a fabulously rubbish guard dog until you're trying to walk in with bunches of roses for the ladies you love. Sometimes words come and sometimes they don't, I gave the girls their single rose each and explained that I'd been so proud of them and that I don't feel like I've been a very good dad this last year. Not my fault I know but I should have been better. It set the waterworks off I was crying the girls were crying Wend was crying and it was such a release. Such a release of emotion of thoughts of nick after cancer. It was my starting point.

Less negativity......

2010-05-31T19:47:00.006+01:00

The last post needed saying and I said it. But it probably didn't read very positively, my life is awesome, it's bloody brilliant being me.

Last weekend we were invited to Gareth and Julia's wedding at Borrowdale youth hostel in the lakes. Gareth is a good friend and neighbour and I was proud to be an usher even though I had to wear way too much wool on the hottest day of the year!

We had a brilliant weekend and Gareth and Julia just looked so happy and it all looked right. It reminded me of our wedding, a hot but wonderful day were everything went right and Wendy looked stunning. Being in the lakes was very relaxing and made me so incredibly happy. We'll be back one day, with or without the kids I'm not sure, I'd like to do both we will see.

Anyhow photos say so much I'll let them do the talking.

The one with the head!

2010-05-31T14:58:00.003+01:00

My gran couldn't remember my name when mum called in on her the other day so I'm the one with the head. Not sure if the rest of the family are headless but mines been a little distinctive recently!

The brain is an incredible thing. It controls our bodies for a start, it enables us to walk, to judge distance/speed/beauty, it allows our mouths to work (sometimes) to utter the words I love you or to give thanks for a beautiful day. For some people it helps them be academic, storing information and formulea for use in the future. For others it allows them to paint or create or be musical or theatrical. Some get a strength of character, some get a determination that carries them through regardless, others get the ability to share, to teach, to love.

I think we all start out with similar abilities but with our own strengths. Our lives then mold us into the beings we are, the experiences, the ups and downs. My first word was mini, not mum or dad but mini so I guess there was some outside influence going on there!

My head at the moment is struggling, it is struggling with my body not being as fit as it was. With me being tired a lot of the time and it's struggling with little petty things at work which should be of no matter to me. Wendy and I keep having the whole your body has been through so much and it has to recover.

Yes it has to recover but I want it to be faster! This Thursday is one year since I started chemotherapy. I have been back at work for seven weeks, as a phased return so building my timetable up. I've also dropped Wednesday which gives me a chance to recharge. Making it to the end of my first half term was a fabulous feeling, it was a real milestone for me I had been scared that I wouldn't get there. That my body would say no, that I'd get a cough or a cold or something would happen. But nothing did, except for my head playing tricks with me, putting doubt in place of confidence and mixing emotions up to boiling point for no apparent reason.

I have to look after me and that is what I lost sight of. I've loved being back and teaching again it's felt so right and fun and some of the kids have been so nice. But it's all consuming and once you're in that classroom for the hour or two you have that lesson for you're in charge, no wandering off for a pee or to check for a text message. It's been brilliant but it hasn't given me chance to think.

It's half term holidays now and it gives me that chance to think. To hold hands with Wend and walk and talk and laugh and cry if need be. But it's all about getting a balance back, I knew it'd be hard going back to work and physically it has been but mentally it's been a real challenge. This week is about being me and getting back in tune with being me. Being me is being part of a lovely little family,it's taking the dog for walks, it's taking the kids for new shoes and stuff for school and it's about being in love with an incredible woman.

Knackered but smiling

2010-05-11T20:32:00.003+01:00

Well the smile is there more often than it was. I don't feel as angry as I did, I went through a stage of just wanting to fight anything and everything. That is passing which is great as I don't upset the kids or Wend as much and I'm a more chilled teacher because of it.

The tennis elbow is ok, getting better actually, my tennis is still rubbish though. My chest still has it's moments and I'm happy to put that down to radio therapy side effects and a hint of a cold. Don't worry it's not man flu!

I've started staying at work until lunch time this week which has been as much of a kick in the teeth as starting back at work. It's been hard but I've enjoyed it, I've enjoyed feeling more part of the furniture and the kids are getting more used to me being back. I get less people staring at me, I had one lad come up and pat my shoulders as though he was checking I was real! It also feels like the staff have pretty much all seen me and it's old news. Which in a funny way is great, I like some attention but it's nice when people see me for me rather than someone who's had cancer. I'm starting to be Mr Hart, big loud hairy Mr Hart who is firm but fair (hopefully).

I went to see my GP tonight to sort out my final sick note, wow how good does that sound, so that I can return to work after spring bank half term holiday. I think that the timing feel right, it may be hard work, it will be hard work, but I need to be back properly. I will need to plod and to get my lessons right, settle into the full routine and then I can start thinking about getting my fitness back. It would be unfair for me to ask my body to go back to work and then on top of that start pushing to get fit again. I'll ride my bike and maybe go for the odd run but I need to make sure I have reserves of energy the last thing I need is to get run down.........had plenty of that!

Oh next Weston park visit is in three months, tennis elbow permitting!

Phew

2010-05-05T16:07:00.004+01:00

The scan came through all clear. The thoughts on the arm is that it may be tennis elbow! My chest feels funny and my breathing isn't what it was but the consultants listened to my chest and it's all clear and the suggestion is that it's the side effects from the radio therapy still making themselves known.

I guess it's been an emotional time as everything felt like it was going so well and that I could get on with life all hunky dory. But it scared me, it scared Wend as well, it scared George and Carys and mum and dad. I've never been so convinced that I was going to die. It's a pants feeling really, all I could do was think about how Wend and the girls would cope and what music they'd play at my funeral and could I have an eco coffin etc etc etc. All the stuff that a morose self pitying hypochondriac thinks.

Well stuff that. I need to find the fine line between symptoms and side effects and I need to listen to my body and how it's responding to the gradual process of recovery but I need to live. I need to let go of the ghosts that sit with me in any waiting room, as though I'm going through chemo again. Let go of the feeling that my body isn't quite doing what I expect it to. We learned today that treatment can age your body by 10 years! Bugger. Anyway this 48 year old body is going to get fit and get back to work and get back on with enjoying life rather than existing, afraid of any ache or pain.

I need to do it sensibly and I need to do it once. We want boring from now on. No more excitement, no more appointments, no more waiting rooms. Lets chill out, live life and be as normal as I get for as long as possible.

Testing times

2010-04-29T20:09:00.003+01:00

Going back to work has hit me hard, harder than I thought it would but it's also come at a bad time. I've been having some cracking good pains in my left arm and elbow. Me being me decided it's due tot he amount of poison that was shoved through that arm when I was on chemo, unfortunately my consultant doesn't agree.

It may be a circumstantial thing as i have been sat for a really long time over the last year doing bugger all and even less with my left arm as i'm right handed. Which ruled out Mark's theory that I'd been bashing the bishop too much. I'm reasonably ambidextrous but not that good!

So the testing has begun again, 6 xray's of my upper spine and shoulders which may have been inconclusive as I went for a MRI scan last night. It's weird, when the NHS needs to move quickly it can and that has made Wend and I all the more anxious, when you get a phone call at 7.45pm asking you to come for a scan the day after next it just takes me right back to when all this started almost exactly a year ago. The phone calls, the hurried appointments, the uncertainty and the surreal feeling that we were going pinch each other and wake up and out of the nightmare. The girls know something is going on, we've told them as we always do, that I have to have some more scans. Looking into their eyes and telling them that we don't know what's happening is one of the hardest things. I can remember the utter joy and relief of telling them I was in remission and now all I keep thinking is what if, what if it's back, is it the same, is it different, is it better or worse, do I have the physical ability to do treatment again. Do I have the mental ability to do treatment again.

I don't really have a choice. I have too much to live for.

I appreciate that my head has been full of rubbish but I've been taking it out on the wrong people, the people who are closest to me get the grumpy miserable git who snaps and is generally bad tempered. The dog has had short shrift on a few too many occasions, but we're closer than we were, he's sat on my feet as I type this. Why is it that I can't take it out on something else, an inanimate object, something that doesn't have feelings. I try to be so careful at work, there are so many opportunities for the odd snide remark but then I would become the teacher that I swore I'd never be.

In a weird way I thought going to a funeral would help my head, not any random funeral as rent a crowd but a relatives. It was one of my mum's cousins and although we'd never been close I wanted to go for his mum, Connie who is an absolute hoot and my mum who has supported Connie through many trying times.

Well I was wrong. The vicar or bod who does the service read a preprepared script about someone who I knew not. A popular person who'd worked hard his whole life and was excellent with kids at parties. Now this wasn't the person I had met, maybe it was the families memories but I could feel myself getting more and more irate and had to stop myself asking who are they talking about!

Then my mind decided that it'd had enough of listening so started working overtime placing me in the coffin and Wend and the girls in the front row. I decided there and then that I wasn't having them go through the rubbish I'd just had to sit through so I started thinking about my own funeral and how it could be and the Indian food feast afterwards and the music and the bikes and bikers and then the Shadows started playing Apache. Although I like the track and it was on the first ever album I bought, on cassette none the less, I thought you can bugger off you're not playing that at my funeral. They weren't, it was actually playing at the crem that bright and sunny afternoon. I so wanted to do air guitar down the isle but I refrained, just.

I get the results of the MRI scan next Wednesday and fingers and everything else, that will cross, crossed that it's nowt to be worried about it's just the damaged muscles and veins repairing themselves.

It's easy to type but it's bloody hard to keep the fascade going. But it's life and it's there for living so until someone stops me I'll keep on, hopefully in a better mood!

Well I'm back.......

2010-04-20T20:53:00.003+01:00

I made it. I'm getting back into the groove of getting up going to work coming home and going to bed. No I'm not working all the hours sent to me just two in a morning but it's knocking me very sideways. I feel better when I've been swimming or for a bike ride so it's not a physical thing. It's a head and heart thing.

There's no point being a teacher if you're rubbish at it, the kids will eat you alive and then you get stressed and no-one smiles then.

It was a lovely welcome to morning briefing, people saying hello and welcome back and just being really nice. Then it was mentioned in briefing that I was back and people clapped and cheered. It was an unbelievable reaction, I haven't done anything to warrant such a reaction, but it was an honest and unprepared emotional response which gave me an incredible feeling inside. I managed to keep my emotions together but it was a close run thing!

My lesson wasn't as good as the previous one, the computers had developed a glitch which had to be sorted so it was a case of thinking on my feet which was a little more stress than I'd planned for. But the kids learned a few things, I kept my calm and made it through.

As I got home I could feel myself going, I made a cup of tea and started checking emails. I got half way down the tea and didn't read the emails before going to bed and sleeping soundly for an hour or so. Then I was nearly asleep in my tea, so I made it to the royal time of nine pm before going to bed again. Apart from my old man's bladder I slept soundly and only woke when the alarm went off to do it all again.

Today was similar but different, I wasn't actually teaching but I had paperwork to catch up on and ICT issues to try and sort. But it was talking to a lady in one of the offices who's been through cancer that really brought home to me how important these two days are. They are the first steps to being normal, well as normal as I get, they are the routine I haven't had, the challenges that for the last year I haven't had to face. Yes I've had a fair bit on my mind but that was all about me and my family. Now I have things to do that have no emotional attachment to me, they are just problems to solve and in a way that is very refreshing. The emotional drain is being nice to people all day, remembering their names even if they forget mine and remembering the bigger picture. Life is too short.

Well I've made it to 9:20 just and I'm going to bed. It's amazing being back at work, being able to go back is something that wasn't particularly certain for a long time. One thing that is certain is how lucky I am to have had the support from friends, colleagues and family. But it sealed the deal when I came down on Monday in my shirt and tie and Carys beamed up at me and told me how smart I looked, George gave me a big hug and Wend just smiled. One of those smiles that lights me up inside and gives me strength, it's a smile that gives me faith in myself, if I could bottle it it'd be worth a fortune. Actually it'd be priceless.

Occy health say yes

2010-04-16T19:31:00.003+01:00

I had a meeting with occupational health yesterday to determine if the plan to return to work was sound and whether or not I was sound to go back too! Well I must have been on best behaviour as they think it's a good plan to return on as they said they're happy with the plan.

So the plan, I'm dropping Wednesdays (completely forever done) and will start back by working the first two periods Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday and see how it goes. If I'm knackered as is possible then I have Wednesday to rest. If that goes well for the first couple of weeks then I'll build up to doing all morning on those four days and then when that feels sustainable then go back in full time and see how that works out. I want to go back but I want to go back once, so I'm going to take my time and make sure that I get it right first time.

Bring on Monday morning.........I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

One year on

2010-04-09T12:38:00.013+01:00

I don't know what I expected to feel, sad, happy, guilty but I never thought I'd feel numb. Easter weekend last year was when I had the first sign that something was wrong with my temple like body.......well every temple needs an outhouse. So with a little trepidation in the back of my complicated mind we set off for wet welsh Wales.

It was a rubbish journey down, wet and loads of traffic but we had a stop at Brian and Eve's near Shrewsbury and a cup of tea and a catch up with old friends. It almost settled the journey down somehow, breaking a rhythm set by interesting driving and loads of spray on the roads.

It would be a busy and a little stressful weekend as Jason had been the chairman of the local Round Table for a year and so it was his chairman's ball. A celebration of his year and a thank you to those who've helped him. It was busy because there were so many little things to be sorted out, in Sheffield or any big city it would be easier but in rural Wales everything takes a little more time and a lot more travelling to sort out. It was stressful because everyone wanted it to be a memorable night, but memorable for all the right reasons. For this to happen everyone had to be in the right place at the right time, then Jacob (nephew 1) disappeared for a rugby game an hours drive away, Wend and Anita went for their hair and makeup doing and I took Ryan (nephew 2) to the hotel to wait for the girls.

Totally unaware of the confusion reigning round him

The Cliff hotel in Cardigan is a lovely example of a Victorian hotel which has sat on it's laurels too long. It has stunning views, it has a brilliantly quirky feel to it with staircases that Hogwarts would be proud of. But, and it's a big old but, it needs an injection of cash and life. They're doing lots of work to it and have made a lovely spa and the roof is now watertight and I wish them a load of luck but it does have a fawlty towers feel to it.

Now I love mobile phones and what they can do for you but I also enjoy being left alone, contrary little thing that I am. In Sheffield it's unusual to lose signal unless you're in Rawmarsh, in Pembrokeshire it's quite common. To be honest the first few times I went down there I wondered what on earth was happening, no phone signal, no indicators on cars, different calendars and a whole different time system. Now I enjoy it, I recalibrate myself so that every five minutes takes fifteen and when someone says I'll be there now it actually means they need to put their shoes on, feed the dog, find their keys and then they'll be there.

