The Toxic Twins

We arrived at the Churchill at our appointed time on Sunday to be told there was no bed on the ward for me! Not the start I wanted on what was already an emotional and stressful day. ½ hour of waiting produced a bed, albeit on a different ward, needs must. I was eventually settled in and visited by my surgeon who produced the consent form for me to sign. She ran through the form in great detail, what was going to happen, when it would happen and maybe it wouldn’t happen (??). Then she got to the part about the risks. This seemed to cover every eventuality from a slightly sore throat all the way through to death! Didn’t seem a lot of point in not signing it when she put it like that. I was given a nicely curled up ham sandwich at about 5pm and then another at 8pm, that was the total of my sustenance and my last solid food for some considerable time.

The night’s sleep didn’t really pan out as the one other person on the ward snored like Snorey McSnore Face, so it as a combination of listening to my iPod and reading my Kindle that eventually bought a couple hours of sleep.

I was “Nil by Mouth” from 6am on Monday morning, but wasn’t actually taken into theatre until nearly 8am, patched, worried, scared and alone.

My next vague memory is waking up around 7pm on ITU and feeling like crap! Carol and Max were there, but I don’t really recall seeing them. Apparently I had another reaction to the GA, so the team called RBH who commented, “Don’t worry, he always does that”…… I also vaguely remember shivering so hard that I think I was wrapped up in a heat blanket until I’d settled down.

My time on ITU wasn’t overly pleasant I’m afraid. Very little information was given to me and whilst being treated to a bed bath by two (I think) Thai nurses, they insisted in talking to each other in their native language after they’d finished washing me down, this really upset me and obviously I wasn’t able to ask them to please speak in English. No happy ending for me.

At around midday on Tuesday I was eventually moved to my home for the next couple of weeks, Blenheim Ward. I’m in a cubicle with another chap who’s had a similar treatment to me, but he seems to love using the Nurse Call button, preferably every 30 minutes or so during my first night in his company. He also thought it a bright idea to boot up his laptop and play a film on Netflix, without headphones, at 5am!!! Luckily the nurses got to him before I could tie a knot in his catheter tube.

I looked in the mirror for the first time on Tuesday morning, hmmmmm…… not sure exactly what I expected, but by god that’s one hell of a scar. 

I had the first new characters for a while, I was going to call them the Toxic Twins, in a manner of admiration rather than anything else. There are a pair of nurses on the ward who make a great double act and were looking after me for a couple of days. The original Toxic Twins are Steven Tyler and Joe Perry of Aerosmith, they earnt their nickname by snorting most of Columbia as far as I can gather. However after having roughly three hours sleep on Wednesday night due to my roommate being rather ill I’m not going to give nurses any glib names at all. The chap has had roughly the same surgery as me, but isn’t coping as well. He uses the nurse call button at a drop of a hat, in fact once I called them for him as he was banging on his bed in frustration having lost his call button. The nurses treated him with all the care and respect you’d expect, even when faced with a degree of (limited) aggression on his part. They sat down, they talked to him, they calmed him down, they made sure he was in as comfortable position as possible. All in a nights work, there’s no way these people are Toxic, they’re bloody brilliant and deserve much, much more than they’re currently getting. However the title remains, it’s a good excuse to post a pic of Tyler and Perry in their pomp.

Hopefully “Roomie” will be moved to a single room later on during his stay, he needs it more than I do, and whilst I’d quite like the peace and quiet, my turn will come later in my stay.

I thought I’d give you an idea of how interesting it is being stuck in hospital, here’s the first few messages / questions I wrote down on my pad to show the nurses or Carol :

·         Am I breathing without help? (Nurse) Answer – “Yes!”

·         Feel Knackered (Carol)

·         Neck stiff, and need to use my hand to lift my head (Carol)

·         Can I stand up? (Nurse) Answer – “If you could stand before the Op. you can stand now!”

·         Sorry, just a bit emotional (Nurse, when I started crying for no other reason than I can!)

·         Can you bring in my laptop please (Carol)

·         Do you know if they’ve got rid of all the cancer? (Nurse) Answer – “The bits have been sent to the lab, we’ll know in 14 days.”

·         Do I get wine with dinner? (Nurse) Answer – “Funny man” (Well I think that’s what she said, it could have been prat!)

·         Any idiot can pass an exam, competency is FAR more important (to one of the nurses who’s a student and a bloody good one at that!)

So you can see my first couple of days have been fun packed and stimulating. At least the free WiFi is pretty good.

Thursday, despite the lack of sleep seemed to start off quite well. I saw my surgeon who was very happy with the progress I’ve made so far. She removed the stiches from my throat tube and took it out it I was able to see what they’d done. It was quite emotional seeing up and down into my throat, and a couple of tears escaped again. Then things went a bit downhill for the morning. My nurse showed me how to replace the stoma and make sure its fitted correctly. It was a really strange feeling and made me cough quite badly, bringing up rather unpleasant “lumps”, let’s leave it at that. The rest of the morning was spent trying to settle my chest down and making sure I didn’t cover the stoma with my fetching gown, you suffocate if you do that! Eventually I seem to have got the hang of it, it’s not overly unpleasant after a while, maybe I’ll stick a Youtube video up demonstrating how to insert a stoma where the sun don’t shine.

The physio has been to see me and once my neck drains are removed I’ll be given some exercises to strengthen the muscles, at the moment if I want to lift my head when I’m lying down I physically need to lift it up. She’s also shown me the “Route” which is a lap around the first floor of the hospital, takes about 10 minutes and I should be trying to do it at least 3 or 4 times a day. When am I supposed to catch up on Netflix?

