Family Business

I thought I'd use the book cover this week as the title image, two reasons. Firstly the book has sold 5 copies this week, and secondly the photo shows the three people closest to my heart. 

I’d like to start this brief update with a heartfelt thank you for all the good wishes we’ve received over the past 5 days be it over FB or via private messages. I hated having to post up the blog last week, but I was conscious that Social Media is the best way of informing friends far and wide about matters of importance, births, deaths, marriages and cancer having another go. There were a couple of messages which weren’t quite so supportive, but I can understand the sentiment behind them. Delete and block and move on. The positive messages are the ones we’ve concentrated on. Two specific messages with a connected thread specifically spring to mind. I’d mentioned that it’s unlikely I’ll be able to get to the Fat Boys 7s in the summer. Well, I may not be going, but I’ll be proudly wearing a Camel Jockeys shirt after the event (so long as Errant Son doesn’t pinch it) courtesy of Coco!

 Also, the Abbey Nuns (Abbey RFC Ladies side) have offered to do a bucket collection for Berkshire Cancer Centre over the weekend.

 My treatment was running somewhere around the £15k mark, I suspect that will increase considerably over the next few months. So if you’re at the FB7s and see someone rattling a bucket please put whatever you can in it.

The blog has just under 8,000 hits between Sunday and Tuesday, by far the largest weekly hit so far, I think a fair few have come via the Peter and Jane blog postings, and getting supportive messages from total strangers is truly humbling. (I am a social media tart!) The main point of the blog though is to try and raise awareness to cancers. The message at day one was if you’ve a nagging cough or a body change that goes on for more than a couple of weeks then go and get it looked at by your GP. Cancers that are spotted early can be treated and cured. That message hasn’t changed in the last 18 months.

A number of people have offered to help Carol out when she’s having to drag to and from Oxford for 10 days or so. That has been on my mind a lot, as whilst it’s not that far, it’s still probably a two hour round trip, and Oxford traffic can be a total pain at times. Luckily she’ll be able to buy a long term visitors car parking permit which whilst not giving any priority on parking does at least mean she won’t have to pay the heavy hourly charges.

Waking up on Tuesday morning to the news coming out of Manchester put any problems I may have into perspective. 22 people won’t be going home again. I spend quite a bit of time in Manchester with work when I’m well enough. We have an office on Deansgate, albeit the other end from the MEN Arena. I’ve walked past the venue on numerous occasions, drank in pubs almost next door to the place. Manchester is a great City, the bars around the Law Courts are good, old fashioned “Proper Pubs”, and the people have always been friendly, even to a Southern accented Yorkshire man.

You may remember if you’ve read this blog in the past that I’ve done a couple of bits and pieces with Macmillan since I was diagnosed back in 2015. I was contacted by the person I’ve been speaking to a couple of weeks ago, (Hello Becky, hope Bruges was fun!) to ask if I’d help out with a new campaign they’re running from 30^th May. I can’t tell you the details as it’s under an embargo until then, but even with my current diagnosis I’m more than happy to help them out any way I can, so watch this space. I told Becky my latest news and she kindly pointed me in the right direction on the Macmillan site for the procedures I’m going to go through. I spent a fair amount of time last weekend trawling the site and soaking up as much information as I could. I vividly remember Jo telling me in 2015 that under no circumstances should I Google “Throat Cancer” and instead I should go straight to the Macmillan site, without passing go and without picking up £200. Whilst the descriptions of the procedure leave little to the imagination, they are at least realistic and encouraging for the long term. Updates will appear on my Instagram and Twitter feeds as from Tuesday - Instagram is paulmaxwellclark and Twitter is @Nobby1962

On Thursday Carol and I had our first joint visit to Churchill Hospital in Oxford. My appointment was at 3.40pm, but we’d been advised it can take up to an hour to get parked so we left Reading at 1.50pm, arrived at 2.40pm and were parked after only 10 minutes of queuing, so perhaps the good omens are with us on this one. The Head and Neck Unit in the Churchill is far more modern than the ENT at RBH. There’s also a decent free WiFi signal in the hospital which no doubt I’ll abuse in the weeks to come.

