When I was at primary school to get to the shop in the morning we use to cut through the pub car park. I always remember we use to press the top of Whitbread Bitter kegs and get our fingers covered in bitter. We must of stank of beer when we went to School. I was easily led :)
The last 2 days have reminded me of the fizz and froth the beer use to through up our arms, no real ale then. My body has been forcing this white pasty froth into my mouth, and swallowing eases it for a short while before, then reappears ripping my throat open with bile and scar tissue in a sickness I would not wish on anyone.
This weekend I can honestly say has been the worse in my life, most of it in bed, all of it in pain, the only joy seeing my two beautiful children who without them I would of given up this fight weeks ago.
There is nothing witty, sexy, funny, obtuse, eccentric I can think of tonight, apart from I will talking to those close to me about tube feeding, my body is week without food, a throat which is closing and sore and ripped apart, will not last 2 weeks without serious damage and the short term loss of having a nasal tube will have long term gains.
Food and fluid will then be taken care of alllowing me to use all of my energy to fight the weeks ahead.
The ferryman x
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
Day 70 - 13 days to go
Its late on Friday night and three weeks ago I started the worst night of my life. I have taken to having late afternoon sleeps waking mid evening. Friday was my eating day, I think at the moment we are up to one Weetabix, One Doughnut, One piece of chocolate and three spoonfuls of Frosties. Now that is 100% improvement on yesterday so tomorrow may get onto 2 Weetabix.
There are many things I detest about this treatment but the one I really dislike the most is opening the fridge or a cupboard and wretching. The smell of foods become over powering and although you feel like eating food, you know the minute it is cooked or opened you cannot eat it. You have no taste, or the metallic within your mouth takes over. Tonight was hard, I got up wanted something to eat but the mental thought of 3 weeks ago made me scared, even walking into the kitchen made me shake. My body trembled and I could feel my heartbeat rise, I opened a cupboard door and had to slam it shut and sit down. It is clear I need my cycling face masks I wear in London, I have one some where but wearing one in Starcross may be construed as some act of terrorism or S&M! My normal outlets like lucozades are out at the moment due to the acidic nature of most of the drinks which sting my throat.
It is all small steps at the moment, but I am not quite sure what I am going to do with my £15 off Tescos home shopping voucher before August 7th! Perhaps I could stockpile goodies until the 1st week in September, but then I suspect I would be paranoid about eating unhealthy and throw it all away.
I had a doctors appointment today, one to obtain more painkillers the other reason to sort out some paperwork. I always get emotional when seeing my Doctor, I think its a manthing, I know him personally and we have had many chats about running children and life. Simon Rains has the ability to show empathy but make sensible judgements. I wandered off again on a Friday night to the village Chemist and managed to lose my perscription enroute, re-tracing the route I found it in the post office as I had dropped it on the 200 metres journey and headed back to the pharmacy. I felt like crying, I felt worthless and useless and pretty much wanting to give up life again. These things may seem irrational to those readers who have not lived through cancer or experienced it little things get you down. Keeping your fragile existance going on a day to day basis, is it very difficult.
I need to be rational about myself, I have made huge strides over the last 5 months and through three major operations, 4 weeks of "oxymoron" treatments dropping a perscription can be so hard. When feeling down tonight I had an email from a very good friend of mine who has unfortunatley the experience of cancer:
Now here the for god sake bit:- you know youve been told you have cancer, you have a major operation, radio therapy, chemotherapy its still going on now, anything in your body good or bad has completely been killed, you spend alot of time feeling sick being sick, in pain morning noon and nite, you cant even look after your kids for long because you tired, cause you cant eat for the energy, you cant really go out because you dont have the energy and you are at risk of other peoples germs. of course you feel bloody useless, and downright shit on. probably even asking what on earth have you done wrong to warrant such a punishment. so no wonder your feeling down, thats what you feeling, depressed, and of course you will. I would recommend a little bit of cannibas, because you feel your letting everyone down. But the truth is your not, and soon your be bouncing back and we wont be able to keep up with you.
Roll on 13 days of "treatment" to go!
There are many things I detest about this treatment but the one I really dislike the most is opening the fridge or a cupboard and wretching. The smell of foods become over powering and although you feel like eating food, you know the minute it is cooked or opened you cannot eat it. You have no taste, or the metallic within your mouth takes over. Tonight was hard, I got up wanted something to eat but the mental thought of 3 weeks ago made me scared, even walking into the kitchen made me shake. My body trembled and I could feel my heartbeat rise, I opened a cupboard door and had to slam it shut and sit down. It is clear I need my cycling face masks I wear in London, I have one some where but wearing one in Starcross may be construed as some act of terrorism or S&M! My normal outlets like lucozades are out at the moment due to the acidic nature of most of the drinks which sting my throat.
It is all small steps at the moment, but I am not quite sure what I am going to do with my £15 off Tescos home shopping voucher before August 7th! Perhaps I could stockpile goodies until the 1st week in September, but then I suspect I would be paranoid about eating unhealthy and throw it all away.
I had a doctors appointment today, one to obtain more painkillers the other reason to sort out some paperwork. I always get emotional when seeing my Doctor, I think its a manthing, I know him personally and we have had many chats about running children and life. Simon Rains has the ability to show empathy but make sensible judgements. I wandered off again on a Friday night to the village Chemist and managed to lose my perscription enroute, re-tracing the route I found it in the post office as I had dropped it on the 200 metres journey and headed back to the pharmacy. I felt like crying, I felt worthless and useless and pretty much wanting to give up life again. These things may seem irrational to those readers who have not lived through cancer or experienced it little things get you down. Keeping your fragile existance going on a day to day basis, is it very difficult.
I need to be rational about myself, I have made huge strides over the last 5 months and through three major operations, 4 weeks of "oxymoron" treatments dropping a perscription can be so hard. When feeling down tonight I had an email from a very good friend of mine who has unfortunatley the experience of cancer:
Now here the for god sake bit:- you know youve been told you have cancer, you have a major operation, radio therapy, chemotherapy its still going on now, anything in your body good or bad has completely been killed, you spend alot of time feeling sick being sick, in pain morning noon and nite, you cant even look after your kids for long because you tired, cause you cant eat for the energy, you cant really go out because you dont have the energy and you are at risk of other peoples germs. of course you feel bloody useless, and downright shit on. probably even asking what on earth have you done wrong to warrant such a punishment. so no wonder your feeling down, thats what you feeling, depressed, and of course you will. I would recommend a little bit of cannibas, because you feel your letting everyone down. But the truth is your not, and soon your be bouncing back and we wont be able to keep up with you.
Roll on 13 days of "treatment" to go!
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Day 69 - Full of good advice
Ok I do not really want to die, but the treatment makes you feel that you want to die. I have been reading Bob Champion book the Grand National winning jockey and in his book he was convinced they were trying to kill him with chemotherapy. I am sure chemotherapy and radiotherapy are oxymorons, where is the therapy?
I awoke yesterday I was so weak I could hardly, I had two great pieces of advise the day before one from Jan take your painkillers not when you need them but when you are told to take them and from Miss Powderham 2001(still retired unless she can win), Orpah telling me to use everyone on your help list over the next few days and boy I need all the help I can get. It was clear that my muscle tone has gone, I look like an old man, I know that will come back once I start exercising, I have lost over 2 stones, I had not eaten in three days and felt very sick. The hearing is my left ear is going, a temporary side effect I was warned about, lets hope its temporary. There was a point on Wednesday when I did question going through the last stage of the chemotherapy but as it just one more session to go I will be brave dig in and get it completed and sit back and smile its all over.
I went to the hospital yesterday for my RT and nearly collasped with low blood sugar, I was sat in the RT section and my eyes welled up with fuzz and bits of furry flying around inside my eyelids. It was clear that I had low blood sugar, I nearly collasped, I was in need of sugar help came in the way of the WRVS coffee bar, hot water and 6 sugars in each cup of hot water. This made me feel better but gave me a warning lucozade and dextrose. I had made the decision not to eat until Friday, this was as a result of the last chemo session. I was in danger of not getting away with it and fairly scary. I got very stroppy with the RT who did not seem to understand the process of chemo and insisting I saw the dietician, she was the last person I needed to see it was a straight forward low blood sugar level, it takes me three days to start eating after chemo, so get real I said to them. In fact I think I told them I was happy doing what I am doing, but did not say "after all its you who is trying to kill me" It seemed they did not understand me. Understand that I had developed a coping strategy to deal with this and with just 14 days of RT rays left I was not prepared to change the strategy just yet.
I saw Dr Sherriff who is a lovely caring Doctor, early 30s but amazing manner. We had a long discussion, estasblished my mouth was full of thrush, my weight was fine, lowest I have been since the mid 90s as all my muscle tone has gone, and agreed as long as I was drinking during and chemo he understood the reason why I could not eat. I left in better health than I arrived!
I forgot to tell you about more good advice, that included a nurse during chemo saying "you must get out more" of course love, the first three days after chemo you feel like death, the weekend you are recovering from radiotherapy, then the after chemo your white blood cells are at their lowest and you are advised to avoid everyone and anyone just in case you catch the "black death" at least it sounds quicker that murder by chemo. I did think about returning one of my one liners but as she was injecting something nasty into me, thought twice about being witty.
My sister had the best advice of yesterday champers! Her friend advised that her husband swigged champers after chemo to stop being sick, sounds good to me so get some small bottles of course to give me the taste back :) I love champers!
Things are looking up tonight and life feels better. I do feel feeble but I am not giving up on this, not far to go, not long to go before I get my life back.
As Bob Champion said "The worst should be over. I'm counting the days to the end of the treatment. They've done their best to kill me but they won't succeed now. I almost there"
Keep attacking !
I awoke yesterday I was so weak I could hardly, I had two great pieces of advise the day before one from Jan take your painkillers not when you need them but when you are told to take them and from Miss Powderham 2001(still retired unless she can win), Orpah telling me to use everyone on your help list over the next few days and boy I need all the help I can get. It was clear that my muscle tone has gone, I look like an old man, I know that will come back once I start exercising, I have lost over 2 stones, I had not eaten in three days and felt very sick. The hearing is my left ear is going, a temporary side effect I was warned about, lets hope its temporary. There was a point on Wednesday when I did question going through the last stage of the chemotherapy but as it just one more session to go I will be brave dig in and get it completed and sit back and smile its all over.
I went to the hospital yesterday for my RT and nearly collasped with low blood sugar, I was sat in the RT section and my eyes welled up with fuzz and bits of furry flying around inside my eyelids. It was clear that I had low blood sugar, I nearly collasped, I was in need of sugar help came in the way of the WRVS coffee bar, hot water and 6 sugars in each cup of hot water. This made me feel better but gave me a warning lucozade and dextrose. I had made the decision not to eat until Friday, this was as a result of the last chemo session. I was in danger of not getting away with it and fairly scary. I got very stroppy with the RT who did not seem to understand the process of chemo and insisting I saw the dietician, she was the last person I needed to see it was a straight forward low blood sugar level, it takes me three days to start eating after chemo, so get real I said to them. In fact I think I told them I was happy doing what I am doing, but did not say "after all its you who is trying to kill me" It seemed they did not understand me. Understand that I had developed a coping strategy to deal with this and with just 14 days of RT rays left I was not prepared to change the strategy just yet.