This relaxation of the laws of time and continuum came as a shock but it's just as normal to me as 24 hour shops and trams. The only time that it becomes a problem is when there is a specific function happening. So when Wend and Anita weren't at the hotel when they said they'd be there and they had Ryan's suit it started to be a little pressured. Well it was only pressured as Anita had asked me to go and look after Jason and stop people pouring Guinness down his neck before his speech. I finally found phone signal, why I don't know but by standing on one leg waggling the family jewels next to the gas tank at the hotel gave me 3 bars of reception. 2 bars without the waggling!

With reception and communication with the world outside restored calm soon returned. The girls wouldn't be long, Jacob had returned and would meet me and Ryan in Cardigan. It wasn't going to be the romantic afternoon in a hotel that Wend and I had envisaged, but it would all turn out alright in the end........fingers crossed.

I'm just darn lucky to be married to such a beautiful woman.

The nephews and their aunty. Yes she's the boss.

Jason, Anita, Jacob and Ryan, scrub up nice don't they.

I think some of the tension went when the soup came out, it was either leek and potato soup or liver pate for starters. Now I'm not the most well traveled person in the world but when the soup was bright red with croutons it kind of made me wonder. The waiting staff looked at me gone out when I mentioned it, perhaps Welsh leeks were red, it started to make me wonder. It turned out that a computer error was to blame, one menu had been saved under another menus title and vice versa. Like I say computer error......not the end of the world though, I had the pate anyway just be sure!

Formal functions can be somewhat stuffy and to start with the formalities of the Round Table speeches was, well, formal. Jason had to toast various people including someone from area 43 which our table decided must be similar to area 51 and were then looking for little green men.

It kind of set the scene for the rest of the speeches until Jason's, Jase isn't the sort of bloke to show his emotions readily, if ever. But it's been a hell of a year for him with people not paying, Ryan and Anita needing operations, breaking his wrist and his dad being diagnosed with cancer. To me it was an excellent speech, from the heart and honest. That for me is Jase, he's straightforward and honest and works damned hard and I for one was proud to raise a glass with him.

Speeches over it was time for dad dancing to kick in. The guy at the suit hire shop had guaranteed dad dancing was included with the suit but I found a couple of pints of the black stuff helped the moves go more smoothly, in my mind anyway!

The morning after.

Sometimes it's better not to remember a night, but this was a great night, in my opinion. I danced, I drank, I danced, I dragged Jase onto the dance floor, I dragged Jacob onto the dance floor (by his feet), I dragged new best friend forever (apparently) rugby playing bouncer onto the dance floor, I danced with a bloke in the bar (don't ask as I don't know!) and I danced til the last dance and then begged the dj for one more song.

I think I was surprised that I was alive in the morning let alone feeling reasonably human, as human as I get. So a light breakfast and then into the spa was an incredibly indulgent but civilised way to work off a hangover.

The rest of the weekend was a brilliant mixture of beaches and chilling out. A bit of rugby, more chilling and taking Stella for a walk. I don't know, as I say what I expected to feel this weekend but I expected more emotion than I had. I've been up and down like a yoyo since we've got back but then it's been busy, we're now dog owners. A bonkers little Border terrier called berty. He's good really it's just like having a toddler in the house with needles for teeth. Hard work but rewarding. Whether that's taking my mind off things or whether it's clouding it I don't know but I wish I was back on the beach! No I'm not fussy about the weather either.

One day it's stunning. Whitesands beach (clue in the name)

The next day it's stunningly windy. Newgale beach (clue in th, oh you get the idea)

Ignorance is bliss

2010-03-31T20:04:00.003+01:00

Well if I was sh*t no one told me!

I very nearly didn't go in, then once in the car I very nearly drove straight past. Once in the building and past people wishing me well I found some of the wires needed changing over before my computer would show the lesson I wanted to do.

I left my water bottle at home, but I found a spare in the car. I got really nervous but then I remembered that I'd done all this lesson before.

I had Wendy's spirit with me telling me I am a good teacher, well it was a text message but I guess it's as near spiritual as some folks get.

Mark's voice was there in the back of my head reminding me that once you've done something you can do it again and again, well except dying but that was hopefully not on the cards for today!

When I was growing up mum and dad had graffiti wall paper in the bathroom, they bought the paper like that! It had little ditties on it like karl marx's grave was a communist plot and alas poor yorlik I knew him backwards. But the one that sprang to mind was 'if you do something today and like it then you can do it again tomorrow!'

I like teaching, no, I love teaching. Getting information into someone else just through your actions or words is amazingly gratifying. Then when little Johnny goes 'oh yeah sir I gerrit now'. Then that's like a big fat pay cheque landing in my account.

The lesson went ok, no one died, which is a bonus. I remembered pretty much everything and I even remembered some of the kids names which amazed me and them.

Yes I was tired after but the adrenaline was awesome and I'm really looking forward to going back on a staged return after Easter. I know now all the groups will respond as well as this one did but then that's part of the challenge.

Bring it on.

Scared of being sh*t

2010-03-28T08:46:00.003+01:00

I'm not sleeping very well at the moment, I keep waking up having nightmares about a class full of kids that I can't control.

It's funny that in all my years of working I've never dreamed about waking up at work naked. I've woken up on the counter of a department store I used to work at in my pyjama's, in my dream i hasten to add. Never naked though, a blessing for all to be honest!

I'm going to teach tomorrow, just periods 1 and 2 and only because it's a new group on the rotations. As a technology teacher the kids rotate round and come to you and then you teach them your specialty. So it wouldn't be fair on the kids or the member of staff if I missed the first lesson but then went in after Easter and said we're scrapping what you've started and doing this instead. It's just not cricket. So I have to take my balls in my hand, figuratively speaking, and man up. Put aside the fears that run around my head, the nagging voice that says I've forgotten where I have stored all my files, the voice that says that I've forgotten how to teach. I have to remember how to tie my tie, which key fits which lock and where the gents is.

All this worry sits on my shoulders and to be honest I'd find it easier and less stressful going for another CT guided biopsy. Just the process mind, not finding cancer and having all the associated garbage that goes with it!

Wend, as always, puts it in perspective for me though. I'm reminded that she's returned to work twice from maternity leave and she didn't make as much song and dance about it as I am. Well I'm not exactly singing and dancing more huffing and puffing and I'll blow you house down. Oops sorry too far.

Right, lets sort this out. I have my white board pens and my laptop. I have a rough idea where the files are but I have time to sort them. My new shoes are killing me so I need to do something with them and I know where my bag is. Ok I can do this, right where did I leave my balls..........

Something that cheers me up everytime I watch it: (borrowed from youtube, OK GO here it goes again)

From one furball to another.....

2010-03-22T12:20:00.003Z

Living, not existing.

It sounds odd but it can be a really hard thing to do, to live your life. So many people, including myself, have a routine and just get on with it and then at the significant moments like birthdays and celebrations realise it's been a year since the last one. There is a perception that there isn't time to feel the rain on your face or smell the autumn leaves or just to stop and tell someone how much they mean to you.

I've had a massive kick up the arse which has snapped me out of that routine. It sounds really cheesey to say that everyday is cherished but in a way it is. I have had my life measured, it became a finite object with a start point and an end. It was always that way, death and taxes are the only guaranteed events in our lives, but how close the end is was under debate for a while.

I guess that brush with mortality focus's the mind and gives a certain clarity about what is important to you. To me it's about being a damn good dad and as good a husband as possible, no I'll never be tidy but I try....... So to that end I have been talking to school about my return and going back 4 days a week. I love teaching and it gives me a real buzz when little Johnny says "I get it now sir". That to me is better than a fat bonus at the end of the year, yes I'm bonkers but that's me.

So now as part of living my life I need to get back to work, my fitness is coming as is my stamina. I'll return on a phased return doing a bit at a time and making sure it doesn't wipe me out but also making sure I get my lessons to the standard I know I'm capable of. It excites me and fills me with dread at the same time but the excitement far outweighs the dread.

On the list of life things to do I can start preparing to tick off going back to work. I can also tick off something Wendy and I have thought about for ages, getting a dog. It's been an unbelievable number of conversations and umming and arring but we've decided on a blue and tan border terrier pup, going by the name of Bertie. Hopefully this furball will give us less trouble than the last one!

Bertie.......yes he's well cute!

A fuller picture.

2010-03-08T11:36:00.009Z

Ok so the dust has settled and my head is a bit clearer than it was on Friday, alcohol or no!

We had a two hour wait for our appointment and it wasn't because we were really early! Weston Park is one of those places that requires patience, people are going to the clinic not knowing what has happened to their world, other than it's a different way up to how it was a week ago or a month. It's a fascinating place to be though as cancer is a great leveler and sooner or later you get talking to the people next to you or opposite and tiny conversations start and then pass just as quickly.

Then the call comes, Nick Hart, the heart skips a beat and the legs go a bit odd. Sort of 5 pints odd, you're in control of them and you know they're your legs but they don't react as quickly as normal. The hands that have been slowly getting tighter around the curled up jacket start to become clammy. All that because someone shouted your name!

We were shown into a new consultation room and were asked to wait there. Five minutes later another nurse comes in and tells us we're in the wrong consultation room! So we go to another waiting area and then shortly after sitting down we're shown into one of the usual consultation rooms! My great Aunty Con calls these things anti irritants, the little annoyances take your mind off the enormity of the problem facing you. It certainly broke some of the tension for me!

The consultation that followed was a mixed bag. The PET scan has shown that I am in partial remission, which is good. The PET scan also showed that there is still an area of activity where the tumour was, which is odd. This activity could be the radiotherapy still having an effect, it could be the cancer still being alive or it could be that I had an infection on the day of the scan and it chose to show up there!

The problem with PET scans is that although they are very clever and very good at showing activity, they are so new that understanding the data and learning when to send a patient for a scan is all still being improved upon. To this end Linda, my consultant, wishes I'd not had the PET scan as it has left a level of uncertainty which we could have done without.

For me it did leave a slightly sour taste in my mouth. I wanted, in true Nick Hart fashion, a fat lady singing and cheerleaders with pompoms oh and a big plaque to put on the wall stating that the cancer is dead and done with. But as with so many things we don't always get what we want but for me I'll take the next best thing. They say I am in remission, they don't want to see me for three months and if the PET scan hadn't have been invented then there wouldn't be this uncertainty.

I now say I had cancer.

One word that makes such a difference, had, not have. It's a week later now that I'm writing this and it still hasn't fully sunk in yet. I had cancer.

So then starts the process of telling the world. Mum and dad were at our house as Wendy's dad was coming up and so they were going to let him in if we ran late. We walked in with very dead pan faces, not on purpose nor for any comedy value but just because we'd had incredible news and we couldn't process it. Because of the faces mum and dad didn't know what to expect, so almost came as more of a surprise when we told them it was good news.

As the kettle clicked Wendy jumped up and rushed out of the door, how he does it I don't know but Bill had arrived, I think he smells the tea bags from about fifty miles! It was what Wendy needed, a hug from her dad.

Then it got really busy, I was on the phone ringing my sister and work and friends, Wend was talking to her dad and her sister. Mum and dad and Bill and Bron were chatting. Wend then went to the florists with mum to get flowers for the girls teachers. They have been superb in keeping the girls busy and being flexible when either have been emotional or stressed. But it's a massive testament to our girls that they haven't had time off for any reason other than they've been poorly. The routine has stayed the same and they have got on with life, we're so proud of them.

We didn't half look funny walking up to school with five big bouquets. We told Bill and Bron to hide in the bikes sheds as the girls didn't know they were coming up, won't be the first time they've hidden in the bike sheds I'm sure! We walked into the yard where the infants come out to and waited, everyone looking at us stood there hardly able to see over the flowers.

The it started, Carys saw us and looked right into my soul as if looking for the answer to an unspoken question. Her little face was a picture, tears had obviously been flowing and yet the smile that lit up when we told her it was good news was magical. Mrs Telford, Carys' teacher, then started crying (again) as we presented her with her flowers. She'd had Carys on her knee that afternoon and it had been emotionally hard for both of them it seems.

We walked through to the juniors yard and so we got more funny looks, we'd get even more in a minute. We waited and waited and then we saw Georgia's class coming out, George is usually last out and this day was no different but her shoulders were down and her feet were dragging as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. As soon as Carys saw her she hurtled down to her to tell her the news. She nearly knocked George over but managed to stop just in time. We got there seconds later and then collapsed in a heap of tears and hugs and more tears and more hugs. The disbelief that we'd been lucky enough to get through it. Nothing else mattered, the gravel in my knees or the hundreds of people looking at us, me and my girls, my world.

Then Mrs Powell Georgia's teacher was in tears with her flowers and the news. Georgia told Wend later that she had made her mind up to be strong if it was bad news, hopefully she can be a little girl with little girls worries now.

We found a couple of other teachers from last year who had been very supportive when I was initially diagnosed and explained what today had brought and gave them their flowers too. Then we told the girls there was a surprise in the bike sheds for them. Carys got there first and stated that it was her best day ever, daddy's lump has gone and dan dan is here. What more could a five year old want?

So started a very surreal weekend. I felt shattered, not happy or giddy, my head was so full of mush. I slept Saturday afternoon, a deep thoughtless sleep, very unlike Thursday night! We went for Sunday lunch at the Grouse Inn at Frogatt, us, Bill and Bron, Mum and Dad, Viv and Dave and their girls. I was there in body but not in mind, I was tetchy and distant. I didn't want to be there, it was all too much. Too many sight and sounds and thoughts. It was nice to see everyone and the food was great but my head couldn't cope.

What on earth is wrong with me, I've had the best news ever and yet i'm not happy. But then it struck me, for the last ten months or so I haven't dared think about living. It has been surviving the treatment. Not living, living involves planning a future, needs and desire for the future. I haven't dared allow myself a future, just get through the now.

Today, one week on I feel amazing, I have ridden my bike and chilled and talked with Wend about our future. My head is clearing, slowly, I feel so unbelievably lucky I can't describe the feeling. I am just a very very lucky man.

Proper Cold

Bridge over non troubled waters!

My trusty steed.

I'm so happy to be me. Now I need to get on with life.

I'm in remission!

2010-03-05T20:35:00.003Z

Like it says I'm considered to be in remission now which means no more treatment. It feels really weird and I guess I'm in shock but I don't know.

I've had a pint or two now so I'll post more when I can see better!

Thank you to everyone.