We were called through only 10 minutes late, but left to wait in the Dr’s room for over 40 minutes before she eventually showed up, not an impressive start. However first impressions don’t always count for much. I won’t be seeing Scary, Mr More Scary then Scary or Cool Dude now for quite some time, so I’m going to have to come up with new names for the team looking after me this time, at the moment the jury is out, but rest assured the names will eventually come.

Once the Surgeon arrived she brought with her the Dietician, Speech Therapist and my new CNS Nurse, I’ve got to say that I’m hugely impressed by this team. They asked about my history of cancer, both the initial hit and the recent past, they listened to my croakings and they understood what we’ve been going through. I was hoping not to have another “Up the nose, down the throat” procedure, but I was sadly disappointed. The Surgeon asked if I normally had an anaesthetic and my reply was “Only when Scary does it, opps I meant Dr F, as she admits herself that she’s crap at it”, well that broke the ice to a degree. The head honcho joined us at this point, I swear there were more people in the room than at a Bracknell RFC 1^st XV home match……… I’ve mentioned in the past that this is the one procedure I’ve really struggled to get used to and this one was no different as it went on for around five minutes, and my throat is still raw from the biopsies last week. They had discussed prior to sticking the camera up that there was a possibility of me only needing a partial removal of the voice box, unfortunately the scope confirmed that a full removal will be necessary in my case. Many, many discussions then took place about what they’ll do, how they’ll do it, and what it’ll mean to me as far as recovery goes. I was given the option of meeting someone who’s been through the procedure to talk about their experiences, but I’m afraid things are just too raw to go through that at the moment. At the end of the day, it’s got to be done, so I’ll face the consequences when I wake up. I’m slightly disappointed that I’ll have to wait for between 4 and 6 weeks to have the operation as part of me hoped that it would be scheduled for next week. But at least this means that Max will get this A Levels out of the way before I go under the knife. He had his first exam today, and I know that with the work he’s put in that he’ll smash them.

The speech therapist spent a good half hour with Carol and I after the surgeons had left running through the procedure to get me talking again. She’s one cheerful bunny, and someone I reckon I can work with without any problems at all. Probably just as well as I’ve no real choice in the matter.

After around 90 minutes we were allowed to escape to the rush hour bedlam that is the Oxford ring road. Next up will be pre-op assessments, ECG’s, blood tests, more dietician meetings, etc, etc…… then the knife. My current weight is a cause of concern as I’ve dropped to just over 75kg’s, however I’ve now been prescribed the magic Ensure drinks that worked so well for me last time. Three of those a day, plus my normal diet should at least abate the weight loss and maybe even add a few kg’s to the bones I’m rattling about in at the moment. From what I can gather I’ll probably be in for somewhere over 2 weeks. The internal stitching isn’t checked for around 10 days and until they confirm that I’m water tight I can’t even start to learn to speak or to eat without a tube.

I know the NHS comes in for a real bashing these days, but within 24 hours of my appointment at Oxford I managed to get to see my GP who’s prescribed all I’ll need to get me through until the operation takes place. Ensures, Morphine and laxatives, what more could a man ask for. “Psst….. wanna buy any drugs?”

The delay in the operation means that I may actually get to do a bit more photography than I’d envisaged. I’m starting this weekend by going down to the Bournemouth 7s to shoot the Badgers 7s side as promised a number of months ago.

 The forecast is looking ok and I intend to go out with a bang as far as the photography goes. It should be a cracking weekend.

I’d initially thought that this blog update would be of epic proportions, loads going on, loads to write about. However I’ve really struggled this week to come up with anything to say. Sleep at the moment is a luxury (for both Carol and me), I’m struggling to concentrate on anything as my mind keeps slipping back to what’s ahead of us in the next few months. The writing juices just weren’t flowing. I must be feeling down, I can’t even think of any decent song titles to put in.

