Day 25

Last day of the second cycle, so ‘JB’s’ arrival to discuss progress prompts a medical update. PICC line very clearly a much better method of delivery – none of that painful catching of the cannula (on just about everything) not to mention the pain/bruising in the hands. Omnipresent ‘hangover’ and tinnitus, coupled with peripheral neuropathy in face and hands (seems to be morphing into Reynaud’s there). Sleep still an issue, as about 3 hours at a time is a max (but the Zopliclone has been avoided by taking daytime naps, prompted by fatigue in any event). Feeling a bit more nauseous (inpatient anti-sickness a different regime to that at home) and the muscular back pain strikes when it’s least convenient, but on balance ‘JB’ seems pleased with how things are panning out.

Charles’ Angels are in hyperdrive; what a great bunch they are. Just to get one up on the original Charlie, having featured 2 of them already in this cycle, a further 3 make today’s a hat-trick performance, roundly trouncing John Forsythe’s dismal 3-in-total effort.

Natalie Portman

Naomi Watts

Kelly Brook

Quiz result: 2 votes for each suggested answer, and no prizes for guessing Granny didn’t go for option (c). No new theories necessitates a tie-breaker: Again using your skill and judgement, explain the sign below (rules as before).

Day 24

More good news from the western front, this time courtesy of the Express

Tor’s off to Waitrose to stock up

Chemotherapy can turn you into a Hollywood A-lister, or so it seems. Fresh from the Bourne quadrilogy, Matt Damon jumps into Elysium sporting a textbook chemo hairstyle, complete with critical (terminal in his case)  illness and anally retentive vitamin C/D/E deficient complexion that only cisplatin/etoposide can provide:

Matt

Me

Have you noticed how modest all of Charles’ Angels are? Anxious to keep the paparazzi at bay, I guess. Today’s blue-gloved (as they are all) Angel is Cyndi Lauper. For tomorrow’s guest appearance Natalie Portman is promised….

Memo to Waitrose: Clearly knowingly undersold on purple tomato thing. Nothing online either. Is this a Mail vs. Express thing?

Day 23

The old nursery rhyme tells us that Wednesdays are full of woe, and so it is today, with at least 3 family members in hospital; – Uncle Alan is off to the Nuffield, Granny Robdog is off to er, another Nuffield, and I’m a guest of, hmm, the NHS (no prizes for guessing the poor relations, then).

That having been said, no ‘Bed 28’ for me this cycle as the NHS have come up trumps with ‘Suite 6’ which is a de luxe single with adjoining shower and loo (ensuite is just too elitist, man). Methinks this has something to do with my celebrity nurse; for all you doubting Thomases out there – boom it, here’s Beyonce´ 

To be fair, all the nurses here boom it, so we’re going to feature daily Charles’ Angels whilst an inpatient.

Went for the usual constitutional to Costa; couldn’t help noticing an abandoned gurney replete with body bag (used):

Unable to decide whether previous incumbent had:

(a) followed the light down the corridor (incorporeal)

(b) taken a sharp right to ‘Way Out’ (potentially more corporeal)

(c) done something a bit more Sean of the Dead (yes Granny, it’s those zombies again)

(d) engaged in some other outcome supported by Dynamo; Magician Impossible

(e) Hmm, of course, the ‘Way Out’ sign does not preclude entry, so there’s an outside chance the conveyance is simply waiting for recovery and egress (minus the body bag, one hopes).

So, that’s this week’s Quiz; use your observational and deductive skill and judgment to extrapolate the most likely answer (NB full reasoning must be provided). Answers by email please; as before, editor’s decision is final. No correspondence will be entered into on that one (and that means texting as well, Del.)

Day 22

So here we are back in hospital for ‘Chemo II’. It all feels a bit like Xmas the day after 12^th Night…..

Er, I know how it feels…..

As you saw yesterday, the style’s a bit more Grant Mitchell crossed with Father Christmas, but hey, there’s always the Telly Savalas option to consider:

PICC line insertion this morning went well. So there are plusses and minuses; no cannula/bruisings to look forward to, but there’s now a direct external pipe to the heart fed (via ultrasound) in through the arm, like so:

Already there’s a problem, as Tor is concerned about the ‘plug’ popping off resulting in your correspondent collapsing like a deflated lilo (not to mention the mess on the soft furnishings...….)

Memo to self: Pack some duct tape; that plug’s staying in.

Day 21 (featuring the Monday Mugshot)

The good news is that I’m now through the first quartile of my chemotherapy treatment. The bad news is that chemotherapy sucks; really, if it didn’t hold out the prospect of a ‘cure’, what they do to you and how it affects you surely has to be in violation of the Geneva Convention. But let’s not mince words here; the fight against cancer is a war, and many of the same principles therefore apply. Stock phrases in BBC and CNN bulletins from conflict zones such as ‘collateral damage’ and ‘acceptable losses’ suddenly become all too personal.