15 Years

2010-03-03T13:13:00.003Z

15 Years ago tonight Wendy and I were introduced to each other by Gwyn. What a 15 years, people have come and gone from our lives but never our hearts. Jobs have changed, hair has gone whiter, me not Wend, and my waist line has expanded, contracted and expanded again.

No-one prepares you for life, you just live it. Yes your action have an effect on the outcomes but I'm a big believer in fate and what goes around comes around. Friday is results day, what they're going to say is a complete unknown. But the results will be what they are and we'll deal with whatever is put in our path.

Until Friday it's really hard knowing what to say or what to do. I've been turning a bowl from some wood Gareth gave me, I don't think he knows how timely the gift was as it's occupied my mind for the best part of a month thinking about what to make and how to make it.

A bowl.

Anyhow it's finished now and I wanted Gareth and Julia to have it for their dining room. They've been just two of many many friends and neighbours to wish me and our family well for Friday. It's not the big statements that really count, sometimes a pat on the back and a well chosen word or two is just as heartening.

I had a major wobble on Sunday, just fear taking over, a fear of having come so far and yet having further yet to go. Fear of having to tell the girls bad news. Georgia and Carys are really feeling it, they shouldn't have to go through this, the pain and the uncertainty, they're kids. They should only be worrying about a boy looking at them at school or who's birthday party is next. Not worrying about their big hairy dad having a lump in his chest which could be the end of their world. No that's not fair.

They have been amazing with their strength and their capacity to care and I love them to pieces.

Right soppy stuff out of my head I'm going out on my bike to have some head space.

Happy 15 years Wend. Thank you Gwyn for the best thing that ever happened to me.

Testing testing 1-2-3

2010-02-24T15:58:00.004Z

Well it's scan time again. Friday will hopefully be the last PET scan for a while, the one when I get injected with radio active dye.

A week later it's results time, who know's what they'll bring, I couldn't say one way or t'other!

All I can say is apart from a migraine today and a bit of a cold I feel brill. My energy level is recovering and although it's not what it was it's stacks better than it has been recently. I have a sense of humour again, I'll let everyone who knows me decide if its good or not. I'm thinking more and more about going back to work and how and what I'm going to teach. It scares the life out of me going back but then Wendy has returned to work after two lots of maternity leave and survived. I've had a lump growing in me but I doubt I could class it as similar.........mind you the three stone I've put on looks ready to drop soon!

The scan will come and go and the results will come. What they are remains to be seen, good or bad they will be results and something will happen after them. We will get through whatever they give us to deal with, me and my girls. They are amazing and without them this wouldn't have been as easy as it has been. They deserve a good result and I'll work hard to give it to them.

Love, laughter and honesty have got us this far. Long may it guide us.

Ch-ch-changes

2010-02-17T15:23:00.011Z

It was with a massive amount of trepidation that I lifted the bag and carried it onto the train. We were bound for London and it scared the living daylights out of me to be honest. I was scared the hotel was going to be rubbish, we were going to get mugged or pick-pocketed, lose the train tickets or worse of all and it's a recurring nightmare, lose the kids.

Given the state of my mental health of late all these weighed on my mind and were constant companions as I fell asleep every night.

The start of the adventure

The girls were really excited about the whole thing and while Georgia was looking forward to the Natural History Museum all Carys was worried about was having tea with the Queen and what they'd be eating. We let her down lightly, she is five after all and all little girls grow into princesses who meet princes and live happily ever after. I for one am not going to burst her bubble just yet........

Wendy had done a vast amount of research and had booked the Premier Inn next to King's Cross station. It turned out to be perfect for our needs, ten minutes walk from where the train dropped us off and five minutes from the Piccadilly line underground. The tube was a worry, having tried it many years ago and hated the confines and the smells and the general grime, going back with the three most precious things in my life didn't fill me with good feelings.

Yes it was busy and smelly and loud and confusing and the home of some rather healthy looking rats. It does though serve a purpose, it carries millions of people in relative comfort to somewhere near their final destination. Once you get used to being jostled and squeezed (not in a good way) and having your toes trodden on or flattened by suitcases it is an easy way of getting from a to b and back again. I'm just glad I don't have to do it again for a while. I also understand now why so many people have the iphone, the boredom of looking out of grimy windows onto grimy walls starts to take it's toll on even the most imaginative out there. Sitting looking at a tiny screen or popping virtual bubble wrap starts to become much more attractive!

Yes Carys is Frozen like that!

We got off into the madness that is Piccadilly circus and went on an open top bus tour. It's something Wendy and I have made a tradition. Edinburgh in -2, Stratford in +2 and howling rain, London (a previous trip) +2 and howling rain and then London 2010 in +1 and cloudy! It always starts out well and we felt better prepared for this trip with ski gloves and hats and scarves. What we really needed was a roof! It was baltic and didn't quite go where we wanted to but it was ok and we learned a bit about the city.

A seasoned tube rider!

The next two days were a mixture of culture, Science museum and the Natural History, and general sight seeing, Leicester Square, Oxford street, South Kensington and Covent Garden.

We had a brill tip from a good friend, thank you Sarah, when visiting the science museum get there early and go straight to the top floor. This is where the interactive exhibits are and so we got to play for a good 45 minutes before the hoards made it up through the other floors.

By the time we were leaving London we reckon we had done about 2/3's of the science museum and a third of the natural history. we had reached saturation point for information and wow, look at that. The Natural history museum is such an amazing building, I took as many photos of the building as I did of the exhibits. I even had a bit of a chat with Jimmy Doherty off the telly (jimmy's farm) as he's been doing some really interesting programs about the environmental issues of food production and I'd like to use some of it in lessons that I'm planning to teach. Blimey said it, planning to teach, come on!

The main hall and a dinosaurs bum.

A huuuuuge piece of wood! 1335 years old.

Knackered.........

We came home, tired and in one piece. Feet hanging off and heads spinning. We'd done it, been there, seen it, thought the t-shirt too expensive. The taxi of mum and dad was waiting for us at the station and it was in welcome comfort and privacy that we drove home. The rest of the journey had been public transport and walking.

Lots of people put this country down and that includes me, but this weekend gave me a new appreciation of what we have. We are free to travel, people have helped us (two gents got out of their seats so the girls could sit down on the tube!), we have had choices lots of choices but they are ours to make.

I went feeling scared and worried if I'd be a damp squib on the whole weekend, if my body would let me down or if I'd just be too darn tired to do anything. I have come back rejuvenated, yes it tired me, yes I was in bed no later than half eight every night and yes I missed our bed but I feel more alive now than I have for the last three months.

I needed an almighty kick up the arse to get me going and break the routine of sitting on the sofa working on the homer dint. I have been out on my bike twice, I have taken Carys to see the Princess and the frog (quite good in a walt disney kids movie style thing) and I'm still awake.

For lent I have given up watching telly until 8pm and being a grumpy arse.

Cheers London for starting the changes............

Me, myself and I

2010-02-09T09:57:00.003Z

Who am I? It a question that I've asked myself many times over last couple of weeks. I've given myself many a stern talking to, trying to figure out why I'm such a miserable git. I should be happy, I'm alive and we had good news from the last ct scan. The lumps have responded to the radiotherapy and have reduced in size a little, they were never going to disappear but they've responded.

So why the sad face?

I feel like I have been a split personality over the last couple of weeks. I have been the public me, smiling and being positive. I have been the private me with Wendy and the girls, moody and unsure and I have been I, alone, driving, thinking, sitting, crying, wondering, surviving just my moods and my black days.

My body seems to be having the side effects from the radio therapy, 2 months after the treatment finished. For the last two weeks my rib cage has felt like it was in a big car crash and the skin on my chest and back has felt hyper sensitive. Putting clothes on hurts like bloody hell and having a shower is like rubbing my skin with nettles. Not that I've done that on purpose you have to understand, I'm not running for parliament. So sleep has been a precious commodity, once I'm off that's fine but it's when I move or the quilt moves it all starts again.

I went for acupuncture at the Cavendish Centre and it was interesting, I didn't feel anything (not even a little prick boom boom!), while I had the treatment. I felt a little better the next day and was meant to go back yesterday for the next session.

I didn't. I couldn't. I took George climbing on Saturday and decided to have a go myself, the first time since starting chemo all those months ago. I did four routes and felt that that was enough. I was pleased that I'd got to the top and hadn't fallen off. Last time I climbed I was about 15 stone, now I'm the best part of 17.5 stone and boy does it make a difference. I started to go down hill about two hours later, I'd had lunch and a snooze as my energy level just fell out of my backside. I never really recovered, I just became tetchy and emotional at the slightest thing. Even watching England beat Wales at Twickenham didn't raise a smile, I just felt like my head was getting darker and darker and my skull was becoming tighter as the game went on.

Sunday was no better, Wendy left me to lie in which should have helped but didn't. We went for a walk which usually helps but ended up causing more discomfort, particularly for Carys who fell in the river after slipping off a stepping stone which I should have been watching her across but I was taking a photo of George. Arse.

After an unproductive afternoon and yet another misunderstanding I started crying. Not like a baby, a baby knows why it's crying it's either hungry or cold or it's poo'd and it doesn't have the words to say what is wrong so it' cries and the parents figure it out. I was crying because I have a reasonable head which has a reasonable number of non swear words which I can usually string together in some sensible order, unless Guiness is involved, but I still didn't know what was wrong.

Monday morning and I went for a drive, over the Strines and down to Ladybower. Stunning countryside when you can see it, as it happened it was snowing and visibility was pants. But I didn't care, I didn't care about much, staying on the road or going off the road, getting to where I was going or not getting there. The cloud in my head was as black as night. I'm not sure when it happened but I started to think what a pathetic attitude. You have a wonderful wife and two amazing kids who would be upset and annoyed if you didn't live through this. Also the government have spent thousands trying to get me to live a bit longer.

I got to mum and dad's with the sole purpose of seeing how dad was, he's had a religion changing operation if you know what I mean. It was good to see him being so chipper and pain free after such a sensitive operation. I couldn't express how I felt to him though, I had gone there to see how he was, not for it to be about me.

As I was leaving I let my mouth go into overtime and upset mum, it was a childish thing to do, take out frustration on someone who has such an unconditional love for you. As I sat in the car sobbing I texted her and apologised. As I started to drive away she came out, I couldn't drive off and leave it the way it was that just wouldn't be right. So we sat and we talked, well she talked and I sobbed.

Finally it came out, the words got themselves in the right order and they fell out of my mouth as they fall out of my fingers onto this blog.

I'm not happy being ill but I'm not happy getting well what the f*ck is wrong with me? I just take my frustration out on the people I love, I hurt the people I love the most by being such an arse.

Once the problem had formed in my head I can start taking control of it. Mum isn't a massively religious person but she's got a deep spirituality about her and she suggested that if I was God fearing then I would believe that the challenges on this earth will test us but God would only give us challenges that he know's we are capable of fulfilling, whether we know that or not is another question. As that sank into my head she said that she hoped she was capable of living up to the challenge of the black card her son has been given.

I'm not a god fearing person there's only one person I'm scared of and that's Wend. I'm scared of losing her, of not living my life with her, of not growing old and more cantankerous with her.

So I came home and sobbed some more. I'd made my peace with mum, I cancelled the acupuncture session and I went to bed.

After waking and having a cup of tea Debbie Newby, the Lymphoma nurse specialist, rang me. I had wanted to ask her to go through my results again as there was terminology that didn't sit well in my simple brain and I wanted some clarification. As the conversation progressed I mentioned that while the care I received at the start of the journey was excellent this time now, the recovery time was very lonely. I also asked if there could be a physical rehabilitation system that would help cancer patients recover some level of fitness and whether that fitness would or could help their long term recovery. Whether anything comes from that or not I have no idea but I need to get my balance right again. My head is going a hundred miles an hour but my body is doing about five, I need to get going.

Whether I go back to the Cavendish centre I don't know, I guess I wanted a quick fix which was always going to be unlikely. But I also want to do things my way, if it fails then it's my fault not anyone else's. This makes it easier for me to live with and I do things to my standards be they better or worse than someone else I don't care, but they are my standards.

Phew it feels better to have that off my chest, perhaps I shouldn't leave it so long with out posting as it helps my head so much. Right going to chop wood in my man cave. Ug.

Good advice

2010-01-25T11:33:00.004Z

Is easy to give but not always so easy to heed. The put up and shut up is hard at the moment, I wanted to go back to work but didn't want to mess people around so I talked to my family and friends about their views on the subject. The general consensus was going back would be hard but it'd probably be good for my head, that I agreed with so off to the GP's I went to ask for a bit of an extension to my sick note and five minutes later I came out having been signed off for 4 more months. B*gger.

Not quite the result I'd hoped for but I have quite a bit of respect for the GP that I saw and when all's said and done I could get myself signed back to work early anyway. I spent the next two hours at work chatting to folk and drinking tea and passing on the news of my less imminent return which most people seemed to be disappointed with which I'll take as a compliment, either that or they're short staffed.......

Over the rest of the week though the GP has proved to be more right than I would have been. It took me a day of sleeping and doing very little to get over the visit to school. The slightest little thing can make me cry, every ache and pain be it from sleeping funny or dad dancing on the wii is blown out of all proportion. I have to be careful not to snap at the kids and Wend when I'm tired and it's very evident that if I'd gone back to school it would have taken very little for me to either have been in tears or ripping someone's head off, kids or staff alike. So my head's probably not in the best place for a return to work!

All this stems from not knowing. The radio therapy consultant was happy to say that I'm in remission, but without any proof. I like the optimism but I need proof, I need a fat lady singing with pom poms and a big fat ct/pet scan showing that the little bar steward is dead. Why they have to be fat I don't know but they just do.

In a bid to sort my head I visited the Cavendish Centre which is a charity based in Sheffield to help the families of and the sufferers of cancer. I wanted a fix, a magic wand waving and there we go your head is now as normal as it ever was........

I didn't get a fix, no magic wand and no normal head but to be honest I think I was a little unrealistic with my requirements! What I do have is a course of acupuncture starting in a week or so's time which I'm hoping will help my energy levels and possibly my breathing, I think it's unfair to ask if they can cure cancer, it may already be dead.

As ever it's my loved ones that are suffering the most. They suffer my moods, which aren't really anything new but at least I have something to be moody about now! On top of which they have their own worries and fears. They, as do I, worry what the scans will bring. Good news or bad, no more treatment or treatment which is probably more invasive and longer lasting. Who knows.