The week ended on a bit of a high note as I was messing about with Twitter and found that Katie Hopkins had been sacked from her job on LBC.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued…………

#Shoulder2Shoulder

STALKING ON SUNSHINE

(Or, The Last Days of Summer)

This is a fairly long update as the last couple of weeks have been fun filled and action packed. If you don’t like reading about other people’s holiday experiences then just jump to “The Main Course”. 

ENTREE – Here Comes the Sun……..

  

What a wonderful week we had in Fuerteventura. The weather was perfect, not too hot and not too windy. Food great, wine plentiful and to cap it all we hired bikes to cycle to the dunes instead of catching the free bus from the hotel. A bit of exercise daily helped to negate the calories we were piling into ourselves each night, well that’s the excuse we gave ourselves. The hotel we stayed at was lovely, only a couple of teething problems with the hot tub in our room. Firstly it filled up with gunk and then the next day the plug wouldn’t work, however the friendly maintenance men soon sorted out the problem so that we could enjoy our evening soak whilst knocking back a cold one.

We now know how many Spaniards it takes to mend a Hot Tub – Juan (thanks to Stuart Walker for that one!)

The average day started with me cycling off to watch the sunrise and then to  PJ’s Coffee and Ice Cream bar for the morning cappuccino and a spot of people watching.

 Then it would be back to the hotel to see if Snorey McSnoreface had morphed back into my wonderful wife. The breakfast buffet had to be seen to be believed, I reckon Max could probably have spent a couple of hours stocking up on fuel for the day. I usually settled for some version of the full English, albeit no black pudding available. You could choose from breads, fruits, strange German food, flat Dutch food and myriad of other choices, including a glass of Cava to start the day off with a fizz.  The cycling to the dunes each day was much easier than we envisaged, mainly due to the fact that there was a beautifully smooth cycle path for all bar about 100m of the route. Pushing the bikes over the soft sand to the stone circles was an effort, but the views, privacy and wonderful beach made that effort worthwhile. Most days we got down to the beach around 9.30am, found an empty stone circle,

soaked up the rays until early afternoon and then made our way back for lunch, either in the hotel pool bar, or a tapas bar. The hotel pool bar served reasonably priced food of a decent quality, the downside was the music system which consisted of four songs. Now I used to really like Four Non Blondes song “What’s Up?” but hearing on a loop over 90 minutes has just killed it for me. Even worse, one of the other songs on the loop was Amply Fed, opp’s I meant Simply Red, enough to make me not order another cold one! Our afternoons were usually taken up with Carol spending time in the “Wellness Centre”, basically a posh name for a rather nice spa that was situated on site. I went into the Spa once during our stay, it’s not really my sort of thing. I see it as just 17 different ways to get wet. The time I did venture in Carol and I did a bit of a circuit which ended up with us going into the steam room, only to be confronted with a rather large gentlemen snoring on the bench, stark naked and clutching a rather small version of a willy!!! So instead of a daily dose of willy watching I started to explore the area around Corralejo on the bike, doing around 10k per ride, again generally speaking on smooth and safe cycle paths. The downside was that by the end of the week my arse was rather sore from the exercise, the upside is I felt fitter in my body. Afternoon kips followed, then it was time for a rather nice glass of white on the terrace before going to dinner. After dinner it was invariably a walk into town to visit Rock Island Bar which had different acts on each evening playing acoustic rock music in a really laid back atmosphere. 

I’m not sure if it was the heat or dryness of the atmosphere, but my throat was pretty sore for most of the week and voice became painfully weak. It was again a case of me avoiding situations where I had to converse if at all possible. I know people mean well, but by the time the fifth person of the days has asked if I’d overdone it the previous night, then my resolve to be polite had buggered off and the answer “Nope, I’ve had throat cancer” was possibly a tad blunt. The poor Thomas Cook rep looked mortified and avoided me for the rest of the week.

Whilst we were away I posted daily #Stalker photos of Carol to my Facebook page, I can’t quite remember when the #Stalker thing started, but it’s a bit of fun and usually involves Carol having a drink in her hands. This year’s quote of the holiday came from my lovely wife when she came out with this classic – “I’m not really very good at drinking during the daytime.” Hmm….. methinks the photo's I posted proved different. 