To make matters worse, there’s no ‘quick win’ here either. There’s no proportionality; unlike say, four Saturday detentions vs. six of the best, you can’t bite the bullet and select a ‘worse’ punishment to get it over quicker. This is because the only medical treatment option is the worst option. Whichever way you look at it, you’re on a one-way ticket to Ripley’s prison planet in Alien3; the psychology and hairstyling are pretty much identical; it’s just the size of the bugs that’s different.

As there have been a number of emailed ‘complaints’ about the stoic humour-in-face-of-adversity nature of this blog (mainly from other men about how the hell are they supposed to pull off a sickie with a bit of man-flu; what with all this as a reference point, hopefully the equation has been levelled somewhat. Although perhaps not entirely, as the Monday Mugshot scrolls into view…….

Day 20 – Chemotherapy Patient ‘Etiquette’ Part 4

So here we have more 'good practice' guidelines (mainly do's and dont's) based on what others have said/done/thought etc., to guide everyone through the minefield of the ‘elephant in the room’ of managing a relative, friend, associate or colleague with a critical illness.

Theme 7 – Mathematical Probability

Anxious to say something encouraging or upbeat, people say things like ‘never thought you would get it’ and ‘that’s really bad luck’…..but is it? Remember when you were a kid, you wondered ‘what you were here for’? Well, when you got a bit older you figured out it was (basically) for death & taxes, and then spent the rest of your life doing your damnedest to avoid both.

On the death front, Cancer Research UK comes up with an overall risk of developing cancer at more than 1 in 3.

http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/cancer-info/cancerstats/incidence/risk/statistics-on-the-risk-of-developing-cancer

The American Cancer Society assesses the overall risk of developing cancer at 1 in 2, and dying from cancer at 1 in 4. Interestingly, girls have a better chance, at 1 in 3 and 1 in 5 respectively:

http://www.cancer.org/cancer/cancerbasics/lifetime-probability-of-developing-or-dying-from-cancer

For sure, there are some interesting regional variations, for example the stats appear to show the Brits have slightly better stats than the Yanks; the Scots are however, in the words of their kinsman Fraser in Dad’s Army, ‘all doomed’.

Overall, the bad news for a man is that half of us will get cancer. The good news however, is that’s a 100% better probability than our chances of avoiding taxes.

Theme 8 – Logistical Support

Having a spouse with cancer turns you into a single-parent family, overnight. No, the usual school/party/pony/tennis club etc trips cannot be rescheduled at the drop of a hat as per usual with only one barrel loaded, and then there’s the multiple hospital trips (for the empty barrel) to factor in. As you can see, the minimum level is Def Con 3 and things usually only get worse from there.

So it’s good to have offers of logistical support for all of the above. For the few of you who have/may have/could still dork out on this; (a) be specific; don’t ‘blanket offer’ things and then be unable to do any of them (b) think lateral; there’s direct, indirect, vicarious, subliminal*, you name it….(c) remember that you’re the 5^th Cavalry, so no-one’s coming to your rescue if you goof up.

* Amaya’s Virgin has this one covered already.

Day 19

Pre-assessment day; meeting with ‘JB’, as Axel’s off on another gig. Yes, more cerebral occupations are more profoundly affected, but treatment options are (a) use different chemicals (which aren’t quite so effective….. er, so perhaps not then) or (b) spread the treatment cycle over 5 days instead of 3. No-one knows for sure how much chemo actually gets into the brain (due to the blood brain barrier) but the theory is that 5 days may lessen the unwelcome side-effects. 

Already there’s a problem, because that means 5 days as an in-patient; no bunking off like a day boy in mummy’s 4x4 for some home-cooked and a comfy bed. OK, so an extra 2 days of doing nothing in Ward 61? Hmmm, we agree the jury’s out on that one right now, so it’s 3 days next week, with treatment schedule to be reviewed for cycle 3.

bunking off for some home-cooked

Kurt has broken box office records with 500+ views in just 2 days on the Autotrader website. This weekend’s packed out with a lot of viewings by ladies with names ending in ‘a’ who fancy some sensibly priced vintage German engineering. Tor will be on hand in case any of the ladies in question ‘try it on’ with an inexperienced salesman with a suppressed immune system, who has already been ‘fleeced’ (yes, the bullet has been bitten on the hair issue).