I saw Dr Sherriff who is a lovely caring Doctor, early 30s but amazing manner. We had a long discussion, estasblished my mouth was full of thrush, my weight was fine, lowest I have been since the mid 90s as all my muscle tone has gone, and agreed as long as I was drinking during and chemo he understood the reason why I could not eat. I left in better health than I arrived!
I forgot to tell you about more good advice, that included a nurse during chemo saying "you must get out more" of course love, the first three days after chemo you feel like death, the weekend you are recovering from radiotherapy, then the after chemo your white blood cells are at their lowest and you are advised to avoid everyone and anyone just in case you catch the "black death" at least it sounds quicker that murder by chemo. I did think about returning one of my one liners but as she was injecting something nasty into me, thought twice about being witty.
My sister had the best advice of yesterday champers! Her friend advised that her husband swigged champers after chemo to stop being sick, sounds good to me so get some small bottles of course to give me the taste back :) I love champers!
Things are looking up tonight and life feels better. I do feel feeble but I am not giving up on this, not far to go, not long to go before I get my life back.
As Bob Champion said "The worst should be over. I'm counting the days to the end of the treatment. They've done their best to kill me but they won't succeed now. I almost there"
Keep attacking !
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Day 68 - I want to die
I know that is a horrid title but it is the way I feel.
I woke up about 8am in pain in my mouth and throat. I have to use salty water mouth washes now becuase the oral ons I have been using burn my mouth and throat just like someone has put a flame to the roof of my mouth. When I mouth washed this morning a huge flap of the top of my mouth came off.
My mouth was very dry as I could not breath through my nose and my mouth, however sore had become the only source of air. I had a glimpse of the sickenss this morning but got all the painkillers I could inside me and went back to bed.
I do not care what anyone says but there is no way you can eat after cisplatin, teh smell of the open fridge made me wretch, and of course wretching with your thraot and mouth as it is can be described as hell.
I stayed in bed until Ron came to take me to RT, I got up at 1pm and had a strawberry build up drink which I knew would reappear.
It did the minute Ron dropped me off I opened the front door smelt the kitchen and threw up all over the front drive, in front of my neighbour and the street. I just could not get in the front door without being ill.
Well I knew it would be like this but at least that the 1st session afew more to come and yes milk drinks are definately out. Why is it your feel better after being sick? However, I know its short lived and I await the next session with dread.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Day 67 - Hospital ramblings and home
Its 0115 and still no drugs, Captain Mitchell tells me that the “Chemo” is not in the chiller but still in the “make up” room so kick off is delayed until 0200 hours. Midnight and 0200 is much the same unless you’re a ghost or have a plane to catch and after all as UK licensing laws have changed so that we can get a bloody drink when we want to will ghosts have to change their hours of haunting?
I must be a 6th former as I have been given permission to administer my own drugs which include a cocktail of painkillers and two different laxatives which to be honest is more information than you need but they seem to be all wind and no action! You have of course to sign a form to say you take full responsibility to administer your own drugs, but after all it is the same ones as I have been taking at home for weeks and then ones that I have been trying to find the most effective pain relief.
At 0200 am, Admiral Mitchell arrived spot on, he exact quote “could not be late with you on the ward” He tried to funny quoting that he had put the liquids in the fridge and it would hurt as ice cold liquid hits my body I said I bring it on as I hugged my sheep. The sheep the padded warming furry creature had been shaved and it her summer coat.
I had the last laughed Major Mitchell had forget to turn the sheep on so for the first hour I sat their thinking this bags cold!
The rest of the day went off without incident, apart from I had a Delia moment when the 1st bag of chemo finished at 1200 midday and at 1235 despite my GIMP beeping nobody came to change the bag. I reminded the staff that “I not a celebrity, but more reason to get me out of here”
Chemo finished at 2.30pm and a row have ensued between the ward and the radiotherapy (RT) department, which meant that the gap hour between chemo finishing and RT should be 4 hours. I understand the RT section has complained over the time it has taken to finish the chemo! I think it is more to do with going home early than the burning desire to get me under the microwaves!
At least the is horse racing on the telly. I thinking if I am honest I only enjoy Horse racing for the betting and instant cash and the generous amounts of beer and champagne and beer you can drink. Its Glorious Goodwood, 5 days of watching identical snorting horsy beasts mincing around a paddock, each with a tiny emaciated Irishman on its back, and then melee hurtling along in a cloud of clods while a very posh commentator pretends he can tell you which one you have staked your wife on with a man standing on a box wearing a dodgy car coat with a brummie accent.
Of course at Good there will be ladies day, where call centre girls from Southampton dress in flimsy dresses as the British weather unleashes a force 8 gale on the Sussex Downs and upsets the outside drinking games. One thing they can see is hours of more identical snorting beasts mincing, whilst the prance around the paddock wearing a fruit and veg stall on their head, whilst being followed by a pompous and posh commentator accompanied by a fashion expert who looks like he should be working on the fruit and veg stall!
The trouble is that horses weigh a few tonnes, have huge heads, asses as big as their owners with nasty big teeth and big hoofs, actually like their owners that get bigger when standing up and attempting to decapitate the fruit and veg stall off the “call centre” heads and throwing the tiny Irishman off like Tom Thumb. Cut to the trainer who tells Claire “A bit of big lass who happens to live with a woman” that he’s a “real baby and friendly horse at home” what does he mean he curls up with the sofa with the family or if he ever breaks a leg he will be easier to shoot than innocent man wearing a large overcoat without a tube ticket.
As the paramedics rush into the paddock to attend to the decapitated lass and the Irishman remounts and bags his fee. Now with respect, huge ass and legs, 3 tonnes in weight, awesome head with big nashers, and the chance to kill does not sound like the place to be for me, but does sound like woman I went out in my teenage years. The horse racing got worse, the odds on favourite got beaten in the big and the trainer should of said “Look all your boys who have just spent this weeks housekeeping on my horse, he was crap the jockey never understood a thing I said and should be auditioning for the Christmas Diddyman movie” Alas they don’t listen to these excuses.
• The horse does like a right-handed track! The track was 5 furlong flat course with no bends?
• He does not start well out the gates! He has run 21 times before why has it taken it until now to realise?
• He struggles on grass! Why bloody enter it, I give up!
I have managed to negotiate an early exit tonight from the hospital as the treatment has been speeded up so keep attacking I am off to pack my bag!
I got at home at 1100 and must admit my mouth and throat are awfuul, they feel cut up, I have lost the skin in my mouth and I can feel awful.
This is the worst I have ever felt in my life. I am off to bed now but the minute I walked in the door I picked up a cold, literally the minute
This does not help when you mouth is wrecked, your tounge is scarred and painful and everytime you open the fridge you want to wretch, your whole body gets wracked with pain.
Its going to be very hard this week please bear with me.
Nigel
x
I must be a 6th former as I have been given permission to administer my own drugs which include a cocktail of painkillers and two different laxatives which to be honest is more information than you need but they seem to be all wind and no action! You have of course to sign a form to say you take full responsibility to administer your own drugs, but after all it is the same ones as I have been taking at home for weeks and then ones that I have been trying to find the most effective pain relief.
At 0200 am, Admiral Mitchell arrived spot on, he exact quote “could not be late with you on the ward” He tried to funny quoting that he had put the liquids in the fridge and it would hurt as ice cold liquid hits my body I said I bring it on as I hugged my sheep. The sheep the padded warming furry creature had been shaved and it her summer coat.
I had the last laughed Major Mitchell had forget to turn the sheep on so for the first hour I sat their thinking this bags cold!
The rest of the day went off without incident, apart from I had a Delia moment when the 1st bag of chemo finished at 1200 midday and at 1235 despite my GIMP beeping nobody came to change the bag. I reminded the staff that “I not a celebrity, but more reason to get me out of here”
Chemo finished at 2.30pm and a row have ensued between the ward and the radiotherapy (RT) department, which meant that the gap hour between chemo finishing and RT should be 4 hours. I understand the RT section has complained over the time it has taken to finish the chemo! I think it is more to do with going home early than the burning desire to get me under the microwaves!
At least the is horse racing on the telly. I thinking if I am honest I only enjoy Horse racing for the betting and instant cash and the generous amounts of beer and champagne and beer you can drink. Its Glorious Goodwood, 5 days of watching identical snorting horsy beasts mincing around a paddock, each with a tiny emaciated Irishman on its back, and then melee hurtling along in a cloud of clods while a very posh commentator pretends he can tell you which one you have staked your wife on with a man standing on a box wearing a dodgy car coat with a brummie accent.
Of course at Good there will be ladies day, where call centre girls from Southampton dress in flimsy dresses as the British weather unleashes a force 8 gale on the Sussex Downs and upsets the outside drinking games. One thing they can see is hours of more identical snorting beasts mincing, whilst the prance around the paddock wearing a fruit and veg stall on their head, whilst being followed by a pompous and posh commentator accompanied by a fashion expert who looks like he should be working on the fruit and veg stall!
The trouble is that horses weigh a few tonnes, have huge heads, asses as big as their owners with nasty big teeth and big hoofs, actually like their owners that get bigger when standing up and attempting to decapitate the fruit and veg stall off the “call centre” heads and throwing the tiny Irishman off like Tom Thumb. Cut to the trainer who tells Claire “A bit of big lass who happens to live with a woman” that he’s a “real baby and friendly horse at home” what does he mean he curls up with the sofa with the family or if he ever breaks a leg he will be easier to shoot than innocent man wearing a large overcoat without a tube ticket.
As the paramedics rush into the paddock to attend to the decapitated lass and the Irishman remounts and bags his fee. Now with respect, huge ass and legs, 3 tonnes in weight, awesome head with big nashers, and the chance to kill does not sound like the place to be for me, but does sound like woman I went out in my teenage years. The horse racing got worse, the odds on favourite got beaten in the big and the trainer should of said “Look all your boys who have just spent this weeks housekeeping on my horse, he was crap the jockey never understood a thing I said and should be auditioning for the Christmas Diddyman movie” Alas they don’t listen to these excuses.
• The horse does like a right-handed track! The track was 5 furlong flat course with no bends?
• He does not start well out the gates! He has run 21 times before why has it taken it until now to realise?
• He struggles on grass! Why bloody enter it, I give up!
I have managed to negotiate an early exit tonight from the hospital as the treatment has been speeded up so keep attacking I am off to pack my bag!
I got at home at 1100 and must admit my mouth and throat are awfuul, they feel cut up, I have lost the skin in my mouth and I can feel awful.
This is the worst I have ever felt in my life. I am off to bed now but the minute I walked in the door I picked up a cold, literally the minute
This does not help when you mouth is wrecked, your tounge is scarred and painful and everytime you open the fridge you want to wretch, your whole body gets wracked with pain.
Its going to be very hard this week please bear with me.
Nigel
x
Day 67 - More hospital chemo ramblings
Its 0115 and still no drugs, Captain Mitchell tells me that the “Chemo” is not in the chiller but still in the “make up” room so kick off is delayed until 0200 hours. Midnight and 0200 is much the same unless you’re a ghost or have a plane to catch and after all as UK licensing laws have changed so that we can get a bloody drink when we want to will ghosts have to change their hours of haunting?