We were staying on a half board package at the hotel. Evening dinner was a buffet style with a different theme each evening, it was much better than it sounds, honest ‘guv. The lovely young lady on reception at the dining room recognised us from last September which was nice as we had generally keep ourselves to ourselves. The one night we did venture out into town was on the Mexican themed evening, neither of us are really fans of that genre of food. So off into town we trotted to eat at a seafood restaurant we’d used three times last year, and loved it. Oh was a disappointment, the food at best was “Ok” but the service was a disgrace. Incorrect dishes brought out and the waiter arguing it was our order, main course was small and hardly as described. We waited over 30 minutes to be offered the desert menu with no success, so we paid the bill, which wasn’t cheap, and left a Euro 1 tip hoping they’d take the hint. I mentioned this on a Corraljo FB forum to be castigated for not leaving a decent tip as the waiters are so poorly paid. Well if they’d offered decent service, they’d have got a decent tip. Needless to say we didn’t go back during our stay.

Our flights to and from were fairly painless, unless to count the gate fiasco at Gatwick on the way out. We were home and tucked up in bed by 2.30am on Sunday and as usual I was back up at 7am wide awake! An afternoon watching Berkshire Ladies defeat Dorset Ladies 19-13 helped to wipe away the withdrawal symptoms I’d been suffering from by not using my DSLR at all on holiday, pretty pleased with the shots.

 Whilst we were away the Rams Sirens made their full 15-a-side debut against a team from Bracknell. By all accounts it was a cracking match by both sides with the Sirens ending up as winners. Hopefully, within the next couple of seasons we’ll get to see some Sirens in the County squad too.

So that’s the entrée completed, now I guess onto the main course of the week.

THE MAIN COURSE – Hello Cancer My Old Friend, Its Good To Fight With You Again.

At midday on Tuesday I rocked up to Dorrell Ward at RBH, having first bumped into Jo, my original CNS Nurse. She’s now working on a separate research project on Thursdays so it’s unlikely I’ll see her again in the clinics, which is a shame. During the very dark days of early 2016 Jo was so kind to Carol and I when we didn’t know what to do, her steady head helped us through that first battle. After waiting for an hour or so I got to see a nurse who checked my details to make sure I was the right person. She asked for my Next of Kin’s contact number, now I don’t know about you, but I can’t recall numbers these days, so I whipped out my phone and scrolled down to Carol’s details. As my voice is shagged the nurse took the phone to copy down the number for her records. It was only when she handed the phone back that I noticed I’d got a rather “Saucy” photo of Carol on her contact details, nothing pornographic, but perhaps not what you should be showing a young nurse. Next up it was a pre-op meeting with Cool Dude. I’m afraid it wasn’t great news. The PET Scan undertaken a couple of weeks ago had shown a bright area around the same place that my original cancer was, that and the fact that my voice is fucked were not good signs. He went on to explain that he’d undertake a couple of biopsies and would get them processed quickly so that I could get the results on Thursday at my next follow up meeting. My head was in a bit of a spin, secretly I’d thought that the bastard was back, you get to know how your body should feel and mine hasn’t felt right for some time. The encouraging news is that Cool Dude reckons I’m worth having another crack at saving, albeit this time, there is no option of RT.  Carol and I had a brief chat and agreed that there was no point in telling Anna or Max the prognosis until we’re actually sure and we can also let them know the plan of action to batter the little sod again. I awoke on Dorrell after the procedure with a throat like sandpaper and a raging thirst. Water solved the later, corned beef sandwich didn’t nothing for the former. Once I’d eaten something, had a drink and a wee and proved I wasn’t a blithering idiot I was allowed to go home. By 8.00pm it was feet up on the sofa slurping down tomato soup with cheesy croutons, whilst watching some comedy French man and a very strange Oriental women judging a cake baking competition. I think the drugs were working overtime as I can’t believe that program is real.

