I've trimmed my beard!

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

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..........

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

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

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......

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.

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.