The only thing I know is that I couldn't have made it this far without my wonderful family and friends and the amazing strength that Wendy gives me every day. Every day the girls are well dressed and smart and ready for school, their bags packed with whatever they need and their dinner money in little envelopes. Any letter from school has been read and filed in the appropriate place, forms signed and returned. The milk man has been paid and the washing machine is full again. The house is clean and tidy and the food is fabulous. Top it all off with being a very professional nurse in a specialist hospital. It's this determination and strength to keep things normal that has helped me the most, it inspires me and stops me from being too much of a mardy arse. I love you Wend.

Put up and shut up.

2010-01-12T17:58:00.005Z

It's been odd writing about Christmas and the New Year, it took about four goes before it flowed. I don't read this stuff back it just comes out of my fingers and through the keyboard. I know when it flows and when it doesn't and don't bother trying if it's not flowing.

It was hard because it's a weird emotional time at the moment, waiting for the scans and a consultation which will hopefully give us the news that we want to hear. It became harder today, because of the radiotherapy I can't have a PET scan until the end of February, making my appointment on the 29th of January less than useful!

I don't know where I stand, I feel ok but I get tired quickly, I have been out on my bike and enjoyed it but get breathless easily and my head is great ninety percent of the time. Pants for the other ten percent but hey I'll take 90:10. My breathing is weird, most of the time it's brill but when I lay on my right side when I'm going to sleep it sounds either like I've a clarinet reed stuck in my throat or a kitten up my backside! So I don't lay on my right, it's not the end of the world.

How do I work the next two and half months, I want to go back to work and it'll be a conversation I'll have with work this week. I'm scared of going back to work as I haven't been for ages, I haven't used any skills I'd built up. I'm not sure where all my files are, are the kids going to respond to me, are the staff going to respond to me. Will I remember peoples names, staff and kids, will I be able to shout (if needed!), will I be physically capable of doing a full day, will I be mentally capable of doing the job that I love?

Or do I sit at home and get myself fitter, physically, get my files in order and plan for my return to work?

I wish it was simple, but it's not. I wish in a way that the cancer had been operable and some hot shot with some of Sheffield's finest steel in his hand could have chopped the little furball out. That would suit my head, problem, solution, sorted. But it wasn't to be like that so it's a case of deal with what's in front of us and live our life to the full until something tells us not to. Put up and shut up.

O! So wots occuring?

2010-01-10T19:34:00.018Z

Happy new year.

We had a great Christmas with Ma and Pa and Viv and Dave and all the girls, Georgia, Carys, Daisy and Lola. It was always going to be an emotional day and it was but there was no walking out or me being odd, no more than usual anyhow!

Wend and I woke up first on Christmas day morning, age and the male bladder is not a good mix. Wendy was just excited, a few loud coughs and some giggling (from us) and down the girls came. A bit bleary eyed but the eyes told the story of excitement and anticipation. Has he been? Did he leave anything......?

It's been the same since George could walk, I'd go downstairs and check and then call them down. An embarrassment of riches awaited them, no coal for either of them, they're excellent kids and enjoy the little things that santa brings. There's as much excitement about a journal or a note pad as they are about their one big present. Georgia had a micro Scalextric and Carys, true to form a Barbie house.

We had a lovely time at mum and dad's, family and food, gifts and gratitude.

Food and family

For new years we traveled to Wales. Due to the weather forecast being snow and more snow we used the motorways. I have a deep felt gratitude that I'm not driving up and down the country day in day out like some poor fools.

The next couple of days were spent eating, drinking, watching Gavin and Stacey and being merry. Last year on new years day Jacob and I survived the sea for charity, this year I wanted to do it again. Standing on the beach surrounded by like minded nutters was an experience I'll not forget and I will one day do again. This year was not to be, I wanted to but I heeded the words of Belinda, don't put Wendy through more stress than she's already going through. When you're fit and healthy yes, do it again but your body has to repair itself after the treatment's it's been through.

She was right, I live my life the way I want to and that includes not causing pain or suffering to my loved ones, except for the odd noxious gas that may escape sometimes.

It was an emotional time, Jason's dad has just started chemo for a Hodgkins Lymphoma and so it was with mixed emotions that we went round to see them. It's a weird situation to be in, you don't want to raise or dash hopes but I never want to gloss over something. All the way through MY journey it's been MY journey and I told Val and Geoff that this had to be Geoff's journey but my experiences were this that and the other. That way I felt true to myself but I could answer their questions, Wend remembered more than me and so was able to answer some questions. She also helped Val as Wend was my carer Val would be caring for Geoff so it's a far different perspective to look at.

It was also tiring, I did more and slept less than I have for months and it took it out of me by the end I was knackered. But that's not how I remember it, below is how I remember it, with the exception of the beer and curry that aren't shown!

Beautiful start number 1. Bring on 2010.

A beautiful start number 2.

Not quite a sponsored swim, it was warmer this year too!

When you get a surf board for Christmas it'd be rude no to use it!

1st Jan 2010......

What a difference 24hours makes!

George going forwards for once!

It's a style thing!

Anita laughing at Carys, Carys laughing at falling off, again.

An oofing big snowman and my first bike ride of 2010

Soup for the soul

2009-12-29T13:20:00.003Z

Soup is one of those foods that can be many things to many people. It can be zingy and thin from the orient or it can be thick and warming from oop north or it can be the cosseting blanket that is heinz cream of tomato.

I like soup for all the variety it brings but also it's a simple pleasure, nowt complicated just soup, kind of like me. It does what it says on the tin.

Soup for the soul (ingredients may vary)

1 x Amazing wife

2 x Incredible kids

Wonderful Family

2 x Christmas shows

2 x Christmas discos

1 x Visit to school (my work)

20 x teenage lads (yes really)

Numerous colleagues

Loads of friends

Hugs (as many as can be fitted into the day)

1 x blog with a daft title

1 x Christmas panto

1 x It's a wonderful life at the cinema

A good pinch of snow and cold weather

Mix well and season to taste!

As you may have read before the Christmas wishes my head wasn't a lovely place to be, it still has it's shadows and they are as dark as ever but they're fewer than before. They have diminished because of the experiences I had just before Christmas. As a working parent you don't often get chance to go to the kids Christmas fairs or their assemblies or even just pick them up on their last day of term. I got all of this this year and I can confirm that while it was loud and the carols weren't always in tune it was brilliant. Seeing their faces in their tea towels and tinsel as they went up and sang their bit was magical. The excitement of the Christmas disco and friends coming to meet up and have tea. (not the incredibly tired and grumpy children we had the next day though!)

I love our kids, they make me laugh, they've made me cry too (Carys just after my vasectomy!) but 95 percent of the time they're a joy. This year they've been so good, accepting my lack of hair, energy and health with grace and a lack of fuss. Their faces on the last day were pictures of relief, happiness, excitement and tiredness. They have both worked so hard and are doing so well at school, it's very easy to be proud of them.

I decided to make some brownies for work, partly because my head is busier than it has been and being creative is good for me. But also partly to say a little thank you to some amazing people who have been so supportive to me over the last seven months. I thought about going in on the last day but decided not to. The last day of school is for the people who have been there working through whatever management or the kids throw at them. I didn't want to be reminded that I hadn't been there for so long, plus I wasn't sure I had the emotional energy to cope with lots of people in one place.

As I walked in to work one of the groups I was teaching saw me and promptly left their lesson! As I came in through the door I was greeted by the majority of the group, all wishing me well and saying hello and just being really kind. Some of these kids are not the easiest in the world to get on with and I know that some had come to see me as a way to get out of their lesson but the majority were there wish me well. It took me aback, the warmth of the greeting, the hand shakes, the high five and the pats on the back. I didn't stay long as I knew the emotions wouldn't cope for long and crying is possibly not what they expect me to do!

The rest of the visit was similar, kids saying hello and being excited to see me. Staff giving me hugs and smiles and just being so welcoming. I don't know what I expected but the warmth shown to me was overwhelming and will keep me going for a long long time. Seeing Belinda was tops too, it was great to be able to say thank you for her little comments on this blog. Seeing friends and colleagues who's lives are changing and moving on. Pregnancy or marriage or promotion but looking happy and properly contented. Catching up with Mrs Knowles, Chris has one of those laughs that if you could bottle it would stop wars and bring world peace. She sent me a card very early on telling me to think of her laugh, it was one of the many support mechanisms that kept me going through chemo. It's always good to be able to give Judith a hug too, as my first point of contact if I ring into school she often gets bad news before anyone else, good news too but it's always easier giving good news!

Wendy and I had the fortune to have a kid free night, thank you ma n pa, so we trotted off to town to the Showroom which is a small independent cinema that shows off the beaten path films. Having been for a meal in town we went and watch It's a wonderful life, a lovely Frank Capra film about a business man who does the right thing and never seems to gain from it. It all goes wrong for him and he contemplates ending his life when an angel is sent to save him. In the end he is reminded how loved he is and how many friends he has and it is these friends that give him wealth, not financial but a wealth way more important and rare than money. It was wonderful, funnily enough, to sit there and immerse ourselves in something so sentimental but so close to our hearts. Yes we've had an interesting year and hopefully we'll never have another like it, but we have so many really good friends and such supportive family that it has to be a silver lining to a heck of a cloud!

Walking back through town with my beautiful wife I couldn't help feeling lucky. I have found such friendship from some amazing people and great support from family, this could be enough to make me feel lucky. But the slender little hand that was in mine that night as we walked through the glistening streets of Sheffield reminded me so much of how lucky I am. To meet your soul mate is one thing but to have the fortune to marry her and have a family with her is something I will cherish forever.

I've had one of the best Christmas' ever and to share it with the people I love was so much more than mere words can express.

Soup for the soul is a dish best served hot, in a big dish with crusty bread and a glass of water. It'll warm you from the bottom of your feet to the ends of your fingers and right through your very being. You'll know when it hits the spot..........

Merry Christmas

2009-12-24T19:25:00.003Z

I hope everyone has a wonderful time with friends and family. Thank you for the support and the many many cards we've received.

I have all that I need and all that I want and I feel like the luckiest man alive.

Health (working on it), wealth (family and friends are my wealth) and happiness (if the girls make it to 7 am then I'll be happy, very surprised, but happy) to all.

Merry Christmas.

Love from Nick.

He's BEHIND YOU

2009-12-22T11:27:00.004Z

Yes it's panto time again, as traditions go it's it's only been going a few years but how long to make a tradition? We round up the family and some friends and head off to the Lyceum in Sheffield for the afternoon showing of whatever. Sometimes the actors and acting is good, sometimes they're not. To be honest it doesn't matter, what matters is mad Geoff turning up in his bright red stetson (with white feather trim), riding the Supertram getting all sorts of funny looks, Shelly turning up and bringing food and cheer, Mum and dad and their slippers and Viv and Dave and their kids.

The tram ride is a always interesting with Geoff, I remember him tap dancing upside down on the ceiling but that's another story. Geoff looks more like santa than many shops santa's and is friendlier than them too. He laughs the loudest and the longest at the panto and although you have to translate Sheffieldish into Wigan it's a joy to see a grown man shouting HE'S BEHIND YOU at the top of his voice.

It's usually mum's birthday panto weekend so everyone comes back to ours and has food and chat and fun (hopefully). This year was no different except for the addition of a nintendo wii game thing, seeing mother virtual hoola hooping after a couple of glasses of wine was priceless!

This year for me was hard though, the tiredness side effect was kicking in about half five and emotionally I felt like I had demons creeping up behind me and my heart was screaming THEY'RE BEHIND YOU.

Demons come in different shapes and sizes for different people. For me they come in the shape of is this the last panto I'll go to, will the radio therapy have worked, will I remember how to teach when I go back, will I go back, will my fitness come back, how would Wend cope if this journey isn't over, how much more can my girls take, what if, what if, what if............

Logically none of the above questions can be answered without more evidence and therefore they're not worth worrying about. But when I'm tired and fed up and haven't the emotional or physical energy to keep up appearances they weigh heavy on the heart and I wonder if or when it'll break.

The umbilical cord

2009-12-07T11:46:00.010Z

Has been cut. No more treatment. Nothing more until the 7th of January, only possibly side effects from the radiotherapy. The treatment continues to work for a couple of weeks after the actual being zapped.

It feels really weird now, sat at home on my own (all say aaar!) the kids are at school and Wendy is at work. If I hadn't been asleep all morning I would feel like a real slacker. I didn't sleep well last night but even so I have a feeling the radiotherapy is starting to have an effect on my stamina. If that's the only thing it effects then I'll be happy.

We had a good weekend, Viv and Dave invited us to go the the Santa Special at the Peak railway at Darley Dale. Now anyone who knows me will probably recognise that I'm not really a big one for the commercial side of Christmas and going to somewhere like Meadowhell to see santa fills me with dread but this was great. The Peak rail only runs from Rowsley to Matlock and is run mainly by volunteers and enthusiasts. I have the utmost admiration for people who have found something to dedicate their lives to, it may not be my thing but they do a great job and I love the engineering of a hulking great steam engine.

The volunteers have put on a great service, you get a short train ride on which they have entertainers singing and playing or doing magic or bringing drinks and mince pies. It's not polished and it's not corporate and it's brilliant because of that.

The kids have a special ticket which entitles them to a gift from 'Santa' and he comes along and sits with them and has a chat. It wasn't forced or uncomfortable but it was fun and enjoyable and yes Carys has been a good girl!

We all went back to mum and dad's after for tea but Georgia had been suffering with a flu/cold/tonsils/sore throat so Wendy and I took her home and left Carys to be brought home later by dad. As it happened I'd run out of energy as well so I got sent to bed to recharge before going out for a curry with the biking crowd.

As we walked into the pub I recognised a group of people sat in the corner. It was another group of friends that I sometimes ride with and they were going to the same curry house! It was great to see them especially as one of them has recently been diagnosed as having cancer! Luckily it's one the consultants are confident they can remove using surgery, unfortunately this involves cutting his head open! Dave is a great bloke and is fit and strong from biking and this will stand him in good stead for the operation. It's going to be scary and different and stressful, especially this close to christmas but he has some great friends around him and wonderful missus so he will be well supported. Cheers Dave, hope all goes well this week and the surgeon has neat sewing!

The curry was fantastic, 21 and a bit people turned up. The bit was Lois who is a couple of months old and behaved better than the rest of us! These were people who had traveled from as far afield as Bristol and Scotland, Hillsborough and Totley! It was for me a perfect night, just enough beer, plenty of banter and fine fine curry.

Now it's about sorting me out, getting fit, getting my work stuff in order, getting my head round going back to work and shouting at some kids. Getting back to being as normal as I ever manage.......The hair is back, the beard is back I just need the all clear then I'll be back. It's going to be odd not having treatment and managing my time, I must set myself a routine and stick to it because otherwise I'll drive myself daft(er).