Sleep just didn’t happen on Tuesday night. I took a swig of morphine as my throat was pretty sore and that would usually send me off to sleep with no problems at all. Guess I had something on my mind.

Wednesday passed in a daze. I was still feeling a bit rough due to the after effects of the GA and sod all sleep the previous night. It also chucked it down all day, so a morning on the sofa catching up on the Netflix shows I missed whilst we were away seemed in order. Then an afternoon in bed catching up on the sleep I missed last night seemed like a good idea too. I was due to attend the Youth AGM at Rams on Wednesday evening, I’ve stood down as Youth Fixtures Secretary, so after 12 years I’ve finally got no official capacity at the club, other than photographer. I was just feeling too tired to attend the meeting. Also the notes from the hospital suggested that driving should be avoided for 48 hours, as should making any life changing decisions…… like standing for Youth Chairman at the AGM J

Thursday was one of those days that when you wake up you’d wished you’d given a wide berth to and jumped straight to Friday. My appointment at the hospital wasn’t until 3.15pm, but I drove in at 11.30am, circled the car park four times and eventually found a space. Parked up and walked into town for a calming cup of coffee. As is now becoming traditional when I’m in town in midweek I bumped into a very good friend who’s also a very wise council, quick chat and then it’s off to the RBH. Jason, if you’re reading this you’ve been an inspiration to me for a number of years, your positive attitude is something I aspire to. Carol and I eventually got to see Cool Dude and the new CNS Nurse, Annabel at 4.20, by this time my nerves were shot to pieces. The news, as expected, wasn’t great. It would appear that my original cancer wasn’t zapped to buggery by the RT and Chemo back in January and February 2016. The little bastard has been hiding away with a view to having another go at me. This goes someway to explaining why my throat swelling has never really gone down and my voice hasn’t improved. However, we have a cunning plan to get rid of the little sod once and for all, a plan so cunning that you could pin a tail on it and call it a weasel. It basically involves cutting out my voice box and getting rid of the errant cancer once and for all. Now when your surgeon tells you that the only option is to cut out your voice box you naturally think, “Fuck, how am I going to be able to speak?” Well, apparently you can, after a certain amount of heavy duty Speech Therapy. The good thing about having throat cancer is that the cartilage surrounding the throat is thick and the cancer cells have a struggle to break through, hence the positive that it hasn’t managed to spread elsewhere in my body.

So, the plan is I’ll go under the knife, probably sometime in June. I’ll be in hospital for a couple of weeks and probably off work for a couple of months. The procedure is called a Laryngectomy and is fairly invasive, however Chemo and RT are now not an option. I’ll have a stoma fitted which is basically a hole in my throat to allow me to breath, eat and live. There will be various options open to me to disguise / hide the stoma, however I’m not exactly known as a vain person, so it’s more likely to be a case of “Call that a scar? Have a look at this!” It won’t be pleasant, but it’s surgery so hopefully I won’t have the horrible after effects I had last time with RT and Chemo. My voice should, in time, improve beyond its current state. The PET Scan has shown that there are no new cancers in my body and that it’s just the original one that has returned. I will survive.

Carol and I were both very emotional at the hospital, but Annabel was brilliant, there was no hurry for us to leave and she was happy to answer any stupid questions we could come up with. I mailed her on Friday morning, with probably the most stupid question I’ve ever come up with, and there have been a few candidates. “What are the options if I choose not to have the surgery?” Her answer was direct and to the point, the options aren’t worth considering, so under the knife it’ll be!!

Leaving the hospital was a major challenge, no idea what was going on, but it took nearly an hour to get out of the car park, then another 30 minutes to get home. Carol arrived before I did and broke the news to Max. He was a total and utter rock on the outside, so proud of the way he’s handled this, especially with his exams looming. Next up was to contact Anna who’s currently sunning herself in Lanzarote after finishing her degree. It was a horrible call to have to make, but after explaining the options and the prognosis she understands, and will no doubt have gone out and knocked back a few large V ‘n T’s. Anna has come up with my new nick name “Holey McHoleFace”…….