I must be a 6th former as I have been given permission to administer my own drugs which include a cocktail of painkillers and two different laxatives which to be honest is more information than you need but they seem to be all wind and no action! You have of course to sign a form to say you take full responsibility to administer your own drugs, but after all it is the same ones as I have been taking at home for weeks and then ones that I have been trying to find the most effective pain relief.
At 0200 am, Admiral Mitchell arrived spot on, he exact quote “could not be late with you on the ward” He tried to funny quoting that he had put the liquids in the fridge and it would hurt as ice cold liquid hits my body I said I bring it on as I hugged my sheep. The sheep the padded warming furry creature had been shaved and it her summer coat.
I had the last laughed Major Mitchell had forget to turn the sheep on so for the first hour I sat their thinking this bags cold!
The rest of the day went off without incident, apart from I had a Delia moment when the 1st bag of chemo finished at 1200 midday and at 1235 despite my GIMP beeping nobody came to change the bag. I reminded the staff that “I not a celebrity, but more reason to get me out of here”
Chemo finished at 2.30pm and a row have ensued between the ward and the radiotherapy (RT) department, which meant that the gap hour between chemo finishing and RT should be 4 hours. I understand the RT section has complained over the time it has taken to finish the chemo! I think it is more to do with going home early than the burning desire to get me under the microwaves!
At least the is horse racing on the telly. I thinking if I am honest I only enjoy Horse racing for the betting and instant cash and the generous amounts of beer and champagne and beer you can drink. Its Glorious Goodwood, 5 days of watching identical snorting horsy beasts mincing around a paddock, each with a tiny emaciated Irishman on its back, and then melee hurtling along in a cloud of clods while a very posh commentator pretends he can tell you which one you have staked your wife on with a man standing on a box wearing a dodgy car coat with a brummie accent.
Of course at Good there will be ladies day, where call centre girls from Southampton dress in flimsy dresses as the British weather unleashes a force 8 gale on the Sussex Downs and upsets the outside drinking games. One thing they can see is hours of more identical snorting beasts mincing, whilst the prance around the paddock wearing a fruit and veg stall on their head, whilst being followed by a pompous and posh commentator accompanied by a fashion expert who looks like he should be working on the fruit and veg stall!
The trouble is that horses weigh a few tonnes, have huge heads, asses as big as their owners with nasty big teeth and big hoofs, actually like their owners that get bigger when standing up and attempting to decapitate the fruit and veg stall off the “call centre” heads and throwing the tiny Irishman off like Tom Thumb. Cut to the trainer who tells Claire “A bit of big lass who happens to live with a woman” that he’s a “real baby and friendly horse at home” what does he mean he curls up with the sofa with the family or if he ever breaks a leg he will be easier to shoot than innocent man wearing a large overcoat without a tube ticket.
As the paramedics rush into the paddock to attend to the decapitated lass and the Irishman remounts and bags his fee. Now with respect, huge ass and legs, 3 tonnes in weight, awesome head with big nashers, and the chance to kill does not sound like the place to be for me, but does sound like woman I went out in my teenage years. The horse racing got worse, the odds on favourite got beaten in the big and the trainer should of said “Look all your boys who have just spent this weeks housekeeping on my horse, he was crap the jockey never understood a thing I said and should be auditioning for the Christmas Diddyman movie” Alas they don’t listen to these excuses.
• The horse does like a right-handed track! The track was 5 furlong flat course with no beds
• He does not start well out the gates! He has run 21 times before why has it taken it until now to realise?
• He struggles on grass! Why bloody enter it, I give up!
I have managed to negotiate an early exit tonight from the hospital as the treatment has been speeded up so keep attacking I am off to pack my bag!
I must be a 6th former as I have been given permission to administer my own drugs which include a cocktail of painkillers and two different laxatives which to be honest is more information than you need but they seem to be all wind and no action! You have of course to sign a form to say you take full responsibility to administer your own drugs, but after all it is the same ones as I have been taking at home for weeks and then ones that I have been trying to find the most effective pain relief.
At 0200 am, Admiral Mitchell arrived spot on, he exact quote “could not be late with you on the ward” He tried to funny quoting that he had put the liquids in the fridge and it would hurt as ice cold liquid hits my body I said I bring it on as I hugged my sheep. The sheep the padded warming furry creature had been shaved and it her summer coat.
I had the last laughed Major Mitchell had forget to turn the sheep on so for the first hour I sat their thinking this bags cold!
The rest of the day went off without incident, apart from I had a Delia moment when the 1st bag of chemo finished at 1200 midday and at 1235 despite my GIMP beeping nobody came to change the bag. I reminded the staff that “I not a celebrity, but more reason to get me out of here”
Chemo finished at 2.30pm and a row have ensued between the ward and the radiotherapy (RT) department, which meant that the gap hour between chemo finishing and RT should be 4 hours. I understand the RT section has complained over the time it has taken to finish the chemo! I think it is more to do with going home early than the burning desire to get me under the microwaves!
At least the is horse racing on the telly. I thinking if I am honest I only enjoy Horse racing for the betting and instant cash and the generous amounts of beer and champagne and beer you can drink. Its Glorious Goodwood, 5 days of watching identical snorting horsy beasts mincing around a paddock, each with a tiny emaciated Irishman on its back, and then melee hurtling along in a cloud of clods while a very posh commentator pretends he can tell you which one you have staked your wife on with a man standing on a box wearing a dodgy car coat with a brummie accent.
Of course at Good there will be ladies day, where call centre girls from Southampton dress in flimsy dresses as the British weather unleashes a force 8 gale on the Sussex Downs and upsets the outside drinking games. One thing they can see is hours of more identical snorting beasts mincing, whilst the prance around the paddock wearing a fruit and veg stall on their head, whilst being followed by a pompous and posh commentator accompanied by a fashion expert who looks like he should be working on the fruit and veg stall!
The trouble is that horses weigh a few tonnes, have huge heads, asses as big as their owners with nasty big teeth and big hoofs, actually like their owners that get bigger when standing up and attempting to decapitate the fruit and veg stall off the “call centre” heads and throwing the tiny Irishman off like Tom Thumb. Cut to the trainer who tells Claire “A bit of big lass who happens to live with a woman” that he’s a “real baby and friendly horse at home” what does he mean he curls up with the sofa with the family or if he ever breaks a leg he will be easier to shoot than innocent man wearing a large overcoat without a tube ticket.
As the paramedics rush into the paddock to attend to the decapitated lass and the Irishman remounts and bags his fee. Now with respect, huge ass and legs, 3 tonnes in weight, awesome head with big nashers, and the chance to kill does not sound like the place to be for me, but does sound like woman I went out in my teenage years. The horse racing got worse, the odds on favourite got beaten in the big and the trainer should of said “Look all your boys who have just spent this weeks housekeeping on my horse, he was crap the jockey never understood a thing I said and should be auditioning for the Christmas Diddyman movie” Alas they don’t listen to these excuses.
• The horse does like a right-handed track! The track was 5 furlong flat course with no beds
• He does not start well out the gates! He has run 21 times before why has it taken it until now to realise?
• He struggles on grass! Why bloody enter it, I give up!
I have managed to negotiate an early exit tonight from the hospital as the treatment has been speeded up so keep attacking I am off to pack my bag!
Monday, July 25, 2005
Day 66 - More rubbish from my hospital bed
I think I am competitive, well I get competitive brushing my teeth, buying a tube ticket, getting the last racing post, or getting through the first stage of 15 to 1 and beating a lot of retired mechanical engineers from Basingstoke. Did I tell my Dad was on 15 to 1 I choose his shirt and tie but it was considered too gaudy so they made him change? No my dad was a bright bloke, and he sure was completive, medals for everything football, cricket, snake charming and wrestling with alligators in the River Exe, alas his competitive streak came to an end in the 1st round of 15 to 1 when he went out, when he failed asked two dreadful questions about Greek methodology. Now I have the view if its myth why ask? cause it’s all made up in the first place, a bit like the bible.
I felt so sorry for him I wanted to hug him, perhaps that’s my calling avenge my fathers defeat in 15 to 1 and celebrate with fireworks and on one of those little stages they build when you win the FA Cup singing “Olay, Olay, Olay”
Talking of which my DVD player on the laptop did not work here is hospital, so I still have 9 hours of Lord of the Rings to watch, there is a dayroom here with a DVD player, but there is something competitive about having a laptop and not allowing other people watch your classic DVD, ok it maybe childish but it’s the only sport I get these days. Talking of DVDs have you noticed that something’s have not changed in the DVD library?
I was mooching, what a word, my local Londis and looking at the DVDs for rental, thinking I could be even more smug by not only having the box collection of the Lord of the Rings to watch but something equally as classy like “James and the Giant Peach or Cat in the Hat” However, my observation was that virtually every cert 15 plus DVD cover featured an impossibly beautiful and decorated girl and a slick looking bloke with floppy hair. Now with respect where are the ugly videos? Under the counter I suspect I was tempted to ask for the videos with the ugly pictures but had already caused suspicion by giggling ever louder every time I saw a good looking babe and bloke with floppy hair on a DVD cover, and after asking for “ugly videos” I am sure would of got me on the front page of the Parish Magazine which I am sure doubles as a recruiting sergeant for the WI and knitting circle or a heap of 1970s porn videos with overweight women and blokes with very dodgy moustaches, only worn by friends of Merv Hughes and men in tight white t shirts and leather trousers mincing up and down Brighton sea front on a Sunday afternoon.
I think my fascination of DVDs been watching too much Bollywood in my time at home, the cheeky kisses behind trees, satin and the unforgettable music, available at £4.99 per month from B4U.com! Talking of which you I mentioned that Carol Voderman was offering to clear all your debts with a competive rate of interest, my son reminded on Sunday that in fact I had it wrong as Carol had said “You can pay all your debts off at just £100 per month” He was spot on, he has been watching the Ocean Finance Adverts as well. I think he is planning his next housing renovation in France as we speak.
I forgot to tell you that during our family visit to Exeter Airport yesterday my son remarked that the shop did not sell anything of interest to children. Now as my son is as switched on as his dad I realised this could be a ploy to obtain presents by deception, however he was right. The only option was to buy William 6 and Ellen 4 a John Grisham novel or a set of expensive set of hand luggage. Now it begged the questions what kind of fool buys luggage at an airport, well I convinced myself they must be as disorganised as me and turn up for their flight with Tesco carriers bags, pants sticking out of every available pocket! Then by chance saying hooray an expensive luggage shop ideal just what I need!
I supposed I am quite a seasoned flyer having the experience of a plane tilting 45 degrees in strong winds on approach to Birmingham Airport to wrestling with an elderly Arab lady at Dubai airport. The wrestling was not part of the in flight entertainment but more an example of no one now listens to announcements on any form of transport system we have become conditioned it. Travel “Worst” Great Western Railways and we all switched off to the Conductor telling us that the “Super have a nice day ticket” is not valid and unless you get off the train your house will be repossessed and your children sent to the workhouse. “Please keep all your belongings with you” No one listens, and lets face it no really wants to watch the stewardess tell us how to attach our lifejacket when we are hurtling at 600 mph into the Atlantic Ocean 2000 miles from nearest landmass. I have found the only people watching are either intoxicated by vast quantities of duty free or testosterone on a rugby club tour that fancy their chances of a quick grope. Even the bloody captain has to apologise these days for the safety announcement and begs us to listen!
