15 Years

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

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

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

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

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.

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?

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