Nearly the end (treatment not me!)

2009-11-30T20:34:00.003Z

Treatment is going really well, I have a little burning in my throat which means swallowing can be uncomfortable, burping is weird and a hot cuppa is a bit of a no no at the moment. I feel a bit tired but then my body is being blasted by a multi thousand pound sunbed every day so a I guess it's going to take a bit out of me.

I had a bit of a hiccup on the first Sunday though, we'd had a chilled morning taking the girls climbing and going to a local farm shop for stewing steak. A headache had started to kick in when we were trawling round Sainsbury's which wasn't unusual, thank goodness for internet shopping (even though Wendy does it all!). As we got home I had become very sensitive to light and the headache was localised over my left eye, it kind of felt like the front of my head wanted to blow off. Normally if this happens a couple of paracetamol and a darkened room sort me out. Two hours later and I was scared, there was no position that felt comfortable. Wend came to check on me and we decided that as the tears running down my face weren't of happiness we'd phone Weston Park.

Whether it was the radiotherapy or just a migraine I have no idea but I've never thrown up with a migraine before. Weston park wanted me to go to Northern General A and E department so they could scan my head........the thought had gone through my mind as it had Wendy's. It's one thing having a headache from hell but to think that there's an extra lump somewhere just piled pressure on that I couldn't explain, other than I was in need of some different underwear.

Northern General is a huge hospital with thousands of people there at any one time. A and E was quiet and my time in the waiting room short as I was shown through to a little private room. I have no complaints with the NHS! The doctor who saw me was a nice young man, how old do I sound, who spent quite a bit of time on his hair and plenty of money on his watch but he had an easy manner about him. He went through various questions, some over and over, others a bit daft (any foreign holidays this year), having been told what this year consisted of! He also tested my physical ability and compared both sides of my body. His hands on my arms and I had to push him away, well he must have been all of 11 stone wet through so he got pushed.....Then he wanted me to lift my legs when he pressed down, he got lifted..... Then he asked me to squeeze his fingers but he'd learnt something as he didn't want me to squeeze as hard as possible! I apologised when his knuckles clicked!

As time passed and the industrial pain killers the nurse gave me kicked in the pain wore off, as more time passed I was moved to the CDU, Clinical Decision Unit, how the flipping heck are the going to make a decision if they haven't scanned me yet! About 45 minutes later I'd had a scan and they'd found nothing unusual but they had found a brain so I now have proof!!!! Ten minutes later I could go home. Physically and emotionally drained but well. The roller coaster had scared me and Wendy and mum and dad. The fact is I wouldn't have gone to the hospital if I'd had migraine before having cancer. The damn thing's messing with my head and I won't let it. Perhaps it caught me off guard and the radiotherapy had lowered that guard but my head's better now so bring on whatever as I'm ready.

Look at them thar hills!

(click the picture for a bigger version)

Part of the reason for being ready is walking home from the hospital, I take it steady and I only do it if I feel up to it but I look at the hills and think about riding my bike in the woods and over the moors and through the boggy bits.

The other reason is my amazing support network. My amazing wife without whom I have no idea where I'd be, mum and dad for being great parents, my close friends and the wonderful friends I have made at work.

I called in today to see the Boss and drop off a sick note, to me it's only right that I keep work up to date with where I am. They have been brilliant with me so far and to me it's a two way street. It's always a bit of a lottery calling at school as people may be teaching or on courses but I got to see some of the most important people today. I was blessed with hugs galore and kind words, sincere words too. It was a real lift but the icing on the cake was the number of kids who welcomed me and asked when I was back. I felt like I belonged, I no longer look weird (well comparatively speaking), I want to be back teaching. I want this to be over for me but also for my family and friends, it's tiring for them and I am so lucky to have so many wonderful people putting so much energy into helping me.

Thank you.

Radiotherapy

2009-11-20T12:58:00.004Z

I will try to make this post as long as it takes for me to have radiotherapy, while I appreciate that other people will have longer this is my story so this is what I experience.

"Nicholas Hart" comes the call, put down the 3 year old National Geographic, amazing pictures but very American.

"Can I just check a couple of details with you? Your date of birth and the first line of your address please"

"If you could take off your t-shirt and lay down on here and we'll move you into position" At this point I apologise for being a bit bigger than the average bear and wish inwardly that I wasn't my current 17 and a bit stone.

And that's about all the conversation you have really, there's the odd nicety now that I've been a few times but they are busy and with a great number of patients to see.

I can see the laser lines on my body in the reflection of the zapper (probably got a boxford 5002 serial number but I don't know it), I can also see the grading that is projected onto my chest. They move me about, a twist here and a nudge there. They call out numbers to each other and then draw crosses on my chest in pen. They measure the distance from my chin to my chest, hope Bruce Forsyth doesn't have to go through this. The zapper disappears under me and the read out more numbers. Then they leave the room, and I'm all alone with my thoughts, hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of machinery and the Shadows playing in the background!

Something that sounds like an angry mosquito happens behind me for maybe 20 seconds. I hear the door open, the staff come in, move the zapper to above me and leave again. Another mosquito sound and the door opens and the staff come in. I put my top on and leave. As the meerkat on the telly says, simples!

That's it. Probably 5 minutes all told even with shoving me around. So far I've had no sensation, I have a bit of a sore throat and am a bit tired but other than that I feel right as rain. Whether that'll continue I have no idea, I seem to think I felt ok after the first chemo. Radiotherapy may hurt but at least I haven't got drugs coursing round me and there's no reason for my hair to fall out again.

A semi-pants weekend (not big sweaty pants just pants that don't feel right)

2009-11-20T12:24:00.005Z

Well it wasn't the best, there was nothing particularly wrong with it just that my head was a shed.

Whether it was because the new treatment would start on Monday and I'm not a big fan of change or whether it was my feelings about the whole cancer situation I couldn't put my finger on it but I was a bear with a sore head most of Saturday.

Wendy is incredible as I may have pointed out a couple of times before. But on a rainy Saturday when Georgia and I are couped up in the house we get twitchy and cabin fever and start being at each other. One will say something or prod or poke at the other and then we have an argument and fall out about it. I hold my hands up and say I do this and it's not a parenting trait I'm proud of and it's something that I try not to do but Saturday was one of those days and Wendy knew it.

"Go on get your bikes out and go for a ride, I'll do some baking with Carys! We didn't need telling twice, I got the bikes out of the cellar and George went and got changed. We swapped a tyre, Georgia's first time so we went through the whole process and she did the majority, only the bits requiring brute force and ignorance did she leave for me. So we were mucky before we left, and boy were we mucky when we returned. George had a couple of offs but got back up and smeared the mud off herself onto the grass. Grinning like fools we rode for a mile or so through puddles and streams and along roads. Giggling to ourselves watching other like minded fools jumping in puddles and having a whale of a time.

Just before we came through the door George asked me if she could rub the mud off her hands on to her face to make it look worse. I said she could, it didn't add much to be honest but it was great watching Wend's face as we squelched through the door. Tea and medals were the order of the day, well hot chocolate and biscuits.

The weather is no longer something I chunter at, it's just something that makes me glad to be alive. Ok so when the rain water is trickling down your back and there is only one place it'll end up, it's not particularly pleasant, but I'm alive to feel it so that's good enough for me.

To see Georgia's face grinning from ear to ear covered in mud and dripping wet through just makes me happy. You know the happiness that sit's inside you like a crackling log fire on a cold winters night. It sits and burns and makes every fibre of your body feel warm and calm. B*gger drugs this is what makes me feel well.

Sunday was a weird day. Mum had invited us and Viv, Dave, Daisy and Lola to their house for lunch. It was to be a birthday lunch for her mum my Granma, which was a lovely idea. Granma lives in a home now and has good days and bad days but today was a great day for her. She was with it and only repeated herself a couple of times, hey I do it and I think I come from a long line of repeaters........so no worries there. She got everyone's name right and although she was a little confused at who belonged to who there were three kids screaming round and Lola who's still a babe in arms.

I'd spent the morning in my cellar, I don't have a shed but a cellar is much warmer! Putting up racking which mum and dad had bought me for my birthday and Christmas. I'd got into the flow and had lost track of time so when Wend called saying I needed to get changed it was a bit of a shock. It also kicked me emotionally, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to talk to anyone. If Wendy had brought me sandwiches I'd have stayed in the cellar all day, except for calls of nature. (note to self: research putting in downstairs loo) So it was a somewhat begrudging Nick that entered the fray that day.

Do you know what? It wasn't as bad as I'd thought it was going to be. Gran, like I say was on top form and the kids were great. Then I went, why I don't know but I felt like I was about to lose it. As there were some people outside I got up and went out, dad passed me something to put in the car which I took without registering and put it in the car. And there I sat with the boot lid open holding a rugby ball tears streaming down my face.

What if radiotherapy doesn't f*cking work? Well, what if it doesn't? round and round these questions went and I had the reason for my mood. Chemo had been a treatment which should have, could have sorted the cancer out and radiotherapy was to be a possible back up plan. Well hello, can I have another back up plan please?

It was dad that found me there, still crying, still holding the rugby ball, still looking for answers. It was dad that accepted my state and stayed with me and talked through it. No answers came but the cloud moved, taking with it some of the darkness. Thanks dad.

A fab weekend

2009-11-11T09:15:00.021Z

It's a really long way to Wales.

This was a big trip for us. For Wendy it was an emotional trip as her dad was getting married, for me it was the first time I'd been away from home for ages (other than staying at the Weston Park Hilton.....). The girls thought it was a big trip too as they got to take time off school!

We broke the journey down at Brian and Eve's near Shrewsbury (say shrew not shrow). Brian has been a family friend of Wendy's family since way back when and is a top bloke. He and Eve have a small holding and sometimes do the market in Shrewsbury, Brian does pickles and Eve does cakes and jams (conserves for the trading standards unit apparently) and they spend time working hard and then travelling in their motorhome. They are two of the most welcoming people I've ever met and I spent a great deal of time that evening putting the world to rights with Brian.

It was a welcome stop, I'd driven to Shrewsbury in the summer but then dad had driven home. The break allowed me to recharge my batteries and have a more leisurely trip to Anita and Jasons.

That soup is SO hot!

We stopped off at Nant Yr Arian at the top of the mountains before Aberystwyth for the loo and some lunch. On a nice day you can see for miles and there are dozens of red kites flying around the mountain and woods. This day it wasn't fit for feathers, flippers yes, feathers no. Anyhow we had a lovely lunch in a very quiet (as you can see above) but very lovely cafe. George is obviously on a growth spurt as she finished her sausage butty and then finished her sisters soup too! That'll mean more growth spurt shoe shopping then!

Blow damn you blow.....

Wendy apologised as we drove down the mountain, saying it wasn't a brilliant birthday for me. It was though, it was a superb birthday. I'd woken up, which was a good start, to my girls singing happy birthday and then spent the rest of the day with them. The rest of the day was, in my eyes, just as good. After arriving at Anita and Jasons we started unloading the car as the dog was going apoplectic in her box. Stella is a gorgeous little springer spaniel and is a little highly strung, she's seen us loads of times but was having a fit about us being there. I started building the fire in the wood burner and Wendy put the kettle on. These were obviously not the movements of burglars as Stella came out and curled up on the sofa with us!

Llys Y Fran Young Farmers Bonfire

Now being born on the 5th of November has meant that my life has always included fireworks, of the chemical kind. Whether it was the weird little smelly indoor type that looked like a weird pile of rabbit droppings or sitting in the back of my dad's car handing them out. Best explain that one, we weren't dealing fireworks, dad was on the parent friends thing at junior school and organised the firework display. So for a kid like me it was great sorting through hundreds of fireworks and then packing them in the back of dad's Rover SD1. On the night I'd sit in the back and hand them out in the right order to the people setting them off, I had one of the best seats in the house and as long as none of the fireworks came my way all would be well..........heaven only knows what would, could have happened but hey we're here now to tell the tale.

So as we were in Wales on bonfire night we had to find a local event, Llys Y Fran is a local reservoir and the young farmers group had organised a fire and fireworks. Two quid to get in and a huuuuuuge fire and 20 or 30 minutes of fireworks was great value. The weather was great, other than being a bit windy it was dry and not too cold. Yes the photo above shows Carys in ear defenders, funny how the one who makes the most noise in our house doesn't like the sudden bangs of fireworks!

Beautiful ladies

Wendy and Anita spent the morning getting sorted for the Wedding, with hair and make up being done and then lunch with their dad Bill. Carys was in seventh heaven as she went to the hairdressers too and had french plaits done but then got to see all the make up and stuff that hairdressers use. As you can tell I'm not a big one for the whole shebang but Wendy and Anita both looked beautiful with their full outfits. Georgia also wore a dress for the majority of the day and looked like a lovely young lady, not sure we'll get a repeat anytime soon mind!

My beautiful and amazing family

Wendy's mum passed away nearly nine years ago this December from a complication of her MS. Bill had been caring for her for many many years before that and doing a brilliant job of it too, I have always had the up most respect for the way that he managed and the way that it was always family first. His life has changed beyond belief since meeting Bron, he's more adventurous with food, he's traveled to Italy and Australia and he's living his life. He and Bron suit each other, they make each other happy and they obviously love one another.

The happy couple.

The service was lovely, touching and emotional. It was a brilliant day with love and happiness being the focus, in my mind it was the perfect ceremony for Bill and Bron, the people who matter were there and supporting them.

I raise my glass to the bride and groom.

Goose fat and my first tattoo!

2009-10-30T17:17:00.004Z

It was a weird floaty walk that carried me downstairs to the CT scanning reception. I had to check on my footing going down the stairs, the same stairs that I could hardly walk up or down during chemo were now easy.

The waiting room in scanning reception has some great magazines and feels light and airy, which considering that it's subterranean is quite a feat. Wendy set off for home to start spreading the news, there was no point in her waiting with me and Anita and the boys had come up so it was right for her to spend time with them.

I was feeling like I'd been given another chance and that everything was going perfectly today, even the scan I had didn't need any injections, so I thought.

When you get called through by one of the nurses part of you is nervous but part is just excited to get started. Having had so many scans on this journey they hold very little interest for me now but this was a little different. This scan is the one that allows the radiotherapy team to plan how and where they are going to zap me so it has to be really accurate. This means they measure where you are and how your head is held and they also mark on you so they can line the machine up time and again.