Kurt's a sought-after item

OK, so the hair was becoming problematic, what with playful swipes removing unexpected chunks, and the spaniel-in-the-bed forensics (not to mention the hair mat in the shower tray a la Turkish campsite). A ‘No.1’ cut has therefore been applied, which gives the overall impression that Kurt has probably been stolen……..(but y’all have to wait for the Monday Mugshot)

Day 18

Struggling to see the upside of having cancer, Brad Pitt charges to the rescue in the form of the Hollywood blockbuster World War Z. Tor says the plot will have to be explained, otherwise Granny ‘won’t get it’.

So, there’s this worldwide Contagion type pandemic that turns everyone into zombies. The zombies swarm (like Millwall playing away at West Ham) biting people, turning them into zombies (yes Granny, zombies are big in films right now). Entire populations are turned into zombies (anyone who has ever been to Benton Park View will see where this is headed).

Benton Park View Heliport

When all appears lost, Brad notices that some people are ‘immune’ – the zombies charge past like they can’t see ‘em. This ‘immunity’ is traced to having a critical disease – it appears that zombies ‘aint stupid, and know not to attack anyone with a critical disease (in case they get it, Granny). So, a vaccine is developed using this flaw in the zombies’ world domination plan.

Brad is attacked by a load of zombies!

It’s good to know that along with the all the other inmates of Ward 61, we’re all safe from zombie attack.

Memo to Granny: No Granny, although World War Z is a sort of costume drama, it’s really not your sort of film.

Day 17

Kurt has had a wash today. With a degree of bad grace, Ed has wiped the upholstery with a pack of Dettox wipes, thereby neutralizing the potentially infectious interior, instantly providing both potential saleability plus a death-free environment for a quick trip down memory lane (well, down the farm track anyway).

Now infection free!

Checked out the selling options on ebay; which now rocks a £10 listing plus £20 sale fee; the £9.99 Autotrader option therefore appealed more.

Kurt's Autotrader Ad

Online yesterday and you wouldn’t believe the response; 300 page views and the Mitchell brothers are fighting it out with Boycie for the ‘first to see will buy’ viewing and test drive……

Medical update: The hair is starting to go. Tor gave it a tug (not the sort of tug I was looking for) to confirm, and a clump came adrift; yes, it’s on it’s way out……

Day 16

The Beeb comes up with another sensible story on the Big C:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-26189827

Anyone who remembers Fantastic Voyage or Innerspace will agree that nanotechnology has to be the way to defeat the enemy. Given the choice of either a load of noxious chemicals or a miniaturized Racquel Welch being injected into you, there’s no contest, trust me.

Not happy with Axel’s inviolate law of permanent hangovers whilst on chemotherapy, further study has revealed a definite (albeit temporary) respite:

Yes! Hair of the Dog actually does work. Only problem is that it has to be red wine (claret for best results) and you’re looking at 750ml (min) at 250ml/hr to get any benefit. Guess this is the old mathematical theory of 'two minuses equals a plus'?  Not entirely sure this sits comfortably with ‘drink responsibly’ Gubbermint guidelines, but I guess you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Memo from Aston Martin: Duh! - didn’t read the manual, so didn’t know about hydrophobic levitation function (p.173), did you? 

Day 15

Apparently everyone everywhere either has cancer, has had cancer, or knows someone who has it (or has had it). This is because everything gives you cancer, apparently. Daily Mail research proves this as a fact (so it must be true).

 For anyone remotely intelligent, this is of course total tosh. Why people read this foul rag (for any reason other than study of S.2 Mental Health Act 1983) is a mystery.

Blog stats reveal a surprise readership of this column in the Caribbean. OK, perhaps not quite such a surprise, as my old mum is currently in Barbados. Here she is (second from right) going for her morning septuagenarian stroll with some like-minded ladies; a la Slimcea commercial from the 1970’s (minus the hot air balloon).

Treatment schedule letter arrives from the hospital; need to pitch up on Friday for pre-assessment, as cycle 2 begins next Tuesday. Ward 61 beckons; the click-click-click of chemo pump starts to add percussion to the omnipresent tinnitus…….

Memo to self: remember to pack earplugs and a mini screwdriver (fuse-removing variety, for the machine that goes ping)

Day 14 (featuring the Monday Mugshot)

The very difficult and painful decision has been made regarding Kurt. He has to go. 

Kurt is a vintage Audi Cabriolet, acquired via ebay from a plumber in Redditch (and apparently used to squire various housewives of that fine metropolis out-of-hours, when the Ford Transit simply wouldn’t impress at the local Harvester).

For the last couple of years Kurt has been teaching Liv and Ed to drive, so they’re well ready to be let loose on the general public in April. The warm/wet winter has however not been kind to him, as he’s developed a bad case of bacterial/fungal growth on his leather upholstery.

Tor suspects that this growth may have something to do with Kurt’s previous usage in Redditch, and has decreed his current environment unsuitable for a man with a suppressed immune system at high risk of developing neutropenic sepsis.