Now an example of this disrespect for announcements and safety rules was witnessed by myself. I was flying back to London from Joberg, to us frequent flyers or “mugging city” to most of the World via Dubai. We were flying Emirates airlines, which was most impressive I would think so when you consider the cash they can flash. We landed at Dubai and next to me a small Arab lady was sat. As we taxied to the hard standing the mad scramble to get to the overhead lockers commenced. You know what I am saying here it’s like Pamplona all over again, stewardesses screaming on the microphone to sit down in 48 different languages and turning the stay seated lights on and off. I had worked out the only language they had failed to give the warning too was dialect that the old lady sat next to me spoke. This sprightly lady was standing on the seat and me to rescue her full carrier bag full of duty free Jonnie Walker. She had worked out the only way she could get the angle she wanted to lever her bulging bag out of the overhead locker was to standing on the arm rest my shoulder and the hippy looking lad sat next to her. The trouble is her bony elbow was stuck in my ear, causing me to cry out in pain as all you could see were the little ladies legs sticking out of the locker. There was a temptation to flip her into the locker and close the door, but the thought of her trapped in a locker with all that duty free was too much even for me to bear.
I was too shocked to complain, in fact speechless, as her foot had caught my chin as she descended from the locker. But resolved to trip her up later and push her on the carousel later as she waited for her bags. She was however very nippy and like a mole keeping low and digging her way down to the front of the plane. I lost sight of her, but could tell where she was but the passengers who were suddenly lurching out of the way and the crashing down of hand luggage as they suffered injuries caused by this diminutive whirlwind. Just as the commotion died down and the old lady had got to front of the plane, the back doors opened right next to where the old lady was sitting and me and the hippy made our exit before the typhoon started her journey back up the plane.
Anyway back to films.
Now I have been known in my time to frequent cinemas of many different types, but with respect Bollywood films are hard to follow at the best of times. Well the first reasons is obvious unlike your local Odeon you have to watch them in “cast” what I mean by that is forget the popcorn and ice cream get stuck into the samosas and chutneys, alas all of this has an adverse effect on your ability to sit through a whole Bollywood film without need the assistance of Pile cream. The second is obvious I do not speak Hindi! Now in Brixton the local cinema shows some quite alternative films and last summer the choice was Motorcycle Diaries or some crap Italian Movie, thinking I was being trendy I watched the Italian movie. When we came out of the movie a local South London trendy type looking like Noel Gallagher said to me “You understand that mate? it was all Greek to me” Without thinking, because as we now know wearing an overcoat in summer is risky let alone being cheeky to a local bohemian type, in Brixton, I retorted “Well mate you wouldn’t it was an Italian Film” He replied understand this “F*”K Off “ I understood this verbal interaction!
So understanding Hindu is pretty fundamental to understanding Bollywood.
I have the ability to talk to me without prompting. In fact I am in more demand to talk to by strangers than Liz Hurley is by cameramen. I am always the bloke that gets the drunk sit next to you on the tube. You see them coming down the stairs, Stella in hand, swaying onto the tube train and under your breath you say not me please not me, but they do make a beeline for me and start a conversation with me which the only words you understand are the Fs, Cs and Ws.
Of course then things get lost in translation a Bollywood movie called “Masala” in this country conjours up the thoughts of a “bright creamy tomato sauce” rather than a film that has a wild mixture or romance, a cheeky Indian Arthur Askey type chappy, adventure and tragedy, with a bit of knockabout comedy, pathos, emotion, musical numbers and not a waiter in sight.
Now talking of waiters in my local “Paradise Palace” whose title could double as massage parlour if it were not in Dawlish, why is it that you can walk into an empty restaurant and the “maitre de” screams at you “have you booked, have you booked” of course you have not and he searches through his non existent booking lists and eventually able to find you a table in his empty bistro which funny enough is always next to the murals of tigers being massacred!
Lets face why do we spend so much money on a food, which causes physical pain either on the way or on the way out like we do with an Indian? Would you eat broken glass?
Now Bollywood movies are far too commercial. They are sponsored by various Indian companies who are doing rather well. The first time I really noticed sponsorship was after an interview with the Great Auzzie fast bowler “Merv Moustache Hughes for those who do not know Merv he is a fast talking, big Auzzie who yes looks like he should be walking the poodle in Eastbourne, but I can assure you he eats chickens, beer cans and children whole. Merv had just threatened to kill the umpire or something similar with his bare hands, when on came the advert sponsored by “Norwich Union Insurance for all your insurance needs” Better tell the umpire mate Merv is after you.
I am truly rambling now its 2315 on my first night here in the Hospital. Kevin warned me that it would be noisy on the ward and I now know the reason opposite there is a geezer semi asleep mumbling loudly in his sleep like a 1970s German Porn Star. I will start getting concerned when he starts shouts “Duck me, Duck me” and “Das good, Das good”
I am listening to a compilation of tunes on my “Ibiza Summer 20 Chemo hits” I decided to record 20 hits to spend the summer swinging too as I hip hop through the valley of boredom, sickness, and irrationality. It’s a funky blend of old and new but all them you want to stand up and sing to and I must admit I have been foot tapping, but not in that embarrassing way Fatty Prescott did tapping and air singing “Things can only get fatter” after the 1997 election win.
I felt so sorry for him I wanted to hug him, perhaps that’s my calling avenge my fathers defeat in 15 to 1 and celebrate with fireworks and on one of those little stages they build when you win the FA Cup singing “Olay, Olay, Olay”
Talking of which my DVD player on the laptop did not work here is hospital, so I still have 9 hours of Lord of the Rings to watch, there is a dayroom here with a DVD player, but there is something competitive about having a laptop and not allowing other people watch your classic DVD, ok it maybe childish but it’s the only sport I get these days. Talking of DVDs have you noticed that something’s have not changed in the DVD library?
I was mooching, what a word, my local Londis and looking at the DVDs for rental, thinking I could be even more smug by not only having the box collection of the Lord of the Rings to watch but something equally as classy like “James and the Giant Peach or Cat in the Hat” However, my observation was that virtually every cert 15 plus DVD cover featured an impossibly beautiful and decorated girl and a slick looking bloke with floppy hair. Now with respect where are the ugly videos? Under the counter I suspect I was tempted to ask for the videos with the ugly pictures but had already caused suspicion by giggling ever louder every time I saw a good looking babe and bloke with floppy hair on a DVD cover, and after asking for “ugly videos” I am sure would of got me on the front page of the Parish Magazine which I am sure doubles as a recruiting sergeant for the WI and knitting circle or a heap of 1970s porn videos with overweight women and blokes with very dodgy moustaches, only worn by friends of Merv Hughes and men in tight white t shirts and leather trousers mincing up and down Brighton sea front on a Sunday afternoon.
I think my fascination of DVDs been watching too much Bollywood in my time at home, the cheeky kisses behind trees, satin and the unforgettable music, available at £4.99 per month from B4U.com! Talking of which you I mentioned that Carol Voderman was offering to clear all your debts with a competive rate of interest, my son reminded on Sunday that in fact I had it wrong as Carol had said “You can pay all your debts off at just £100 per month” He was spot on, he has been watching the Ocean Finance Adverts as well. I think he is planning his next housing renovation in France as we speak.
I forgot to tell you that during our family visit to Exeter Airport yesterday my son remarked that the shop did not sell anything of interest to children. Now as my son is as switched on as his dad I realised this could be a ploy to obtain presents by deception, however he was right. The only option was to buy William 6 and Ellen 4 a John Grisham novel or a set of expensive set of hand luggage. Now it begged the questions what kind of fool buys luggage at an airport, well I convinced myself they must be as disorganised as me and turn up for their flight with Tesco carriers bags, pants sticking out of every available pocket! Then by chance saying hooray an expensive luggage shop ideal just what I need!
I supposed I am quite a seasoned flyer having the experience of a plane tilting 45 degrees in strong winds on approach to Birmingham Airport to wrestling with an elderly Arab lady at Dubai airport. The wrestling was not part of the in flight entertainment but more an example of no one now listens to announcements on any form of transport system we have become conditioned it. Travel “Worst” Great Western Railways and we all switched off to the Conductor telling us that the “Super have a nice day ticket” is not valid and unless you get off the train your house will be repossessed and your children sent to the workhouse. “Please keep all your belongings with you” No one listens, and lets face it no really wants to watch the stewardess tell us how to attach our lifejacket when we are hurtling at 600 mph into the Atlantic Ocean 2000 miles from nearest landmass. I have found the only people watching are either intoxicated by vast quantities of duty free or testosterone on a rugby club tour that fancy their chances of a quick grope. Even the bloody captain has to apologise these days for the safety announcement and begs us to listen!
Now an example of this disrespect for announcements and safety rules was witnessed by myself. I was flying back to London from Joberg, to us frequent flyers or “mugging city” to most of the World via Dubai. We were flying Emirates airlines, which was most impressive I would think so when you consider the cash they can flash. We landed at Dubai and next to me a small Arab lady was sat. As we taxied to the hard standing the mad scramble to get to the overhead lockers commenced. You know what I am saying here it’s like Pamplona all over again, stewardesses screaming on the microphone to sit down in 48 different languages and turning the stay seated lights on and off. I had worked out the only language they had failed to give the warning too was dialect that the old lady sat next to me spoke. This sprightly lady was standing on the seat and me to rescue her full carrier bag full of duty free Jonnie Walker. She had worked out the only way she could get the angle she wanted to lever her bulging bag out of the overhead locker was to standing on the arm rest my shoulder and the hippy looking lad sat next to her. The trouble is her bony elbow was stuck in my ear, causing me to cry out in pain as all you could see were the little ladies legs sticking out of the locker. There was a temptation to flip her into the locker and close the door, but the thought of her trapped in a locker with all that duty free was too much even for me to bear.
I was too shocked to complain, in fact speechless, as her foot had caught my chin as she descended from the locker. But resolved to trip her up later and push her on the carousel later as she waited for her bags. She was however very nippy and like a mole keeping low and digging her way down to the front of the plane. I lost sight of her, but could tell where she was but the passengers who were suddenly lurching out of the way and the crashing down of hand luggage as they suffered injuries caused by this diminutive whirlwind. Just as the commotion died down and the old lady had got to front of the plane, the back doors opened right next to where the old lady was sitting and me and the hippy made our exit before the typhoon started her journey back up the plane.
Anyway back to films.