So top off and lay down on the carbon fibre bed (bet Jenson Button hasn't got one of those!), which in an air conditioned room is pretty flipping cold, glad it was just a top off job! The senior scanning blokey comes in and looks at me and looks at the scanner and says "Sorry we'll have to use the other one", other what I'm thinking, "You're not going to fit through this scanner". Cheeky blighter, I know I've put on weight but that's a bit harsh. "It's your shoulders, they're too wide, the other scanner is bigger." Oh ok my shoulders that's better, "You could get some goose fat or something", why I said it I have no idea but I did. Nope they didn't get any goose fat, nor did they laugh, I'll not give up the day job then!

Top back on and through to another (much) bigger scanner. Top off and lay down on another cold carbon fibre bed. Then came the measuring, from my chin to my chest and then they used a laser to line my head and spine up. Out come the marked pens and I feel like one of those boxes with a cut here line to get the save 5p coupon. I wondered if they were permanent marker but they're not so then comes the ink and the needle and ow, my first tattoo, ow, my second tattoo and ooh you little.........., my third tattoo. They're not exciting like a skull or anything they're just dots so they can line me up reliably and accurately every time.

The man from radiotherapy, he say YES

2009-10-30T16:52:00.004Z

Not that there was much pressure on the consultation yesterday but for me it could have been the beginning of the end. Having been told on Tuesday that Radiotherapy was only a possibility was like taking a safety net out from under me. It clarified my mind, gone were all the thoughts of going to Sweden for Charlie and V's wedding, the wondering if my girls grow up happy and contented, how Wendy would be and if I could stay as a ghost and protect them!

I don't think I've been close to death, I have a healthy respect for it as you're dead for a really long time, but I don't feel scared of it. I do feel scared of leaving people though and not seeing them or holding them close. Important people, family and friends. Listening to their laughs and conversations or seeing their faces as they tell stories about their day. I feel scared of leaving the world as well, I love the feeling of the sun or the wind or the rain or the mist or the snow on my face. The feeling of the early morning air filling your lungs as you cycle to work on a crisp and cold autumn morning, how it hurts but then becomes the norm and it wakes you better than any coffee ever ground. Seeing the leaves turn in the autumn and then reappear in the spring.

We have amazing lives, an amazing world to live in and I felt like I was going to miss it. Then Dr Thanvi said there shouldn't be a problem with giving me radiotherapy. I'm sorry can you just run that by us a again.........Radiotherapy is good to go, Houston we no longer have a problem. I started to smile and Wendy just looked like a ten ton weight had risen from her shoulders. We went through the side effects, 1 percent increase chance of cancer in about 20 years time, hey if I get 20 more years then that's a huge bonus. The way I was feeling that morning if he'd said 5 years more then I'd have taken that so 20 well lets just say I bought a lottery ticket!

You know sometimes when you meet a person you're going to get on with and Dr Thanvi is one of those people. Straight talking and immune to my jokes (amazing as that sounds), he showed us my PET scan and where the furballs are. He went through how they are going to zap the little bar stewards and how it may effect my lungs but as I'm young and healthy, I like him all the more for that, it should have minimal effect on other tissues. He also asked if I could have a scan done there and then which he organised and it felt like we were doing something again, we were starting a new chapter. Rather than it being the beginning of the end it was the beginning of a new start.

A great nights sleep

2009-10-28T21:17:00.003Z

That's what I had last night, don't ask me why but I slept better than I had for a week. Wendy didn't, understandably.

Last night I went over to a neighbours to explain that I wouldn't be working on the allotment. This morning we talked it through and I came to the conclusion that I'm alive and therefore I'm going to live it.

So today has gone. The numbness is less numb. The head is a little clearer and doesn't hurt as much. The heart still feels like it's breaking but then there is so much emotion weighing on tomorrows meeting with the radiographer.

Talking to Charlie on skype this morning was hard, so hard, he like so many people expected good news. The news that the radio therapy is only a possible takes some explaining and it hurts every time I explain it. Part of my head was wondering when, if, I see him again, whether we get to go to his wedding next year. If we'll ever ride together again and eat curry and drink beer and talk bikes and b*ll*cks. The other part was thinking about getting my head straight and getting to the point where I get on with living life.

The rest of the day has been kind of normal, playing with the girls and learning how to set up a Wii. Chatting to Gareth and sorting out for the allotment day tomorrow, fixing a sensor for the light in the conservatory and I even went out on my bike. Normal is good, normal is keeping me sane at the moment.

At the start of yesterday I was starting to worry about going back to work, getting my lesson sorted and trying to think of names and timings. Now I'm not stressing about work, to be honest I don't feel very stressed at all and I understand why. Work is something that I can control, I can be good or rubbish and that option lays in my hands. My furball is not under my control, it's just something that is happening regardless of my actions. So there's b*gger all point in getting stressed about it.

Lets see what tomorrow brings.......

What a crock o' sh*t

2009-10-27T21:54:00.003Z

cancer 1 chemo 0

However you look at it today was pants. The tumours are still alive. The chemo has had the effect of reducing their size and probably slowing their progress but it hasn't killed them. A*se biscuits.

So the next step is to have a consultation with the radiographer and see if radio therapy is possible. I say possible because they dropped a showbiz bombshell today, radio therapy may not be possible if it will cause too much damage to the lungs. So something that had been in the back of my mind a bit of a reserve measure but pretty much a keeper has now disintegrated into a possibility. Tops.

So the roller coaster continues to duck and dive, from the high of the last couple of weeks when I've felt brilliant to today when we had to tell the girls that it's not worked as we'd hoped. I had kept it together until then, it's difficult sharing your emotions with your wife when there's standing room only on the bus.........

I nearly cried on the drive over to mum and dads, how do you phrase it, what do you say, do you say anything at all? Our girls are amazing and are product of love, honesty and laughter. They have been so strong through this, they laugh and chat and take the mickey out of my grey/white hairs. They beat me up and they wind me up but they are so full of life and their souls are so innocent that they shouldn't have to have crappy news. But the honesty has to keep going and so on the floor of mum and dad's kitchen we had a family cry. Georgia understands more than Carys but she also bottles more up so it's so important that we keep her fully informed. There's been times when she's overheard something and then worried herself about it. So it was so important to tell her the truth.

The treatment hasn't worked and now I have to have some more.

The more it's said the more it sinks in to my skull so it was a little easier explaining to mum and dad. I also put in the details about the radiotherapy and the ifs, buts and maybes surrounding it.

I have an appointment on Thursday to see the radiographer. I asked if it could be another day as I'd booked a brush cutter to get started on the allotment with Rich, a friend with whom we're sharing an allotment. My consultant still remembers me shifting a ton of pea gravel the day before my first chemo so wonders if I'm at all sane..........answers on a postcard to that one.

All this is sh*t but the worst thing is the look in Wendy's eyes. The disappointment and the fear of seeing me go through something else, another treatment with unknown side effects. The wonder of whether the next treatment works or not. For me it's easy, I go they tell me what to do, they pump drugs into me or fry me or whatever is coming next and I go home and get looked after by my amazing family. But Wendy is the one the only one who sees everything I go through. She's the only one who really knows me as I am now and how to help or cheer up this lump of hair and gristle. But who helps her? (Wendy says lots of people!) I wish she didn't have to go through this. Not many options though so I'll stop being moody and crap and get on with getting on.

See what Thursday brings.

I've trimmed my beard!

2009-10-26T15:31:00.003Z

For the first time in ages I needed to trim my beard. I'm taking it as a good sign.

The past couple of weeks have been such a waiting game, waiting for the scan and now waiting for tomorrow for the results. It's been a busy (comparatively speaking) couple of weeks. I've had more energy, day by day and my head is back to it's busy self. I've been making phone calls, they were hard before as I'd get tired after five minutes and then it was an effort not to show the person that I wasn't always listening!

I called in to school again which was good but weird, I guess I'll now a little better tomorrow how long it'll be before I'm back. It's going to be an interesting exercise in pacing myself when I do go back, relearning all my lessons and the timings, remembering names (kids and staff alike) and having enough energy to do all of the above!

I found myself in Weston Park for an unscheduled stop this week as I seem to have picked up a bit of a chest infection. It was quite an emotional trip as although I didn't get any news or treatment, other than antibiotics, I got to talk with a couple of people that previously I'd just spoken to in passing. A lady who travelled in from Derbyshire every week for her chemo tablets, she'd been there when I went in for my first treatment and it was lovely to talk to her even though I found she'd be on these tablets for the rest of her life. I hope they've ordered plenty! The other conversation was a lovely couple of ladies who had been laughing their heads off at my first attempt to fill in a form for the pharmacist early on in my treatment. We met in the pharmacy again and had a good old chinwag about bread and butter pudding and teaching and life. It was just nice to be reminded that all the while we are people as well as patients.

The most emotional for me though was overheard in the waiting room. A lady was telling her heavily pregnant daughter that she wouldn't have chemo as she'd lose her hair nor would she have surgery for obvious reasons. It upset me and as if I could have had surgery to save me going through chemo then I would have and as for the hair well most of you have seen my thoughts on that. It saddened me as there was a human being not wanting to go through something that may prolong her life and give her longer with her daughter and unborn grand child because of the way she would look during treatment. I appreciate that for a lady the loss of hair is an emotional nightmare but it's not what the majority of blokes want either, it's just something that we have more chance of having to live with. Personally I never ever want to be bald again but if it happens then so be it. I hope she finds a treatment that suits her..........

It's been a brilliant couple of weeks as well, the kids are amazing and great fun. I've been getting fitter so we've been going for walks and playing more than has been possible. Mum and dad have bought me some tool racking for the cellar which is fab. I know it sounds sad but it means I can get organised and tidy things up rather than just wishing I had a cellar fairy, that probably sounds wrong, to tidy up. I've also been out with the boys for a curry and a beer, I was completely shattered the next day but it was great not being the bald weird looking one in the corner, at least I'm not bald anymore!

Tomorrow is results day, whether I sleep tonight or not is any ones guess. As for predictions, it'll be what it is, I'll either need radio therapy or not. The only thing I'm scared of is the scan showing up more than they were expecting and that the chemo hasn't been as effective as they wanted. But then that's me being dramatic and a bit stressy about things.

Like I say, it'll be what it is. Bring on tomorrow.

james brown

2009-10-09T14:19:00.008+01:00

Has a lot to answer for really. The video is kind of how I am at the moment. I feel amazing compared to how I felt a week ago and as for a month ago I feel on top of the world. The only problem is I go at it like a wild thing (well kind of) then my stamina leaves, it doesn't just leave it f**ks off!

Anyhow, I'm loving not being on chemo, my hair is coming back which is nice. You don't realise the job hair does, especially the hair that most people don't acknowledge, I'm talking about nasal hair not what you were thinking! Nasal hair stops particles going into your nose and it also stops your nostrils sticking together! As for the hair you were thinking about, man alive I'm so glad it wasn't a really hot summer. Enough said I think.

Well we've got a date for the next scan, 23rd October is when I'll be glowing like the underneath of a chavs corsa. Results will be on the 27th, not going to stress about it as there's nothing I can do about it now.

Confused..........

2009-10-01T12:20:00.004+01:00

Who am I? What do I do now? Should I be happy, sad, emotional?

I know who I am, obviously, but for the last six months or so I've been a bloke on chemo. A regular visit for a day in the comfy electric (reclining not USA gaol style) chairs having drugs and tea and biscuits. The steroids start in the morning, four foul tasting little tablets which mess with my distance perception (no driving), up my appetite (food, need food now, no not the healthy stuff, the salty snacky fatty type stuff, high in flavour low in goodness), and boost my energy just as the chemo starts to drag it down. The blood boosting injections start the day after the steroids finish, a regular visit from the district nurse (black coffee no sugar). My mood would drop on the tuesday after the steroids finish, try to keep level for the girls and Wendy, not fair on them to be too grumpy for no apparent reason.

But that routine has suddenly been taken out from under me. I'd got used to it, as much as I hated it and love the fact that I won't be having all those drugs coursing through my failing veins. I won't be peeing Irn Bru for a day after the chemo. I won't be quite so completely knackered. I won't have to find a conversation to have with complete strangers who are going through something similar or worse than me. I won't have to watch as women have cold caps fitted to try and prevent hair loss. These caps look like the things jockey's wear and come straight from the freezer, they change the blood flow around the hair follicles hopefully stopping them falling out. I'm amazed at the pain that people will go through to maintain their hair. But I fully understand how much more important hair is to women than it is to men, loads of people say I look younger with no hair! Have chemo look younger......... But for women hair is much more than a way or keeping warm, it can be an identity in itself and I admire the determination and the suffering that the women went through to keep some normality in their life. I won't be having mum and dad coming to pick me up, mum seeing the pain and dad seeing it but trying not to acknowledge it.

All those things are familiar to me now, they have been my life, the normal bits which I write about on here have been the special times. They have been the minority, they've meant more and they have been all the more special for the simple reason that I crave them, I crave normal.

Now I have to change, I have four weeks in which to start getting back to being me. The hospital reckon it'll take six maybe ten weeks before my body recovers fully from the chemo. Then I can start getting fit again and working on being normal, so long as I don't need radio-therapy. The four weeks will take me to the results of the next PET scan, four weeks in which I can worry about the result or get on with getting on.

Monday I start getting on with getting on. I'm going to savour tomorrow. Savour the fact that I can be outside, I may go and take a picnic and just sit outside somewhere. When you're hooked up to a drip and you take it every where, toilet included, you yearn for the feel of the sun on your face or the wind in your.....oops......on your head and even the rain, the sweet rain. That sounds like a plan, cheese and pickle salad sandwich, a bag of crisps and a bottle of water and a windswept hillside somewhere. Sounds like the start of something good.

As for my emotions, well they're close to my chest. I had a cry last night, I know it was Wend's birthday and I shouldn't be sad but I was. I felt like I was luckier than I deserved to be, to have got through stage one relatively unscathed. I've had very few side effects and I know how lucky I've been, seeing people who can't eat and drink, who have sores in their mouths, who can't breath properly without tubes up their nose. If I was religious I'd thank my god, whichever I believed in, but I'm not so I'll just be grateful to who ever will listen! I'm sure I'll start crying at some piece of music or something on tv and I won't have a reason just the time will be right. Until then I'll get on with life..........and whatever that brings.

No more chemo

2009-09-29T15:02:00.004+01:00

Like the title says. Just got back from the hospital and have been told I'll be having no more chemo. There was some shrinkage but not a significant amount and therefore they don't think anything would be gained by giving me any more.