DESERT – (Then came) The last days of May.

Now the downsides. The surgery, consultations etc will all take place at Churchill Hospital in Oxford. This is going to be a real challenge as I’ll be in for at least ten day and possibly two weeks. The pressure that this will put on Carol and the kids to visit will be horrible. My first appointment is on Thursday afternoon when I’ll meet the surgeon and team who’ll be carrying out the operation and recovery. I’ve also been given the option to meet up with someone who’s already had the procedure to get there take on things, I’m not sure yet if I want to do that or not. It’s likely that for the first few days following surgery that I’ll be fed via a tube. I’m not going to go into the full details of what the surgery entails here as I’m not 100% sure myself at the moment. I’ve an appointment next Thursday to go through all the in’s and out’s so will no more following that meeting. I do know that I’ll keep writing, even though initially the only way I’ll be able to communicate it via a pad and pen……. “Yes nurse, I would like to go to the toilet” will be a prewritten request.  I’m going to buy a laptop so that I can blog from my hospital bed if I’m well enough, so there will be no escaping my inane ramblings.

I’ve deliberately not posted this blog until now as I didn’t want to distract from the Rams End of Season Ball which was held on Saturday night. It’s always a special night for the club, a night where we get to celebrate the success of the season. Last season Max was awarded the Paul Frost / Mark Hutchinson Young Player of the Year award, as far as I’m aware he was the first Colts player to get it, an extremely proud evening for the entire Clark clan who were there to see it presented to him.

 As any regular reader of this blog will be aware, Rams mean a hell of a lot to us as a family, or to coin a phrase from Matt Maxwell, a Ramily. I hope that I’ll still be in a position where I can take photo’s next season and some of the upcoming 7s Season, but it’s likely I’ll have to miss my first Fat Boys 7s for a number of years. It was the usual cracking evening.

I’d really hoped that I would never have to write another update like this, but the prognosis is good, albeit the immediate future is going to be a challenge, a challenge we’ll take on the chin, rise above, get beyond and come out of the other side stronger, and cancer free.

To Carol, Anna and Max, I’m so sorry to put you all through the wringer again, but you’re the strongest guys I know so with a few tears, lots of hugs and numerous cups of tea we’ll see the other side. And you never know, I may write another book, so behave or I’ll make up more stories about you all!

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued…………

#Shoulder2Shoulder.

Where beggars take cheques, and children take credit cards –

THE COMPANY

Well, a few weeks since my last blogging attempt, and it’s been a busy time. The end of April is always a bittersweet time for anyone involved in local rugby. For some it means a few months off to recharge their batteries, for others it means trying to find something else to do at the weekends that doesn’t involve all those gardening or DIY projects you’d promised to get done in the closed season. When I was still heavily involved with the Youth section at Rams I’d find that by around about the beginning of March I’d be “Rugby’d Out” and couldn’t wait for the season to end. Invariably by the end of May I’d be chomping at the bit to get back underway. Nowadays I’m a bit more sanguine about the whole thing. I’ve finished my stint on the camera for the 15 a side season with a trip down to Taunton to watch Rams take on host side. They lost 33-32 in what was a cracking match, and I was pretty pleased with the photo’s I took on the day. It’s interesting to see that the shots that get the most “Likes” are usually those of “People” rather than action, but this shot is probably the best I’ve produced this season –

 

The summer will be spent at various 7s Festivals around the South shooting the Badgers and other teams. Last weekend my Facebook timeline was filled largely of posts from folk at the club who’s gone down to Brean Sands for the annual end of season tournament at Burnham on Sea Rugby Club. We did that four times with Max and Anna, and only had the misfortune to stay at the Pontins resort the one time. I think someone who’d been in the armed forces summed up the accommodation really well “It was better in Helmand”. The one time we did stay there Carol filled the bathtub for a soak, did whatever a woman does in the bath, pulled the plug out and the bathroom floor promptly flooded! Oh how we laughed. The other abiding memories were that you couldn’t open the fridge if the sofa bed was unfolded, and if you threw bread up onto the flat roofs of the cells, opp’s cabins, then the seagulls made a hell of a racket coming down at dawn to get their prizes. I’ll skip over the bit about two coaches who decided it would be a good idea to do the Zip Wire, one in baggy Y fronts, the other wearing just a Mankini, my eyes still haven’t recovered.