Now I have been known in my time to frequent cinemas of many different types, but with respect Bollywood films are hard to follow at the best of times. Well the first reasons is obvious unlike your local Odeon you have to watch them in “cast” what I mean by that is forget the popcorn and ice cream get stuck into the samosas and chutneys, alas all of this has an adverse effect on your ability to sit through a whole Bollywood film without need the assistance of Pile cream. The second is obvious I do not speak Hindi! Now in Brixton the local cinema shows some quite alternative films and last summer the choice was Motorcycle Diaries or some crap Italian Movie, thinking I was being trendy I watched the Italian movie. When we came out of the movie a local South London trendy type looking like Noel Gallagher said to me “You understand that mate? it was all Greek to me” Without thinking, because as we now know wearing an overcoat in summer is risky let alone being cheeky to a local bohemian type, in Brixton, I retorted “Well mate you wouldn’t it was an Italian Film” He replied understand this “F*”K Off “ I understood this verbal interaction!
So understanding Hindu is pretty fundamental to understanding Bollywood.
I have the ability to talk to me without prompting. In fact I am in more demand to talk to by strangers than Liz Hurley is by cameramen. I am always the bloke that gets the drunk sit next to you on the tube. You see them coming down the stairs, Stella in hand, swaying onto the tube train and under your breath you say not me please not me, but they do make a beeline for me and start a conversation with me which the only words you understand are the Fs, Cs and Ws.
Of course then things get lost in translation a Bollywood movie called “Masala” in this country conjours up the thoughts of a “bright creamy tomato sauce” rather than a film that has a wild mixture or romance, a cheeky Indian Arthur Askey type chappy, adventure and tragedy, with a bit of knockabout comedy, pathos, emotion, musical numbers and not a waiter in sight.
Now talking of waiters in my local “Paradise Palace” whose title could double as massage parlour if it were not in Dawlish, why is it that you can walk into an empty restaurant and the “maitre de” screams at you “have you booked, have you booked” of course you have not and he searches through his non existent booking lists and eventually able to find you a table in his empty bistro which funny enough is always next to the murals of tigers being massacred!
Lets face why do we spend so much money on a food, which causes physical pain either on the way or on the way out like we do with an Indian? Would you eat broken glass?
Now Bollywood movies are far too commercial. They are sponsored by various Indian companies who are doing rather well. The first time I really noticed sponsorship was after an interview with the Great Auzzie fast bowler “Merv Moustache Hughes for those who do not know Merv he is a fast talking, big Auzzie who yes looks like he should be walking the poodle in Eastbourne, but I can assure you he eats chickens, beer cans and children whole. Merv had just threatened to kill the umpire or something similar with his bare hands, when on came the advert sponsored by “Norwich Union Insurance for all your insurance needs” Better tell the umpire mate Merv is after you.
I am truly rambling now its 2315 on my first night here in the Hospital. Kevin warned me that it would be noisy on the ward and I now know the reason opposite there is a geezer semi asleep mumbling loudly in his sleep like a 1970s German Porn Star. I will start getting concerned when he starts shouts “Duck me, Duck me” and “Das good, Das good”
I am listening to a compilation of tunes on my “Ibiza Summer 20 Chemo hits” I decided to record 20 hits to spend the summer swinging too as I hip hop through the valley of boredom, sickness, and irrationality. It’s a funky blend of old and new but all them you want to stand up and sing to and I must admit I have been foot tapping, but not in that embarrassing way Fatty Prescott did tapping and air singing “Things can only get fatter” after the 1997 election win.
Day 66 - In Hospital
Well technically I am I told the ward staff I was going for a walk, but really I am home having hot footed here in my car, wristband on, hospital tea inside me, well about 500 calories of it, and my room without a view and the pool sorted. Things are so going down hill in the NHS!
I have been booked in by the doctor and all ready for the midnight sessions to kick off. I decided to come home because the waiting until midnight is frankly intolerable, despite the fact I have 9 hours of Lord of the Rings films to catch up on. The ward will be quiet tonight, only 4 out of the 6 beds are occupied and I have as requested a bed in the corner away from the noise and prying eyes of staff desk. I am lucky tonight because Cllr Kevin Mitchell, he of fish advice, bingo, speedway and Exeter City AFC fame is on duty. Kevin has always maintained he would not work on the ward if I was on the ward, mainly because of the difficult questions I would ask him about things he would be doing, and less to do with injecting your mates with the wrong juice, not in a shipman way, well I hope not!
I asked him to promise not to be too bossy and call me Mr Gooding, but it kind of embarrassing as I will have to be on best behaviour and leave the Father Jack tendencies at home. I must admit though he has been a rock, calls me everyday to check up on me, bollocks me when appropriate and I have Kevin to thank for not being tube fed by his constant badgering on eating and taking in calories. I just wish he would stop ringing me from pubs saying how wonderful the beer tastes and he is looking forward too another pint!
Well as expected the camper failed its MOT, Ali my Iranian mechanic, yes you heard me who is married to my mate "Big Charlie’s" sister has always looked after my cars for the last 20 years. Ali came to the UK when things went west with the Shah in the 1980s and quite frankly an amazing bloke to know. He also runs a very successful cab firm, but you can rest assured Ali will get things sorted and fixed for you at half the price of your high street garage. The only trouble is he told me what the camper failed on, I nodded and he said bring it down on Thursday I will do the work, and get it through the MOT, and "bring it down on Thursday" was the only bit I understood during our conversation, who cares by Thursday night I will have the van with an MOT and campers watch out!
I better go and sort things out at least by this time tomorrow I will only have one 4 hour bag of saline solution to go and I will be 66% through chemo and 51% through Radiotherapy!
Keep attacking! Nigel
PS: Mick Wilkinson I am sorry but I just do not believe you and the cat sorry! I use to wonder where you got those furry gloves in winter!
I have been booked in by the doctor and all ready for the midnight sessions to kick off. I decided to come home because the waiting until midnight is frankly intolerable, despite the fact I have 9 hours of Lord of the Rings films to catch up on. The ward will be quiet tonight, only 4 out of the 6 beds are occupied and I have as requested a bed in the corner away from the noise and prying eyes of staff desk. I am lucky tonight because Cllr Kevin Mitchell, he of fish advice, bingo, speedway and Exeter City AFC fame is on duty. Kevin has always maintained he would not work on the ward if I was on the ward, mainly because of the difficult questions I would ask him about things he would be doing, and less to do with injecting your mates with the wrong juice, not in a shipman way, well I hope not!
I asked him to promise not to be too bossy and call me Mr Gooding, but it kind of embarrassing as I will have to be on best behaviour and leave the Father Jack tendencies at home. I must admit though he has been a rock, calls me everyday to check up on me, bollocks me when appropriate and I have Kevin to thank for not being tube fed by his constant badgering on eating and taking in calories. I just wish he would stop ringing me from pubs saying how wonderful the beer tastes and he is looking forward too another pint!
Well as expected the camper failed its MOT, Ali my Iranian mechanic, yes you heard me who is married to my mate "Big Charlie’s" sister has always looked after my cars for the last 20 years. Ali came to the UK when things went west with the Shah in the 1980s and quite frankly an amazing bloke to know. He also runs a very successful cab firm, but you can rest assured Ali will get things sorted and fixed for you at half the price of your high street garage. The only trouble is he told me what the camper failed on, I nodded and he said bring it down on Thursday I will do the work, and get it through the MOT, and "bring it down on Thursday" was the only bit I understood during our conversation, who cares by Thursday night I will have the van with an MOT and campers watch out!
I better go and sort things out at least by this time tomorrow I will only have one 4 hour bag of saline solution to go and I will be 66% through chemo and 51% through Radiotherapy!
Keep attacking! Nigel
PS: Mick Wilkinson I am sorry but I just do not believe you and the cat sorry! I use to wonder where you got those furry gloves in winter!
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Day 65 - What happened after Mike TV bought it?
Ok I fell asleep with 20 minutes to go in Charlie and the Chocolate factory, just after the bit when "Mike TV" was zapped by "Wonka Television" so what happened in the end I am sure Charlie won the prize but can anyone enlighten me?
Today was tough I managed to leave my wallet in the camper van yesterday. Myself and Steve took the camper van in for MOT ready for Monday. I have always been paranoid about wallets etc and leaving in the van on a garage forecourt was not a good idea. So I was up at 7am into Exeter picked the wallet up and back in bed by 8am getting up at 1330 hours.
I took the children to the fish shop and the airport as they are due to go on their first aeronautical experience very soon and they loved every minute of it, but about 1530 a waved of tiredness appeared over me which I have never experienced before. I got home and was unable to keep awake getting the children sorted then falling asleep on the sofa only managing to wake up when their mum arrived to take them home.
There was a strange incident at the airport but running from the airport building to the car in a rain storm my trousers fell down, yep fell down, an indication of how much weight I have lost and the effect of weight loss. I am seriously considering food options for me when I come home from chemo but a nasal feed tube maybe an option I will have to go for. Today's calorie intake has been just over 1000 calories I need at least 2500 at the moment but just getting down is so hard. I know I will lose another 7-10 pounds this week after chemo so time will tell but I will not hesitate to go for nasal tube feeding should I need too.
One thing I have noticed I have noticed is the mysterious wave of sleep that appears suddenly. The last 2 weeks it appears like a sea mist and sleeping gas which makes me want to go straight to bed.
Its now just 25 hours before the start of chemo and being honest the pain for sleep has overtaken my fear of the next few days, but tomorrow I will be back on the chemo bike and just 3 weeks and 3 days left.
Keep attacking! N x
Today was tough I managed to leave my wallet in the camper van yesterday. Myself and Steve took the camper van in for MOT ready for Monday. I have always been paranoid about wallets etc and leaving in the van on a garage forecourt was not a good idea. So I was up at 7am into Exeter picked the wallet up and back in bed by 8am getting up at 1330 hours.
I took the children to the fish shop and the airport as they are due to go on their first aeronautical experience very soon and they loved every minute of it, but about 1530 a waved of tiredness appeared over me which I have never experienced before. I got home and was unable to keep awake getting the children sorted then falling asleep on the sofa only managing to wake up when their mum arrived to take them home.
There was a strange incident at the airport but running from the airport building to the car in a rain storm my trousers fell down, yep fell down, an indication of how much weight I have lost and the effect of weight loss. I am seriously considering food options for me when I come home from chemo but a nasal feed tube maybe an option I will have to go for. Today's calorie intake has been just over 1000 calories I need at least 2500 at the moment but just getting down is so hard. I know I will lose another 7-10 pounds this week after chemo so time will tell but I will not hesitate to go for nasal tube feeding should I need too.
One thing I have noticed I have noticed is the mysterious wave of sleep that appears suddenly. The last 2 weeks it appears like a sea mist and sleeping gas which makes me want to go straight to bed.
Its now just 25 hours before the start of chemo and being honest the pain for sleep has overtaken my fear of the next few days, but tomorrow I will be back on the chemo bike and just 3 weeks and 3 days left.
Keep attacking! N x
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Day 64 - Weak men believe in luck, strong men is cause an effect
I spent most of Saturday tucked up in bed, alas the longer you sleep the longer you are away from taking the painkillers. I have worked out that because my saliva rates are low I actually dribble in the night, charming for a lover but then if you sleep alone then how can it be embarrassing!
It has not been a "lucky" week for me in fact my luck at the moment would mean attendance at swingers party would end up getting my own keys and missing all the action, not that the concept appeals to me, wrestling with a sumo couple from Bideford squeezed into their best leather chaps!