Plan now is to have a PET scan in a couple of weeks which will show whether the mass that is left in my chest is alive or dead. If dead then congratulations buy a lucky dip you can get on with your life, if alive then zap the furball with radio therapy until it's dead.

I feel like sleeping for a week now, just exhausted. I'm sure my emotions will get the better of me at some inopportune moment but hey that's just me.

We're not out of the woods yet but we're going in the right direction. Best go and wrap Wendy's birthday presents.

TTFN

Look mum a willy

2009-09-29T10:56:00.004+01:00

Carys pointing out the obvious, in her loudest voice.

Happy Birthday mum.

The girls returned, happy and healthy from their trip to Wales and the house sang again with love, laughter and happiness. It felt real again, being alive, surrounded by so much life.

Other than more injections and another course of antibiotics for a small throat infection the last three weeks only have three noticeable points. Another CT scan with another barium based drink, didn't taste any better than last time and the results come back today. It's one of the reasons for this post being a bit staccato, the results determine whether I have more chemo or go down the radio-therapy route, so I'm a little anxious.

The second high point was going into school. I had a day feeling really well, you know normal, so the next day when I felt great again I went in to Winterhill (where I work). I have a had so much support from people there that I wanted to see some of them and just say thank you. Along with Wendy and the girls returning from Wales the next big emotion was the girls and my friends and colleagues going back to school. It was a reminder that however I felt, I was still ill and I have a long way to go. Sometimes you get so see the people you want to but the first hurdle was I didn't want to get out of the car. I wasn't scared but I was nervous, nervous of how people would react to me, whether I'd scare any kids (not always a bad thing) and whether I'd be emotionally strong enough.

I needn't have worried, I had a lovely welcome from everyone I saw, the kids and the staff. I saw people who send me text's every now and again just to see how I'm doing. People who ring me up and just chat (cheers Dennis), people who post on here sometimes and people who write me letters. I brought one woman to tears, not the first time I might add, but in a good way (she assures me). I had smiles and waves off kids and plenty of hugs from staff. Although it made me nervous about germs and the like the physical contact and the emotional support that a hug gives far outweighed any worries. I had a good chat with the boss, about this that and the other and I was made to feel welcome. Which sometimes when I look at photos of myself I'm surprised that people look past me now and see the me that they knew.

The other high is that it's Wendy's birthday tomorrow so we had a day out to Chatsworth. Sotheby's have a load of sculptures there at the moment and we took a picnic and met mum and dad there for a glorious few hours walking round. I took the low route with dad as I was tired but the girls went off exploring and found more of the installations. It was a glorious time and the high point for me was the ample couple, just a very clever piece of casting. Then in the evening Wendy and I went to Artisan at Crosspool. Mum and dad had the kids overnight which was superb, even so we were home for 9 to watch the Strictly come dancing we'd taped earlier! I felt quite adventurous (I don't as a rule like fish) so started with scallops on pork belly and then had baked cod on a crab risotto for mains. They were both delicious and the head waiter was brilliant in advising about what may be less safe for me to eat, so thank you to them.

Right going to get some lunch now and then go and find out the results of the scan. To be honest I have no idea what I want the results to say, other than they're growing back (that'd be bad). More chemo means less scar tissue possibly, but more likelihood of a baggy heart, to go with my baggy belly. No more chemo means more scar tissue staying in me and the possible start of radio-therapy. Who knows. Go with the flow.

The worst week that was......

2009-09-25T13:17:00.005+01:00

Firstly an apology, I've not posted anything for a while and the simple reason is I've not understood how to write this post. So sorry for not posting and sorry if this doesn't flow very well.

After my stint in hospital and then the worst chemo I've had I was pretty shattered, just tired of the process, of the drugs, the feeling pants, looking like a warmed over turd and being tired and a bit ratty all the time.

Our anniversary was wonderful, a glimmer of normality in a starless night, it was the start of up. Cancer for me and everyone who knows me is a roller coaster full of ups downs and round and round. The problem is it's like the old coaster at Alton Towers which ran in the dark, you have no idea which way is next.

The day after our anniversary meal dad took the girls and Wend to Shrewsbury station (I'll explain in a minute) and I stayed at home waiting for the district nurse to come and give me a blood boosting injection. Wendy and the girls were going to Anita's for a well deserved holiday and a bit of normality. The idea behind Shrewsbury (say shrew not shrow) was it's kind of half way and it was a whole lot cheaper than going all the way. Also changing trains in Birmingham new street with two small children and a case which she could probably fit it was not Wendy's idea of fun! Mine either.

I was hoping to go with them in the car to the station but I knew it'd be an emotional farewell, the nurse coming to give me an injection was a cowards way out of the public show of emotion. So I did it on the street instead! I knew they'd have a great time, playing with the dog and the cousins and going to the beach and just having a change of scenery would be so important for them all, especially for Wend.

Wendy is an incredible human being, not big in stature but massive in heart and determination. It is her that has picked me up so many times when I have fallen, mentally and physically. It's her that gives me the strength to carry on, to be me.

I was a weird teenager, I was known as Roger Hart's son or Viv Hart's brother. Now the reference to dad is fair but to be known throughout secondary school by your younger sisters brother was frustrating. Whether it was because I loved the infernal combustion engine more than football or I didn't wear the right clothes or what I have no idea but I wasn't a happy person at school. Leaving school gave me new friends but I still hung around with the old crowd which did nothing for my development.

Years passed and I saw the friends for what they were, not friends at all but a group of people who would never change. They'd drink in the same pub, live in the same area, support the same teams and their kids would do the same. So the cycle continues.

I didn't know what I wanted but I knew I didn't want the same as them. So by accident more than design I went looking for something different. I found a different group of people, who turned out to be the same but with different labels and different faces but the same blinkered outlook on life. It was fun for a while but kind of empty, getting drunk, going home (alone) and then doing the same thing the next night.

Then Wend came along, a true breath of fresh air, a young lady who'd grown up in the country and had moved to Sheffield to follow her dream of being a paediatric nurse. She was adaptable, determined and downright stubborn at times. I knew I'd met my future, two months after meeting I asked her to marry me, I don't think anyone expected it but I didn't care. If I let this person go I knew that I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

Yes we've had good days and bad and we've said the odd cross word to each other but it's because I love her. I love the way that we end up laughing at inappropriate things, the way that she's so honest, how stubborn she can be (especially with water fights, just don't. I did warn you!), how when it's cold she disappears into one of my jumpers and curls up on the sofa with a cup of tea. So many reasons, yet she is the one person that sees the real me all the time. The me that is hurting, that is tired to the point of exhausted, that shouts at his kids for no reason other than I can't think of what words to use to explain what I really mean, the one who has such bad farts they wake him up in the middle of the night (I blame the anti-biotics Wend would probably say different). You know she see the warts and she still loves me. She's amazing.

And for a week she's in Wales.

I spent a couple of nights at mum and dad's being looked after which was lovely. I spent an afternoon and evening round at Mark and Jills which was great just talking bikes and stuff and having my tea cooked for me. All the while the injections carried on and I spoke to the girls and Wend every day, sometimes twice or more.

I coped, I found that my head went into a weird coping mode. I had little emotion that week, I had a good cry one night when I missed everyone but other than that I found I was preoccupied with the Injections. They were to boost my white blood cells, which they did, a side effect which I'd got myself wound up about was bone pain. Mmmm bone pain, must be good if the mention it in the leaflet, I wonder when that'll kick in, if at all.

2:30am OH MY G*D, what the f***ing hell is going on....move, come on fatty move. Movement made the pain go a little, so I moved. All over the bed, upside down, crouching, stretching, bending, hanging over one side then hanging over two, stood up, squatting. Walking helped a bit more so around and around the bedroom I went. Went to the loo, difficult to get it all in the toilet when your pelvis feels like it's being crushed with metal clamp. Bend down to clean up, oh that's so not a good position to be in, I hope I don't bang my head and get stuck like this. Ooh you little F****r, must read the side effects, miss the bottom stair and jar my back, great. Read, come on eyes focus, right bone pain may be treated with normal pain killers. Right then pain killers it is, I can't believe they'll do much but I have nothing else to try. 2 paracetamol, not touching it, 2 brufen, 20 minutes later and I was asleep, not soundly but I was comfortable, ish.

A bit of up and a whole load of love.

2009-09-09T16:02:00.003+01:00

The weekend came and went, I was in a better mood by the Sunday, still pretty wiped out but in a better frame of mind.

Monday our Viv had her second baby by ceasarian, baby Lola came into the world happy and healthy and with a full head of hair. Dave (my brother in law) was in attendance for as much as he was allowed to be and then the electronic notification started whizzing around the world. As much as I wanted to go with Wend and the girls to visit I was scared of going out and on a purely selfish basis I wanted to save myself for that night.

You see Tuesday was our wedding anniversary. Nine years, a tip for singletons reading this, get married in a year which is memorable and easy to do the maths, we got married in 2000 which makes life for a simpleton like me much easier! In those nine years there have been births and deaths, job changes, redundancies, retraining, working away, arguments, laughter and a whole load of love.

I met Wendy through a blind date arranged by a wonderful friend. Gwyn was my boss at the time and had suddenly exclaimed one day that she knew the perfect woman for me, not bad considering we'd only worked together for a couple of months and then it was only a 12 hour shift on Saturdays! To say I was sceptical was an understatement, I'd never been particularly lucky in finding the right person, I guess I wasn't actually sure of what or who I was looking for. As blind dates go it was interesting to say the least. We went out as a group from work and although Gwyn had described Wendy to me I'd never seen a picture so when the person Gwyn described walked into the pub I nearly walked out. She was, well, er, putting it politely, not my type, possibly not anyones type! I'm sure she was a nice enough person but not my cup of tea.

I was wondering where Gwyn was as I thought they'd have come together but there was no sign and then they walked in. Now that was more like it, not the tallest person in the world but everything in the right place and cetainly not hard on the eyes, even before the beer goggles had kicked in.

We had a pub crawl which coincided with another groups pub crawl. I ended up being a bit of a tart and dancing with a woman from the other group in Roxy's. Gwyn came up to me and told me I was going to lose Wend if I carried on carrying on. Something in my beer drenched mind decided to stop the dancing and go and find Wendy. She was at the bar buying me a drink, not too bad I thought, but then she explained that she was only buying it for me as I'd bought her one earlier and she didn't want to owe me anything!

We got talking and talking and talking and talking. Until about half four in the morning on Gwyn's sofa in the middle of the manor estate in Sheffield. Yes it was just talking. As the beer was wearing off I realised the time and called a taxi, I had to be at work (for Gwyneth) in an hour and a half. B*gger!

For the next two weeks I had no contact with Wend as she'd gone home to Wales and Gwyn wouldn't give me her number. I thought that I'd been in love before but those two weeks made me realise that I hadn't. Nothing felt like the yearning I felt, I just wanted to see her, see if she was real, see if she liked me just to be with her again.

I proposed after two months and although my dad had to come down off the ceiling and Wendy's dad thought I was gay, we both finished our courses before getting married and we've been together ever since.

To say that we've some stories would be an understatement, we've had good times and bad but we've been honest with each other and that along with our love and a fair amount of laughter has pulled us through.

The love that I felt all those years ago that convinced me to share my life with someone else has just grown and my admiration for the blonde bombshell I married has multiplied many times over. When we started courting I wanted to wrap Wend up in cotton wool and protect her from everything. I soon found out that Wend is not one to hold back with her thoughts and she didn't want wrapping up. It's this strength that she has that has pulled us through so much. She is so dedicated as a parent and so strong as a wife that I thank Gwyn every day for introducing us. (In my mind, I think she'd get fed up with all the phone calls).

We'd booked Mum to baby sit, cheers mum, so off we trotted into Sheffield for a pint and a curry. Well it ended up being a couple of halves of strawberry beer at Platillo's in Leopold Square and then a superb curry at Aagrah, underneath Platillo's. I remember many years ago driving past a curry house with an elephant outside, turns out this was one of the first of the Aagrah chain of restaurants. We had a fabulous meal and I managed two thirds of my pint before it all got a bit much. Steadily we reached the tram and made it home, twenty past seven, dirty stop outs we are! The girls were still up and it was still light and I guess it was the shortest baby sitting in history but I was done.

I'd had a fabulous time with my stunning wife, it was the night I wanted but given the circumstances it was a darn site better than it might have been.

Thank you Gwyn.

A lot more down (I hope this is the bottom)

2009-09-03T12:41:00.008+01:00

Sunday came and went, the old boys on the ward were a good laugh the banter floed freely and my spirits rose although my energy levels were still in my boots.

Wendy and the girls came to visit as did mum and dad, as the person being visited it's lovely to see these people and obviously seeing Wend and the girls is magic but it's also hard. It reminds you of what you're missing and of a place you'd rather be, that's not to say I didn't want visitors it was just where my head was.

I was confident that I'd be going home that evening, how wrong could you be. Three day's later I was leaving, it had taken that long to get my blood well enough for me to fight infections as and when they came along. The neutropenic situation basically means that part of my white blood cells, the neutrofil, were at a critically low level. This meant fighting something as simple as a common cold could have become life threatening! That'd be rubbish wouldn't it, at the funeral, "well he beat cancer but a cold got him!"

I came out of hospital feeling lucky, two of the guy's on the ward had terminal lung cancer, a woman I got chatting to had two tumors removed from her brain but they'd come back and so it went on. As far as I can see I have a damn good chance of beating this and getting back to being as normal as I ever am, so I'm lucky.

I should have been having chemo the next day but they didn't think I'd be up to it so it got put back to Friday. I rested and rested and rested and waited for my next dose of poison. Chemo is one of those things you go through, you exist through it, my existence on that friday was pitiful. I hadn't got much left energy wise or emotionally and it showed. Usually I can chat to the nurses or other patients but this time I chatted a little and buried myself in my magazines and books. A friend, unlucky Steve (long story) who had visited me while in hospital, had leant me the second of Lance Armstrong's books. Both are worth a read even if you don't like cycling they're well written and show humour and humility along with the desire to win at everything be it cycling or cancer he wants to win everything he does. Every now and again a line of the book would provoke the odd tear, it'd be a shared experience. Some famous bloke in Texas with some big bloke in Sheffield, sharing fears, highs lows sentiments, a love of bikes through the pages of a book. The second book talks about being a survivor and how hard it is, how getting the balance of living life like you've been giving a second chance but also being the person you were before cancer. It's fascinating from a people watching point of view but scary from where I was.