The chat, friendship, memories, banter and general support from the rugby community is one of the things that makes the game great.  

One of my tasks that I’ve set myself for the summer is to set up my own photography website and move away from the Facebook platform as Hi Res pictures don’t really show up as well as they should on FB. Any advice on hosting platforms that offer high storage and don’t cost a fortune would be appreciated. I’m hoping to use www.s2sphotography.co.uk or something along those lines, watch this space.

Friday 28^th April was quite an emotional day for me. It was one year since I’d been in remission. That’s the good news, the slightly not so good news is that my voice is barely a croak at the moment. I really hope that the procedure I’m having in the middle of May will identify what’s causing the problem and give Mr More Scary an idea of how it can be treated. I met with Martine, the pre-op assessment nurse last week to run through the questions ahead of my op. She’s a lovely girl who’s now seen me three times ahead of various op’s over the last 18 months. The only problem we have is that she’s slightly deaf and I’m almost mute, so it makes for an interesting meeting. We always end the same way to “Nice to see you again, hope we don’t meet again”. On Wednesday I dragged up to Churchill Hospital in Oxford at an unearthly hour for an 8am appointment. Previous experience had shown that parking is a challenge to say the least so I rocked up at 7am and found an empty car park. Nil by mouth from the previous night was the orders so an early appointment made things slightly easier on the stomach. The service was outstanding, I was in with a cannula fitted by 7.45, on the machine by 9.30 and home by 11.30, munching on a bacon sandwich and having my first coffee of the day. The PET Scan process is totally painless, you just have to lie still for the 40 minutes or so the machine takes to scan your body. The most unpleasant part was having an itch on my nose from minute one of the scan and as my arms and head were in restraints there was nothing I could do about it. Give me waterboarding any day! I should get the results when I see Mr More Scary on 18^th May after the next biopsy.

We’re just about packed and ready to go off on our hols tomorrow. The lap top is off, out of office is on and I’ve whispered a message on my voice mail. Seven night at the Barcello Beach Hotel in Fuerteventura awaits.

 

It’s the same place we went to last year in September, a bit of luxury pampering which is much needed, as much by Carol as me. The NHS will miss her total commitment if she retires in September, they’re taking the piss out of her goodwill at the moment I’m afraid. So a week of beach, pool, food and drink should help recharge the batteries. Expect to see a number of #stalker pictures on my Facebook page throughout the week.

Carol played a blinder when I mentioned the #stalker pictures to her last week. She insisted she’d need new outfits for the photo’s, so off to Reading we went on Bank Holiday Monday. Primark has got to be one of the most depressing places on earth, probably worse than Ikea. Mind you I did manage to pick up two t-shirts for £2.00 each that I can wreck on the beach with the sun cream I’ll need to liberally coat myself in. Part of me is sad to be missing the Players End of Season presentations on Saturday. Max is playing in a match beforehand and then attending the dinner. I suspect he’ll be “Initiated” as a new player for the Mighty Cents, so perhaps it’s just as well I won’t be there, and at least he’s got a week to get over his hangover before we return.

I think this is the first time we’ve left Max to his own devices at home whilst we’ve been away for any length of time. If any of his mates happen to read this, THERE IS NO PARTY AT OUR HOUSE. Anna is still up in Lincoln and taking her final exams. We’ll not have to drag up their again to pick her up as she’s bought herself her first car, a snazzy little Citroen C3 by all accounts. So our next visit to Lincoln will be in September to see her graduate. Proud dad time I suspect.

The next update will be after I’ve had my biopsy and meeting with the hospital. Hopefully it’ll be a case of its Saul Goodman 

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued…..

#Shoulder2Shoulder