Well thank you for all the concern about the fish, however I did have this fear of sitting on the loo and having fish staring at you out of the toilet plan. This did not help last night when I decided to dispose of half eaten rice crispies down the same loo. Tonight the thought of fish gorging on rice crispies is a fear that I will have to conquer when using the old white telephone.
The last couple of days I have a sackful of visitors and thanks to Chris, Steve, Jan and Tallia for making Thursday/Friday/Sat go so quickly. I must admit everyone remarked how well I looked I am not sure what they were expecting but "news of my death have been exaggerated" I told you last week that I feel reasonably well apart from the pain in my tonsil, throat and tongue area now being affected daily by the radiotherapy. In fact with the help of the morphine I am able to negate the pain for a few hours. I thought the skin would break up on my neck where the radio waves enter my body and maybe that will happen in time, but the regular creaming of the spot has meant that patch is just no more than sun burn.
I have just 2 more days to the next session of chemo, the start being getting into the Hospital about 4pm on Monday, and seeing the doctor, then coming home for a few hours before returning to the hospital overnight for the midnight start of the 23 hour drips and the constant beeping of GIMPS as the fluid drips run out. I think mentally I am a lot more prepared for the session, and I know what to expect, however with my white cells at their lowest I only hope that Friday's blood test has risen otherwise an injection would be required to stimulate the production of white blood cells in my bone marrow. It is only normal for chemo to lower my blood count and I have been expecting an infection of some sort which I have managed to avoid. The experts have said I may not have the side effects as my body will have adjusted to cisplatin or I may have stronger side effects because my immune system is well shot. Well this time next week I will know and find out. It will not be easy next week but at least I will be more prepared this time.
The visit yesterday of Jan and her 2 year daughter Tallia was a joy. It was great to see them both, and her daughter is delightful, as most 2 year old daughters are. There is a clear difference between the girls and boys at that age but what it did do is bring me back on how bad I miss my children and family life. I do not miss my old family life, that is the past and there is no going back, what it did prove to me what I have been thinking for the last 4 months that my destiny lies with family life, the joy, the support and joy it brings alongside my burning desire to be a father again. It is easy when you are ill to play the victim but my illness can not be attributed to anyone thing so forget the victim I cannot control the past, only the future and lets face it I do produce fantastic children with their fathers good looks!
Keep attacking! N x
It has not been a "lucky" week for me in fact my luck at the moment would mean attendance at swingers party would end up getting my own keys and missing all the action, not that the concept appeals to me, wrestling with a sumo couple from Bideford squeezed into their best leather chaps!
Well thank you for all the concern about the fish, however I did have this fear of sitting on the loo and having fish staring at you out of the toilet plan. This did not help last night when I decided to dispose of half eaten rice crispies down the same loo. Tonight the thought of fish gorging on rice crispies is a fear that I will have to conquer when using the old white telephone.
The last couple of days I have a sackful of visitors and thanks to Chris, Steve, Jan and Tallia for making Thursday/Friday/Sat go so quickly. I must admit everyone remarked how well I looked I am not sure what they were expecting but "news of my death have been exaggerated" I told you last week that I feel reasonably well apart from the pain in my tonsil, throat and tongue area now being affected daily by the radiotherapy. In fact with the help of the morphine I am able to negate the pain for a few hours. I thought the skin would break up on my neck where the radio waves enter my body and maybe that will happen in time, but the regular creaming of the spot has meant that patch is just no more than sun burn.
I have just 2 more days to the next session of chemo, the start being getting into the Hospital about 4pm on Monday, and seeing the doctor, then coming home for a few hours before returning to the hospital overnight for the midnight start of the 23 hour drips and the constant beeping of GIMPS as the fluid drips run out. I think mentally I am a lot more prepared for the session, and I know what to expect, however with my white cells at their lowest I only hope that Friday's blood test has risen otherwise an injection would be required to stimulate the production of white blood cells in my bone marrow. It is only normal for chemo to lower my blood count and I have been expecting an infection of some sort which I have managed to avoid. The experts have said I may not have the side effects as my body will have adjusted to cisplatin or I may have stronger side effects because my immune system is well shot. Well this time next week I will know and find out. It will not be easy next week but at least I will be more prepared this time.
The visit yesterday of Jan and her 2 year daughter Tallia was a joy. It was great to see them both, and her daughter is delightful, as most 2 year old daughters are. There is a clear difference between the girls and boys at that age but what it did do is bring me back on how bad I miss my children and family life. I do not miss my old family life, that is the past and there is no going back, what it did prove to me what I have been thinking for the last 4 months that my destiny lies with family life, the joy, the support and joy it brings alongside my burning desire to be a father again. It is easy when you are ill to play the victim but my illness can not be attributed to anyone thing so forget the victim I cannot control the past, only the future and lets face it I do produce fantastic children with their fathers good looks!
Keep attacking! N x
Friday, July 22, 2005
Day 63 - Radiotheraphy pictures
This is the face mask which helps to "tie" you down to the table.
Once you are strapped into the mask, lasers are used to ensure the equipment is set up correctly.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Day 62 - Radiotheraphy pictures (contd)
This is me of course strapped onto the table by my face mask, they have cut the eyes out this week to make more comfortable.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Day 61 - The fish are dead long live the King
It was nice of my three fish all to die on exactly the same day, exactly the same time! I am sure their death had nothing to do with the changing of the water and clean up operation 24 hours earlier! The death of three fish creates a major headache for me. How the hell am I going to get three identiical fish and fool my Children that their father killed "Moby, Speed and Nemo" all in one go through his liberal use of swimbladder treatment!
The trouble in they are stripey, not bland gold, but bloody stripey. I was able to bluff my way around the death of the last fish, but three could be a bit of a challenge. I can imagine them in 20 years time at University parties drunk and in tears and saying "my father was useless he even killed my fish" The best advice is not to inform Children that their daddy killed the fish but to bluff, "they were too big so I gave them to someone who have a pond...or next doors cat has eaten them, or I swapped them for these new shiny minnow types" I think my illness is insignificant compared to bluffing my children, so any ideas would be welcome.
Whilst I was thinking what to do and getting my normal fishy advice from "Aqua man" Kevin Mitchell I managed to secure 3 huge bottles of "Oramorph" from the Doctors at the hospital. That is some large dose of Morphine! The secret is have it just before you eat in relative pain free although it does make you feel sick.
The pain in my throat varies, and when the painkillers wear off it is like being stabbed in the neck, eating is impossible and swallowing is just pointless!
Anyway off to Pets at Home to try and find some shiny glow in the dark minnows!
The trouble in they are stripey, not bland gold, but bloody stripey. I was able to bluff my way around the death of the last fish, but three could be a bit of a challenge. I can imagine them in 20 years time at University parties drunk and in tears and saying "my father was useless he even killed my fish" The best advice is not to inform Children that their daddy killed the fish but to bluff, "they were too big so I gave them to someone who have a pond...or next doors cat has eaten them, or I swapped them for these new shiny minnow types" I think my illness is insignificant compared to bluffing my children, so any ideas would be welcome.
Whilst I was thinking what to do and getting my normal fishy advice from "Aqua man" Kevin Mitchell I managed to secure 3 huge bottles of "Oramorph" from the Doctors at the hospital. That is some large dose of Morphine! The secret is have it just before you eat in relative pain free although it does make you feel sick.
The pain in my throat varies, and when the painkillers wear off it is like being stabbed in the neck, eating is impossible and swallowing is just pointless!
Anyway off to Pets at Home to try and find some shiny glow in the dark minnows!
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Day 60 - More bland and a bit of pain
My throat hurts! I woke up with the mother of all migraines, it was like the troop of the household cavalry had ran over my head and not content came back for seconds. My throat was sore, dry and I started crying realising that my days of normality and control in my life were over. I realised that the ability to speak and be understood is now hard and that swallowing is virtually impossible, even liquids are through a straw.
I found some very strong painkillers I had left over from surgery and they have done the trick. I have an appointment on Thursday to attend the weekly clinic and it is time for the morphine to see me through the next 4 weeks.
In yesterday's post I slagged off the male race, well there are two people who instantly step away from the "macho" my scar is bigger than yours, or I needed PEG feeding before you brigade. They are my brother in law Ron, I called him yesterday to give me a lift into the hospital and he obliged without question like he has done virtually everyday of my treatment and my dear friend Steve Lawry, now in our 30th year.
The trip to radiotherapy combined with a discussion with the dietician, and we worked out that this week I have been only able to get in about 1000 calories a day. I have arrested the weightloss, but we both knew that next week that will reverse as chemo takes it toll. I was sent to Tescos with a shopping list which must admit resembled celebrity fat club Christmas party hamper, full fat milk, double cream, chocolate this and that! Well it is the 1st time in my life I can eat what I want and advised "eat boy eat" and I do not feel like it.
So Im off to look at my bulging fridge, then close the door and get the soup out, one day soon I will taste food again!
I found some very strong painkillers I had left over from surgery and they have done the trick. I have an appointment on Thursday to attend the weekly clinic and it is time for the morphine to see me through the next 4 weeks.
In yesterday's post I slagged off the male race, well there are two people who instantly step away from the "macho" my scar is bigger than yours, or I needed PEG feeding before you brigade. They are my brother in law Ron, I called him yesterday to give me a lift into the hospital and he obliged without question like he has done virtually everyday of my treatment and my dear friend Steve Lawry, now in our 30th year.
The trip to radiotherapy combined with a discussion with the dietician, and we worked out that this week I have been only able to get in about 1000 calories a day. I have arrested the weightloss, but we both knew that next week that will reverse as chemo takes it toll. I was sent to Tescos with a shopping list which must admit resembled celebrity fat club Christmas party hamper, full fat milk, double cream, chocolate this and that! Well it is the 1st time in my life I can eat what I want and advised "eat boy eat" and I do not feel like it.
So Im off to look at my bulging fridge, then close the door and get the soup out, one day soon I will taste food again!
Monday, July 18, 2005
Day 59 - Blokism stinks!
Why are some blokes crap! I have tonight cancelled my membership of www.mouthcancerfoundation.org I joined some weeks ago when I wanted further information on mouth/oral cancer and thought yes be amongst people who have been through similar things and you will get support and strength from them.
Now many years ago when I lived in Exminster I started a men's running group. The ladies group in the village who are approaching ten years of running "The women's running network" was booming with 20/30 ladies turning up each club night. Having run many miles on my own I thought what a good idea it would be to start a men's group for the village. Well we started off with 5, then 3 then 0 and for many nights I would turn up and I would be on my own. I talked to a lot of people and we agreed that men were too competitive to join running groups and the only ones they did join were those who ran quickly and stuffed the team element.
Well www.mouthcancerfoundation.org is very similar to my running group, you join because you expect support, but end up getting blokes, and they are mainly blokes writing to you telling you how tough they are and they survived and for you sucker it will be hard. I get the impression they think there is some "macho" band of brothers who slap each others back on the pain they endured and how great they are. I clearly got the impression that they were keen to "fear" maybe it is their way of dealing with, maybe it was their way of saying it is going to be hard. I know we are all different and deal with things differently but the site went from support to sharing horror stories. I did make it clear to my fellow sufferers that medical staff had given me the sackful of bad news stories and help would be forthcoming. You can guess what happened more bad news stories from blokes, all about pain, PEG feeding and quite forceful advice to the verge of screaming at me. I did have some fantastic stories from Women, their own experiences and of their partners, non competitive and caring. I have never understood the caveman concept, and never will.