Tor says Kurt must either be donated to the chemical weapons facility at Porton Down, or else put back on ebay (with no reserve). So there you have it. Friends & family get first dibs, so if you’re interested, email me sometime this week or it’s going online to the highest bidder this weekend:

* 1997 Audi 80 Cabriolet (UK registered, with illegal US plates)

* Metallic blue (OK, with some hand painted black, a few stencilly bits…)

* No tax, or MOT. Roof doesn’t work terribly well. Other functionality variable.

* Starts and drives OK (NBC suit recommended)

With all this excitement, nearly forgot the Monday Mugshot……

Day 13 – Chemotherapy Patient ‘Etiquette’ Part 3

So here we have more 'good practice' guidelines (mainly do's and dont's) based on what others have said/done/thought etc., to guide everyone through the minefield of the ‘elephant in the room’ of managing a relative, friend, associate or colleague with a critical illness.

Theme 5 - Friendship

Not that I particularly recommend it as a purely qualitative tool, there’s nothing quite like cancer diagnosis & treatment to bring out the best in people. Work colleagues have (without exception) been fantastic, and Tor’s had massive support (yes St. Serena, Lady S and the Duchess of Bibury, I mean you!).

Remember when you were a kid at school? – remember the boys beating the sh*t out of each other in the playground were very often best buddies? Here’s an adult version on the same theme from Derek (bless ‘im) in recognition of my recent surgery, and in homage to an old prep school ditty about a certain dictator who was also reputed to only have one (the other being in the Albert Hall, apparently).

Theme 6 – What to/what not to say

Most of you have just said exactly the right thing at the right time; it’s not hard, really it’s not. Just because it’s cancer doesn’t mean you have to treat it differently to say, a heart condition; both are ‘critical’ illnesses requiring pretty grim surgery and treatment in order to survive. So “How are you feeling?” is perfectly acceptable (NB but not from a telephone sales cold-call as a ‘break the ice’ intro.)

What I don’t particularly recommend is medical condition competitiveness, such as: “I had a really nasty fungal infection on my big toe last year and went to hospital so I know how you’re feeling.”  As you can see, this sort of response needs work.

For the few of you who have/may have/could still dork out on this; (a) cancer is not ‘contagious’ (b) one in three of you will get some form of cancer (c) thank God/Darwin/Dawkins it’s not you, and then think of something pleasant to say.

Day 12 – St Valentine’s Day Brain Massacre

Tor puts in an epic return Heathrow trip for Liv, making it back home by 09.30 to take me to clinic, as there’s no way I can drive with such chronic back pain. Oncologist Axel is a dude – he looks like a smartened-up version of the Guns ‘n Roses frontman too. Axel listens patiently to the extended litany of woe; omnipresent hangover, tinnitus, creeping numbness of hands and face, ‘sunburned inside’, fatigue coupled with inability to sleep, and now crippling back pain….

Oncology Rocks?

We talk work, and Axel is entirely unsurprised that higher level cognitive functioning is reported as deficient; both processing capability (as illustrated by the Wechsler WAIS-IV (IQ) score) and slower capacity (factorial 5 down to 3). In short, ‘Chemo Brain’; it’s a new harsh fact of life for anyone on chemotherapy, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it. What’s particularly cruel is that anyone with a more cerebral job is disproportionately affected. Axel suggests that it would probably be better not to work for 6 months or so. So there’s the triple whammy: cancer + chemotherapy = unable to work. I am presented with a Macmillan cancer guide to ‘benefits’ (none of which I qualify for, being native educated ABC1 English with a work ethic and little time for the Little Britain we have become). Tor says things should be looked at as an opportunity, not a problem; therefore consider guest writing for The Daily Mail.....

The Vitamin C injections are discussed, and things are not exactly what they initially seemed (blog traffic stats indicate a good deal of interest in this topic from both the US and Germany). Tor has sourced some 1200mg Vit C gel pouches and Axel is told that these will be used in lieu of previously requested injections. Axel ain’t happy. Although there has been no decent clinical trial as yet, there is the possibility that such high Vit C dosage might decrease the effectiveness of the EP/CP chemotherapy; in short, it makes you feel better by decreasing the (desired) onslaught of the bad guys. Hmmmm…..

Decide to leave the Vit C until post-chemo recovery phase. Axel looks pleased, although he empathises the other symptoms just ‘go with the territory’. Back pain is traced to muscular origin (not kidneys) as a result of more time in bed. Paracetamol is considered, but rejected as blood count is checked (and is too low), with consequent risk of fever/neutrogenic sepsis (which parcetamol will mask). Ibuprofen is suggested for the back, and Zopiclone is prescribed for better sleeping….. but that’s it on the ‘management of side-effects’ front.

Memo to Daily Mail: Really? I knew your paper was bad, but......