I sobbed, behind my hands, in an empty room. Watching the drugs go in and feeling like they were doing me harm not good, got me. It got me so that I couldn't think clearly, I hurt, my head hurt from all the thoughts and my chest hurt from sobbing. Sally was brilliant, there were only two nurses left on as I was the only patient and she just sat and listened and gave me a hug and was just a sympathetic human being. I guess it's part of the job but it's not something you can train for.

My drugs finished and mum and dad arrived to take me home. I think i've looked rubbish after chemo before but not as bad as that, it ended up with my crying, Kaz (the other nurse) crying and Sally wiping her eyes. I gave them both a hug and thanked them, the staff at Weston Park do an amazing job and do it in such a way that you never feel foolish or pitied just cared for.

The only thing I wanted that night was a chip butty with curry sauce and my family. Food first as I had an inkling that my lousy mood was partly fueled by a lack of food and then hopefully I'd feel better when I was with my family.

I don't remember much about that weekend, I can't imagine I was much fun to be around. I wasn't crying as much but I didn't have much to give anyone, the combination of steroids, oral anti biotics and a fresh dose of chemo probably proved to be quite a cocktail for my body to take.

The roller coaster the start of down.

2009-09-03T11:58:00.007+01:00

I apologise for not having posted over the last couple of weeks but it's been a little bit busy in the world of Nick.

Having the girls home was fab, made the house sound right again, laughter and song and just general busy-ness. The focus would be Geogia's birthday, eight, where the flipping heck did the time go? Now it's awkward having a birthday in August when you're school age, all the people you want to invite end up going on holiday so parties aren't particularly overcrowded!

George loves pizza and so, as it was her party, pizza it would be. But not any old pizza, homemade pizza dough and homemade pizza sauce and toppings designed by George. Wendy made the dough and the sauce (complete with hidden vegetables for my benefit) and George did the toppings. It's safe to say come my birthday I'd like Wend to make more pizza's, they were fantastic and there was only a couple of pieces left over for lunch the next day.

I made it through the family party on the Friday, I'd felt better but I just put it down to being tired and having done too much.

Saturday came and George was going bowling with her friends that were not holidaying, Carys and us. That soon turned into just Wendy taking the girls down to the bowling and mum and Wend's friend Shelley meeting them there. I was in pieces, Georgie had a friend staying and what she must have thought of this big bloke sobbing into a pillow I don't know. Carys being Carys just asked straight out 'Why's daddy crying?'. I had nothing left, no energy, my get up and go had effed off!

By the evening I'd got worse and my temperature finally hit the 37.5 degree mark that constitutes a phone call, whatever time of day or night, to Weston Park. We both knew what was going to happen so Wendy phoned Mark and I got my overnight bag together, well I picked it up, as Wendy keeps it pretty sorted for times likes this.

You know you're bad when one of your best mates picks you up, looks at you and says "Yep you look shit". Not one for mincing his words Mark says it as he sees it and it's one of the reasons I love him as a friend, you know exactly where you are with him. He stayed with me for the best part of two hours while they tooks some observations and got me to swab for MRSA (one up the nose, one round the groin). It was a support that I didn't know I needed but it kept me together for the time being.

Being admitted was no hardship, I knew in my head and my heart it was the best place to be. Being jabbed several times for blood samples is also par for the course. Being woken up at half one in the morning by a very nice but very quietly spoken doctor and being told you're neutropenic was weird. Now I'm not the best at being woken up and being woken up by someone other than Wendy or mum puts me into an automatic who, what, where spin which was only stopped by the very patient sister. She was great, considering she'd stopped me spinning she allowed me to come round a bit before she put a cannular into my arm for the litre of saline and the intravenous anti-biotics that I had been prescribed.

Sleeping in hospital on a ward is weird as I have mentioned before. You have to get used to four other blokes snoring, farting, belching and the noise of sleeping on a plastic coated mattress always takes soem getting used to. Add to that a drip in your arm which you really don't want to lay on or pull out and it makes for a less than restful night. Having said that the old boys on the ward did tell me of a previous patient who woke them up one night shouting and screaming, they awoke to find this bloke knelt on the floor with his head under a chair bum in the air with no pyjama bottoms on............

An update. Our girls are home!

2009-08-24T21:06:00.007+01:00

As anyone who knows us will attest our family is everything. We work as a four, no more, no less so it was a hard week for Wend and I when the girls went to Wales. They went to stop with Aunty Noo and Uncle Jase and the girls favourite playthings, Ryan, Jacob and Stella the bonkers springer. Their home for the week is a little slice of heaven in wet Welsh Wales.

Shakes and cakes

Sheffield's temporary big wheel

Well they had a whale of a time, riding bikes and body boards. Running round the huge graden chasing and being chased, hide and seek and being kids. Happy and active kids.

Wend and I survived, we spoke to each other, we laughed and held hands and were a couple. A couple that continually talked about their kids, wonder what they're doing now, can we talk to them yet, will they be awake, hope they're going to the toilet regularly. But we were a couple and being just us some of the conversations were freer and more open, not snatching time when the girls were outside, nor listening for when they were on the stairs.

Anyhow Wendy's dad, Bill and his partner Bron, brought the girls home about a week after my fourth chemo. I felt good, really good. Active and alert and although I got tired I felt genuinely good for the first time in ages. Perhaps it was a sign..... Anyhow we took the girls into town and to East One for tea as a welcome home and also for Georigas birthday, a bit early but it allowed her to celebrate with Bill. Blow me down she ate most of her meal with chopsticks. Going to Wales always brings her confidence on, physically and emotionally she'd changed. I don't think it's the water but maybe.....

We then walked down into town and went on Sheffield's temporary answer to the London eye. Half the size but what an amazing view, even more amazing when Bill paid, cheers Bill. Now I'm not one for heights but since having kids I've decided they're not going to inherit my fears. So on we get, repeating the mantra "don't be sick, don't be sick, don't look down, oh fourpence halpenny, don't look down" round in my head. It'd have been a waste of a great meal.

Anyway I wasn't sick, no-one was, and we had a great time just being normal. For me being normal is where I need to be, it's a long term target, how normal well that's open to discussion but as normal as I ever get.

For a week and a half I was normal, the hair on my chin started growing back with some consistency. I was driving my car regularly, not something I do when my concentration isn't there, we were going to the shops. Not big shopping trips or anything but more than just me being ferried there and back. We even went to the pictures, twice, the second time was for Georgia's birthday proper Ice Age 3 in 3d. It was great really funny and the 3d stuff worked really well with the weird glasses on.

That evening we had Ma n Pa round and aunty Shelly called too for homemade pizza's. Wendy made the bases and everything and they were superb, way better than the supermarket ones, even the good ones.

Then I started feeling a bit pants, but it's my first borns birthday so we're going to get on with it.

Friends and Family

2009-08-20T13:37:00.004+01:00

They're what get you through, they're the ones that keep you going when it's pants. Mark seems to cop it when I need to go to hospital, both times I've been kept in he's taken me up and both times he's been shocked at how sh*t I look. But he comes and he sits and waits with me, averts his eyes as I swab my groin for MRSA and generally talks b*ll*cks with me while they sort a bed for me.

Mum and Dad have been amazing. Without their help with the girls this summer would have been awful. They've been supportive without being intrusive which is a hard thing to do.

The Neutropeonic thing that Wend posted about was basically my blood didn't have enough soldiers in it to fight out of a wet paper bag let alone a cold. I felt cr*p, just laid on the bed Saturday before my temperature spiked forcing me to ring the hospital again.

It's still a humbling experience going to one of the wards and listening to other peoples tales. Seeing people with terminal lung cancer hacking up every five minutes and spending three hours a day on a nebuliser but still being cheerful and laughing a joking is inspirational but emotionally draining too.

So I'm home, knackered but home. Humbled by positive attitudes and just getting on with it.

he's coming home he's coming home fatboy's coming home!

2009-08-18T13:36:00.004+01:00

Well I'm home.

Will post more about the experience later.

(oops sorry about the earlier title!)

2009-08-16T18:38:00.002+01:00

The things Nick will do to avoid a sleep over!. Nick is currently an inpatient on ward 3 at Western Park Hospital. Since mid week we have known he was brewing something! By Thursday he was very ropey, but determined not to be admitted as it was Georgia's 8th birthday on Friday, he was a trooper all day , didn't make it to Georgia's bowling party and by Saturday night looked awful, had a temperature and had to go in. Georgia had a friend staying for a sleepover and I think all the giggling and pop music finished him off! So basically his blood count is out and he is neutropenic he will be having Intravenous antibiotics and daily blood tests and once they are happy with them he should be let out! As for his planned chemo session on Wednesday we don't know yet, his consultant will decide that over then next few days. Sorry it's a short post I don't have quite as much time as Nick!
Wend x

Can I ask you a really personal question.....?

2009-08-06T11:07:00.009+01:00

Debbie

Debbies old steed

It was the third Christmas do since I started at Winterhill that I first really spoke to Debbie. I was wandering around being a nosey git and talking to people that you don't usually get time to talk to at work. It's interesting talking to different people, finding out their interests and hobbies and about their families and just getting to know a bit more about someone who you pass in the corridor most days. Sometimes it leads to a similar interest (motorbikes in this case) or sometimes it allows a link between departments that you hadn't seen or been able to use before.

Anyhow I'd plonked myself down at Debbies table and was chatting and watching the world go by. We'd talked before but not at length, Debbie is a teaching assistant who accompanies some of the more difficult students, an incredible assett to my lessons. She's one of those very patient people but unlike some she won't be messed about and you'll know very clearly when she's not happy! Debbie also works closely with the students in the centre, who are on modified timetables or go out to do more practical learning, so you often see her out in rigger boots and a Hi Viz jacket taking a group of lads out to build a wall or a path or something.

All I knew was that her son and daughter were at the school and she had a flair for art and design, I'd seen her sketching in some of my lessons. Anyway late in the evening I find she has a passion for motorbikes and travel and for workign hard as the teaching assistant job wasn't her only one.

We had a great chat and laughed at people embarrasing themselves and getting drunk and that was that. We finished for Christmas and she went and did family things in Rotherham and I did family things in Sheffield and Wales.

So the first Monday back, hmm don't like mondays but they happen every week and this year I had a couple of free periods first thing so it softened the blow considerably. Sat there working on my computer and the door opens, "Oh hello, have a nice christmas?" without looking up it was going to be the right question whoever was there......

Debbie seemed distracted but said she'd had a good one but "Can I ask you a really personal question?"...... Now it's not the usual monday morning greeting and if I wasn't happily married and had been drunk at the Christmas do then I'd be worried!

How personal could it be? It can't be that bad can it? "Yes if you want to, I may not answer it though!"

"Are you Derek Hart's son?" Now unfortunately I heard Eric Hart, so after a little clarification we came to Derek. "No, not me, why?"

"Oh I just wondered, having talked to you at Christmas I was just wondering." Debbie looked disappointed at this but not worried.

"Was his brother Roger and did he live on ******* Lane in Sheffield?"

"How did you know that?"

"He was my uncle."

"What do you mean he WAS your uncle." Debbie hadn't said why the question but now picked up and the terminology I used.

"Oh he died a couple of years ago. Why do you ask about Derek?"

"He was me dad!" Came the showbiz bombshell! Not what I was expecting in any shape or form.

It turns out uncle Derek had been a little, busy, in his past and had been sharing the love with Debbies mum. Once Debbie was more than a twinkle in an eye Derek upped and offed and went back to being less generous with his love, as far as we know!

So I started the day having three cousins on my dad's side and was to end it with four. On the phone to mum at break time, "just been talking to a cousin of ours" "Which one, Alison?" "Nope" "Paul" "Nope" "Joanne" "Nope" "Well we haven't got any more cousins." "Well we have now!"

My (fur) balls are shrinking

2009-07-28T16:31:00.004+01:00

Yes you read correctly I now have two furballs. Well technically I've always had two, just that they were squashed together and looked like one on all the scans! (Imagine two balloons inflated so they squash together, then deflate both bit by bit but don't move them).

So by the fact that we can see two means there has been shrinkage. One has shrunk by approximately 30 percent and the other by approximately 40 percent. Yippee.

I went today wanting shrinkage or some sort. I got it. I feel emotionally drained by it now though. Don't know why but just feel kind of flat.

Anyhow the future goes something like this:

Another CT scan after the sixth treatment.
If more shrinkage is apparent then I'll have the full eight sessions.
If no more shrinkage then I'll have another PET scan which will show if the cancer is dead or alive.
If dead (the cancer not me!) then yippee party on, but with three monthly clinics sessions for the first year and four monthly for the second year as there is an increased risk of it returning in the first two years.
If not dead then I'll start on radio therapy the details of which I don't know yet, to be honest I don't want to know them either!

I'll get there, we'll get there, when I'm not sure but we will and we'll continue to get on with life because it's well worth living.

Thank you for all the support so far to everyone and even the smallest thing like sending me a text or email gives me a lift. Sometimes a very welcome experience! I'm very lucky to know some very wonderful people.

the diary of a furball

Learning

Normal

Up there for thinking down there for dancing

Shed time

Merry Christmas

Traditions

Christmas Show time

Other peoples stories

Am I so transparent?

Just a little too much. (Dawn, put the kettle on)

The start of normal

Done it

Fireworks and friends

How does she do it?

Physio-terrorists

Heavenly

All quiet on the 'Weston' front!

Think, just think

I'm home.

It's been f*cking hardwork

Hearts

Ick

Hotel Hallamshire

Being alive is BRILLIANT

....... to down and then back up

Down to back up.........

Daddy, daddy, daddy

A great day

Aber Station

The missing present

Harvesting and mixed results

In and out and back in then back out

An Angel, an Owl and another blog

Tuesday turn off my head and hold my heart

Sorry

The Bounce

Hair today gone tomorrow (well today actually)

Bounce for charity

Pride

Summats happening

Naivety got me through last time.

Put the kettle on it's a long one.

So we start again.

testing testing 123

In search of me.

Less negativity......

The one with the head!

Knackered but smiling

Phew

Testing times

Well I'm back.......

Occy health say yes

One year on

Ignorance is bliss

Scared of being sh*t

From one furball to another.....

A fuller picture.

I'm in remission!

15 Years

Testing testing 1-2-3

Ch-ch-changes

Me, myself and I

Good advice

Put up and shut up.

O! So wots occuring?

Soup for the soul

Merry Christmas

He's BEHIND YOU

The umbilical cord

Nearly the end (treatment not me!)

Radiotherapy

A semi-pants weekend (not big sweaty pants just pants that don't feel right)

A fab weekend

Goose fat and my first tattoo!

The man from radiotherapy, he say YES

A great nights sleep

What a crock o' sh*t

I've trimmed my beard!

james brown