The caveman instinct is very interesting, those who know me well I have been involved in football locally for 25 years since the age of 16, retiring my position as an FA Councillor this year. I am big and ugly enough to know that thanks are few and far between and I never went through 25 years for thanks. However, not one of my former football colleagues have asked how I am or made contact. Yet take Rugby, Wessex RFC have sent their regards and kind wishes, you can guess where my loyalties lie in the future.
People ask why do I have more women then men friends? I rest my case!
Today was very tiring, I slept very well, in fact sleep has been the one blessing of being ill, it is clear my body needs to recover. I got up in time to greet "cleaning for god" Olive the new cleaner, fortunately I managed to avoid the "Watchtower" and got myself off to the Hospital.
When I awoke this morning my throat was very dry and the pain had reduced mainly due to the fact that I had found some chunky painkillers left over from neck operation. However, within seconds of leaving the radiotherapy table I could feel the burning on my throat and the pain return. The usual remedies mouthwash are too harsh without painkillers so I have adopted salty water as an effective short term remedy.
It will not be long before it is liquid only, food still tastes metallic and I have been told it is like being pregnant you try many different things until you find something that you are happy with. Lets hope it involves cheese and blueberry jam :)
I went to bed at 4pm and got up 9pm, after a phone call from Sarah to ask me to help with William who was refusing to go to Tescos! Well cannot blame the lad but it was a hard thing for me to do because I felt helpless as a dad, he went to Tescos and job done. I do worry about how my children have taken my illness and I know William as kept things bottled up so in three weeks time I will be pleased this is over for me and them.
Keep attacking! Nigel x
Now many years ago when I lived in Exminster I started a men's running group. The ladies group in the village who are approaching ten years of running "The women's running network" was booming with 20/30 ladies turning up each club night. Having run many miles on my own I thought what a good idea it would be to start a men's group for the village. Well we started off with 5, then 3 then 0 and for many nights I would turn up and I would be on my own. I talked to a lot of people and we agreed that men were too competitive to join running groups and the only ones they did join were those who ran quickly and stuffed the team element.
Well www.mouthcancerfoundation.org is very similar to my running group, you join because you expect support, but end up getting blokes, and they are mainly blokes writing to you telling you how tough they are and they survived and for you sucker it will be hard. I get the impression they think there is some "macho" band of brothers who slap each others back on the pain they endured and how great they are. I clearly got the impression that they were keen to "fear" maybe it is their way of dealing with, maybe it was their way of saying it is going to be hard. I know we are all different and deal with things differently but the site went from support to sharing horror stories. I did make it clear to my fellow sufferers that medical staff had given me the sackful of bad news stories and help would be forthcoming. You can guess what happened more bad news stories from blokes, all about pain, PEG feeding and quite forceful advice to the verge of screaming at me. I did have some fantastic stories from Women, their own experiences and of their partners, non competitive and caring. I have never understood the caveman concept, and never will.
The caveman instinct is very interesting, those who know me well I have been involved in football locally for 25 years since the age of 16, retiring my position as an FA Councillor this year. I am big and ugly enough to know that thanks are few and far between and I never went through 25 years for thanks. However, not one of my former football colleagues have asked how I am or made contact. Yet take Rugby, Wessex RFC have sent their regards and kind wishes, you can guess where my loyalties lie in the future.
People ask why do I have more women then men friends? I rest my case!
Today was very tiring, I slept very well, in fact sleep has been the one blessing of being ill, it is clear my body needs to recover. I got up in time to greet "cleaning for god" Olive the new cleaner, fortunately I managed to avoid the "Watchtower" and got myself off to the Hospital.
When I awoke this morning my throat was very dry and the pain had reduced mainly due to the fact that I had found some chunky painkillers left over from neck operation. However, within seconds of leaving the radiotherapy table I could feel the burning on my throat and the pain return. The usual remedies mouthwash are too harsh without painkillers so I have adopted salty water as an effective short term remedy.
It will not be long before it is liquid only, food still tastes metallic and I have been told it is like being pregnant you try many different things until you find something that you are happy with. Lets hope it involves cheese and blueberry jam :)
I went to bed at 4pm and got up 9pm, after a phone call from Sarah to ask me to help with William who was refusing to go to Tescos! Well cannot blame the lad but it was a hard thing for me to do because I felt helpless as a dad, he went to Tescos and job done. I do worry about how my children have taken my illness and I know William as kept things bottled up so in three weeks time I will be pleased this is over for me and them.
Keep attacking! Nigel x
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Day 58 - Bland
I was reading an article today in the Observer, 789 people a day in the UK get told they have cancer, now I did not challenge that statistic in terms everyday? weekends? excluding weekends etc but it is a staggering number. Mind you hardly suprising when you consider there are now 200 illnesses that make up cancer.
I have had lots of advice of yesterday but can assure you it was justified. Things were not good orally when I woke up, a razor sharp tounge and throat and expelled blood during the night, soemthing which will be flagged up tomorrow at the hospital. I must admit I did over do it physically and mentally yesterday and deserved the feeling I had this morning. The soundest bit of advice I had this morning was from my friend Jan:
"so feel like shit, moan as much as you like, say things youve always wanted to say and blame it on your illness. sleep, watch telly, and just wait for when things are getting better, and when you better, you will be a better person"
Jan is spot on need to understand I am ill and going through fairly chunky treatment so I need to chill for the next 4 weeks.
I am concerned that I have already become an expert on antiques, holiday homes in Portugal and know every word of the Ocean Finance advert, the one where Carol Voderman tells us at a competitive interest rate of 10.5% we can clear all our debts. Subtle, but the Ocean finance advert tends to be played right during horse racing programmes, now that is a bit like asking me to buy 200 duty free fags! Hey but at least the Ashes and Glorious Goodwood starts real soon so life does has a few ups :)
On that matter I am on my soap box, not not over Carol Voderman and a competitive rate of interest, passive smoking. At the Royal Devon & Exeter Hospital there is a separate car park for the Exeter Oncology Centre, you then have to walk 50 metres to the centre for treatment or clinic. In addition all the oncology wards are that end of the hospital. However, there is some sort of sick and obsence joke going on. The staff/patiant smoking bus shelter is next to the Oncology centre, you have to get out your car run the gaunlett of staff and people attached to machines, having a swift fag. For someone who has oral cancer which may have been caused by passive smoking you can imagine my anger at having to run the gauntlett of smokers positioned such a short distance away from the Oncology centre, how sick is that!
Enough of soap boxes, time to get my application in to Ocean finance!
I have had lots of advice of yesterday but can assure you it was justified. Things were not good orally when I woke up, a razor sharp tounge and throat and expelled blood during the night, soemthing which will be flagged up tomorrow at the hospital. I must admit I did over do it physically and mentally yesterday and deserved the feeling I had this morning. The soundest bit of advice I had this morning was from my friend Jan:
"so feel like shit, moan as much as you like, say things youve always wanted to say and blame it on your illness. sleep, watch telly, and just wait for when things are getting better, and when you better, you will be a better person"
Jan is spot on need to understand I am ill and going through fairly chunky treatment so I need to chill for the next 4 weeks.
I am concerned that I have already become an expert on antiques, holiday homes in Portugal and know every word of the Ocean Finance advert, the one where Carol Voderman tells us at a competitive interest rate of 10.5% we can clear all our debts. Subtle, but the Ocean finance advert tends to be played right during horse racing programmes, now that is a bit like asking me to buy 200 duty free fags! Hey but at least the Ashes and Glorious Goodwood starts real soon so life does has a few ups :)
On that matter I am on my soap box, not not over Carol Voderman and a competitive rate of interest, passive smoking. At the Royal Devon & Exeter Hospital there is a separate car park for the Exeter Oncology Centre, you then have to walk 50 metres to the centre for treatment or clinic. In addition all the oncology wards are that end of the hospital. However, there is some sort of sick and obsence joke going on. The staff/patiant smoking bus shelter is next to the Oncology centre, you have to get out your car run the gaunlett of staff and people attached to machines, having a swift fag. For someone who has oral cancer which may have been caused by passive smoking you can imagine my anger at having to run the gauntlett of smokers positioned such a short distance away from the Oncology centre, how sick is that!
Enough of soap boxes, time to get my application in to Ocean finance!
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Day 57 - Under promise and over deliver
Managing people’s expectations in life is always very difficult, managing your children’s expectations and failing to deliver them is even harder. And fail to deliver your own, you have lost it.
I have the adage in life “under promise and over deliver" it will be there in three days time, get it there next day and people feel you have over delivered. It becomes of being a World guru in delivery of customer services. I can say that as I spoke at the African Call Centre Conference!
Anyway the gist of managing expectations will become apparent throughout this post.
I woke up feeling very drained, throat on fire, and mouth very dry, tongue very painful, it is white and feels that someone has slit it. I thought long and hard and called Sarah to ask her to drop William over so that I could take him out in the “Black Pig” the weather was good, tides rights and no swell. I prepared everything hitched up the boat and will always remember the look on his little face. On his arrival I told him the good news got his wetsuit out and we got changed.
The trip to the launch ramp is less than 100 metres in the car, the car is needed to move the trolley up/down the ramp, the launch went well and the boat was in deep enough to get the engine going. I will cut a long story short the engine failed to start, we were drifting around the harbour without power and I was exhausted trying to pull the start cord. Alas it brings the worst out in me, not only do I shout at the “Today” programme I also manage to shout at broken down mechanical equipment. In the past I have been known to kick cars, camper vans and computers in a compassionate way in an attempt to encourage the machine to start.
The long and short of it was a crying lad and early back to port! It was hard to assess who was most disappointed as I think WG (William) derived more fun from hosing down the boat and making soup for our tea, (solid foods are now out) than the whole boaty experience. Perhaps it was his dad who was more disappointed?
I came back exhausted but able to make the first soup of new range of “Goodie Soups” with my son, which in essence was a rewarding experience, it was carrot, cumin, parsley and garlic and to be frank it was awesome, even I was able to taste it, and WG scoffed the lot. We talked about going into business together making soup and I think a new enterprise was born.
Minding children, however how well behaved is hard work, the great conversation and fantastic questions they come out with took its toll by 6pm and the tiredness set in. I was unable to have conservation as it hurt and my mouth and I was happy to see his mum. I was aware that I was caught by my daughter in pain after taking some mouthwash. There was a moment we both looked at each other, the look I remember when I first saw my own father in pain. She is only 4 but I have tried to protect her from pain, but my mouth was very sore and I did not realise she was there.
Whatever happens to me in life my children will come first, and my time with them is at a premium.
I have made a major life decision tonight, but will keep you on edge until tomorrow!
I have the adage in life “under promise and over deliver" it will be there in three days time, get it there next day and people feel you have over delivered. It becomes of being a World guru in delivery of customer services. I can say that as I spoke at the African Call Centre Conference!
Anyway the gist of managing expectations will become apparent throughout this post.
I woke up feeling very drained, throat on fire, and mouth very dry, tongue very painful, it is white and feels that someone has slit it. I thought long and hard and called Sarah to ask her to drop William over so that I could take him out in the “Black Pig” the weather was good, tides rights and no swell. I prepared everything hitched up the boat and will always remember the look on his little face. On his arrival I told him the good news got his wetsuit out and we got changed.
The trip to the launch ramp is less than 100 metres in the car, the car is needed to move the trolley up/down the ramp, the launch went well and the boat was in deep enough to get the engine going. I will cut a long story short the engine failed to start, we were drifting around the harbour without power and I was exhausted trying to pull the start cord. Alas it brings the worst out in me, not only do I shout at the “Today” programme I also manage to shout at broken down mechanical equipment. In the past I have been known to kick cars, camper vans and computers in a compassionate way in an attempt to encourage the machine to start.
The long and short of it was a crying lad and early back to port! It was hard to assess who was most disappointed as I think WG (William) derived more fun from hosing down the boat and making soup for our tea, (solid foods are now out) than the whole boaty experience. Perhaps it was his dad who was more disappointed?
I came back exhausted but able to make the first soup of new range of “Goodie Soups” with my son, which in essence was a rewarding experience, it was carrot, cumin, parsley and garlic and to be frank it was awesome, even I was able to taste it, and WG scoffed the lot. We talked about going into business together making soup and I think a new enterprise was born.
Minding children, however how well behaved is hard work, the great conversation and fantastic questions they come out with took its toll by 6pm and the tiredness set in. I was unable to have conservation as it hurt and my mouth and I was happy to see his mum. I was aware that I was caught by my daughter in pain after taking some mouthwash. There was a moment we both looked at each other, the look I remember when I first saw my own father in pain. She is only 4 but I have tried to protect her from pain, but my mouth was very sore and I did not realise she was there.
Whatever happens to me in life my children will come first, and my time with them is at a premium.
I have made a major life decision tonight, but will keep you on edge until tomorrow!
Friday, July 15, 2005
Day 56 - Ok lets get a few things straight
Campers
It is now time to be upfront with you.
My mouth is getting sore, very dry, my tounge is shrinking, getting white, and its horrible. My throat is starting to get sore. Talking is difficult as my tounge lacks the dextrity to speak at times.
I have 26 more doses of radiotheraphy and 2 more chemo sessions.
It will get worse from here on in, although I have drugs they can only give cosmetic relief. I will be lucky to still be on solid foods by this time next week. Speech will be near impossible.
So I must now warn you it is the next 3 weeks in which I need help, that includes making food, blending, helping, encouragement and serious help. If wish to stay then as I have plenty of room you will be welcome. I need your help you asked me to ask I am now going to ask!
I must warn you it will not be a bag of laughs but it will help me. I will moan, I will not seem to want to talk to you, laugh at your jokes, and say things you think are harsh. However, just forget it trying to rationlise anything from now on is pointless.
Blunt and too the point but I needed to warn you it is going to get hard!
It is now time to be upfront with you.
My mouth is getting sore, very dry, my tounge is shrinking, getting white, and its horrible. My throat is starting to get sore. Talking is difficult as my tounge lacks the dextrity to speak at times.
I have 26 more doses of radiotheraphy and 2 more chemo sessions.
It will get worse from here on in, although I have drugs they can only give cosmetic relief. I will be lucky to still be on solid foods by this time next week. Speech will be near impossible.
So I must now warn you it is the next 3 weeks in which I need help, that includes making food, blending, helping, encouragement and serious help. If wish to stay then as I have plenty of room you will be welcome. I need your help you asked me to ask I am now going to ask!
I must warn you it will not be a bag of laughs but it will help me. I will moan, I will not seem to want to talk to you, laugh at your jokes, and say things you think are harsh. However, just forget it trying to rationlise anything from now on is pointless.
Blunt and too the point but I needed to warn you it is going to get hard!
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Day 55 - The Lord Mayor's escort
Small things please me these days in particular my call to Civic duty. I have at last met my life ambition to mix with the true leaders of our Country. I am to be the Deputy Lord Mayor of Exeter companion, do not laugh but the real title is "escort" well I have to do something when this is all over! Yes I can hear you say he is making this one up. Well folks I am polishing my shoes, getting my hair permed because I am in the Rolls.
I had the call yesterday from councilor Stella Brock, married to councilor Philip Brock, he of last Lib Dem County councilor to openly hug me in his health food shop in St Leonards. Now those who are aware I tend to be well suited to these occasions, mainly due to my good looks, bags of charm and past employment, in fact still have my station managers bowler hat from days when we had to escort minor Royals from railway stations when they were due to visit local cheese factories or bull sperm banks. Stella is currently Deputy Lord Mayor of Exeter and both her and Phil have been very supportive friends. Phil as well as running his shop is also on every committee in Devon and in charge of all DCC footpaths, zzzzzzzz, the leader of the council must really like him. Stella had an engagement which Phil was unable to make and as a result requested the services of "Goodie escorts"
Now there is one down side, the mayoral car is not longer a Rolls but a stretched Rover 75, with an extremely fussy driver(see yesterdays post) well I can do Rover!
Now the task or gig I have been engaged on is not an onerous one, but in fact quite a pleasant one, attending the lunch of the Wonford pensioners who are celebrating the 60th anniversary of the end of the 2nd World War, as we know from earlier posting a cause very close to my heart.
I was absolutely stunned when she asked me, in fact stopped the car and smiled because a small thing meant an awful lot to me, for the first time in my life I felt wanted, and at the moment small things are proving massive boosts. I absolutely love the City of Exeter, it has so much history and importance to me and my life and to be part of its history, even for a tiny moment will mean so much. Lets hope the punters do not ask for extras! With my tummy they might get more than bargained for!
Apart from polishing shoes and shining medals yesterday was quite a bland day, as noted it is the danger period and avoiding people is something I would certainly win a Gold medal in at the Olympics, in fact I could the next Steve Redgrave, or even Vanessa Redgrave if the mayoral thing goes ok :) I went shopping and bought a new TV and DVD player for my office and cat repellent!
I can hear the cogs working in your brain as I speak, yes cat repellent. I have a few issues, well in fact loads of issues with a "tom cat" who keeps on weeing on my door. Now I have someone I know who is related to my children who used to kidnap cats that "crapped" in his garden and take them for a drive, about 20 miles drive and leave the door open then drive off. Now he will remain nameless but I thought that extreme, well mainly because it is a waste of diesel, and the cat may try and make up during its journey to its new home, or alternatively just piss on you to get his own back on you.
I tried all methods, talking to the cat, talking to its owner who looks at your blankly and thinks "his he speaking Polish" I tried disinfectant and bleach, on the area not the cat, and even thought of Orpahs, (her of Ms Kenton 1999 retired fame) idea to sit there all night with water pistols! Now having just thought about that one I would suggest that may come in useful when I want to be sectioned under the Mental Health Act.
I thought of the Starcross Cat hounds, but then realised organic cat pee is the answer. I visited Exeter's answer to pet retail therapy "Pets at Home" and after some deliberation with an enthused young lady who was too busy texting her boyfriend to display any interest in my feline search and destroy mission. I returned to the cash desk, now "pets at homes" has a cash machine within its walls, commonly known as a vets practice. As I was standing to pay I heard a beaming vet say to a semi retired Rover 75 types, "Well we have some new products which all the staff are really excited about" Now forgive me but if you are educated as most vets tend to me these days, attractive and good with furry animals there must be something more exciting in your life than the new products for Bonzo's worms! It is worst now but I always needed the last word! I chipped in and said the Rover 75 couple: "What she really means is that they are excited about the larger profit margin she can now make"
They nodded saying something like " Was he Polish" and I left the store in search of cats!
I had the call yesterday from councilor Stella Brock, married to councilor Philip Brock, he of last Lib Dem County councilor to openly hug me in his health food shop in St Leonards. Now those who are aware I tend to be well suited to these occasions, mainly due to my good looks, bags of charm and past employment, in fact still have my station managers bowler hat from days when we had to escort minor Royals from railway stations when they were due to visit local cheese factories or bull sperm banks. Stella is currently Deputy Lord Mayor of Exeter and both her and Phil have been very supportive friends. Phil as well as running his shop is also on every committee in Devon and in charge of all DCC footpaths, zzzzzzzz, the leader of the council must really like him. Stella had an engagement which Phil was unable to make and as a result requested the services of "Goodie escorts"
Now there is one down side, the mayoral car is not longer a Rolls but a stretched Rover 75, with an extremely fussy driver(see yesterdays post) well I can do Rover!
Now the task or gig I have been engaged on is not an onerous one, but in fact quite a pleasant one, attending the lunch of the Wonford pensioners who are celebrating the 60th anniversary of the end of the 2nd World War, as we know from earlier posting a cause very close to my heart.
I was absolutely stunned when she asked me, in fact stopped the car and smiled because a small thing meant an awful lot to me, for the first time in my life I felt wanted, and at the moment small things are proving massive boosts. I absolutely love the City of Exeter, it has so much history and importance to me and my life and to be part of its history, even for a tiny moment will mean so much. Lets hope the punters do not ask for extras! With my tummy they might get more than bargained for!
Apart from polishing shoes and shining medals yesterday was quite a bland day, as noted it is the danger period and avoiding people is something I would certainly win a Gold medal in at the Olympics, in fact I could the next Steve Redgrave, or even Vanessa Redgrave if the mayoral thing goes ok :) I went shopping and bought a new TV and DVD player for my office and cat repellent!
I can hear the cogs working in your brain as I speak, yes cat repellent. I have a few issues, well in fact loads of issues with a "tom cat" who keeps on weeing on my door. Now I have someone I know who is related to my children who used to kidnap cats that "crapped" in his garden and take them for a drive, about 20 miles drive and leave the door open then drive off. Now he will remain nameless but I thought that extreme, well mainly because it is a waste of diesel, and the cat may try and make up during its journey to its new home, or alternatively just piss on you to get his own back on you.
I tried all methods, talking to the cat, talking to its owner who looks at your blankly and thinks "his he speaking Polish" I tried disinfectant and bleach, on the area not the cat, and even thought of Orpahs, (her of Ms Kenton 1999 retired fame) idea to sit there all night with water pistols! Now having just thought about that one I would suggest that may come in useful when I want to be sectioned under the Mental Health Act.
I thought of the Starcross Cat hounds, but then realised organic cat pee is the answer. I visited Exeter's answer to pet retail therapy "Pets at Home" and after some deliberation with an enthused young lady who was too busy texting her boyfriend to display any interest in my feline search and destroy mission. I returned to the cash desk, now "pets at homes" has a cash machine within its walls, commonly known as a vets practice. As I was standing to pay I heard a beaming vet say to a semi retired Rover 75 types, "Well we have some new products which all the staff are really excited about" Now forgive me but if you are educated as most vets tend to me these days, attractive and good with furry animals there must be something more exciting in your life than the new products for Bonzo's worms! It is worst now but I always needed the last word! I chipped in and said the Rover 75 couple: "What she really means is that they are excited about the larger profit margin she can now make"
They nodded saying something like " Was he Polish" and I left the store in search of cats!
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