As always I’ve been amazed at the interaction I’ve been getting via Facebook, 99% of it is really appreciated. It’s especially rewarding to get messages from total strangers who’ve picked up on this blog. A few folk from different time zones are following the posts now, so it’s great to know when I’m struggling to sleep in the wee small hours, there’s someone over in NZ or Aus who’s wide awake and happy to chat for a while. The world is becoming a much smaller place.

Carol is being an absolute trooper as you’d expect. She’s dragged over everyday so far to sit with me when I can’t communicate unless I write. I can see she’s upset at times, but she puts such a brave face on things. Me? I just blub! I suspect that Carol is getting a massive amount of support from the Errant Son and Number One Daughter, oh and her other close friends Malbec and Merlot. Anna is back down from Leeds until Saturday, so she came over for a couple of hours with Carol on Thursday afternoon. It was good to see her and to hear that her new job is going well, she’ll be buying a flat cap and a whippet next……

Thursday night wasn’t too bad, my errant roomie was given a sedative around 10pm and seemed to drift off into a coma within minutes. I struggled a bit, but got about 3 hours uninterrupted sleep, then cat napped until roomie decided to boot up his laptop at 6am again. If you can’t beat them…..

I’ve managed to clean my breathing tube twice in the night, much to my delight. Once the nurses are confident I can look after myself there’s more chance of me being moved to a different bay. The breathing tube is now known as Larry, and I like Larry as Larry keeps me alive! – 

I thought as I’ve been in five days now I’d give you a feel of what an average day looks like on Blenheim Ward. The ward tends to burst into life around 6am when the night staff do their rounds dishing out drugs to the lucky patients. I tend to get a dose of paracetamol just to help with any pain. Then there will be the usual blood pressure, temperature and pulse rate checks. The next couple of hours you’re left to your own devices whilst the day shift come on and before the Dr’s do their daily rounds. They tend to wander in around 8.30am and have spent a few minutes with me each morning just checking up on my progress. All going swimmingly apparently. I’ll spend the remainder of the morning alternating between watching Netflix, writing this blog and trying to do a few laps of the hospital as exercise. Carol tends to come in mid to late afternoon, it’s a bit easier to park then I guess. We’ll spend a couple of hours either chatting, or just reading together. Obviously the chatting is a tad one sided at the moment, well after 35 years I suppose it’s about time I let her have her say. After shes left for the day I'll probably try and read for a bit whilst listening to my iPod on shuffle, before the task of trying to get back to sleep comes round again. By this time the night staff will be back on duty and coming round with the injections into my stomach, no idea what they're for, but it seems to keep the staff happy! 

I’ve told a couple of the nurses on the ward that I publish this blog on a weekly basis, and foolishly gave them the web address, so ladies, all of the above is entirely made up and never happened…… and that bit you mentioned about your colleague………… 😊

After 18 months of writing this blog I’ve just about leant to keep a balance between the truth, entertainment and discretion I hope. Scary has read it, but she seemed fine with what I’d written. I really will have to come up with some names for this new lot though as I feel a few of them will become regulars in the next couple of blogs.

Before I published this update I had a brief flip through the last few blogs from when I was told the cancer was back for another battle. So far I think things have planned out roughly as I had expected. In fact, I’d say I’m probably ahead of the game. I’m in little actual pain or discomfort other than from the stoma. My body hasn’t reacted badly to any of the drugs (yet) unlike when I was on chemo and RT last year. The place is pleasant enough and the staff on Blenheim are without exception, wonderful. (I need to remind Carol to bring some cakes in next week, sure they’ll go down well).

This morning my Surgeon, Dr Friendly, as she’ll now be known gave me some good news. One of the drains that I’d got in my neck was removed today, the other will probably come out on Monday. It was a slightly strange experience having about a foot of tube pulled out of your neck, not painful, but a bit weird. The next major milestone will be Thursday 6^th July when I’ll have a swallow test. This ensures that the throat stitching has healed correctly and fluids go to the right place. If this is successful I can then start on proper liquids and hopefully have the feeding tube removed. We’ve set a target date to be home by 11^th July, two days before Carol and I will have been married for 32 years. In sickness and in health, well let’s try a bit of this health lark for a change.

I also had a visit from my CNS Nurse Yun on Friday morning, a great ½ hour chat with her helped ease my mind somewhat. I showed her the blog, the book and other bits and pieces I’ve done since the original diagnosis in 2015, she seemed quite impressed that I’m managing to keep busy and that I’m channelling my energies towards positive goals. She’s mentioned that perhaps when I’m well on the road to recovery that I could share some of what I’ve been up to with the wider Head and Neck community, I’d be more than happy to oblige. As she was leaving she whispered to me, "It's ok to cry"

I’ve warned Dr Friendly that if we don’t keep to the dates above that I’ll have no option but to start digging the tunnel. I’ve already spotted a couple of loose floor tiles on my laps of the floor, I reckon if someone could smuggle me in a pickaxe I could be out of here in a couple of nights, especially if I bribe “Roomie” to play up for the night to distract the guards!! (Opp’s, meant nurses!)

As always, thanks so much for reading.

To be continued……..

#Shoulder2Shoulder

The Dark Side of the Moon......

……. Each time Astronauts Borman, Lovell, and Anders vanished behind the far side of the Moon they lost all contact with the Earth for 45 minutes on each of the 10 orbits. During the first long silence the black void crackled with tension until Mission Control in Houston reported, "We've got it! 

Well, the bags are packed and I’m ready to go. I’m guessing that I’ll be out of contact for a tad longer than the 45 minutes it took for Apollo 8 to come back from the Dark Side of the Moon. I know I’m going down to surgery first thing on Monday morning and that the operation will take most of the day, so it’s unlikely I’ll be posting a selfie from my bed on Monday evening. I haven’t taken my laptop in with me to start with, I’ll get Carol to bring it in when I’m feeling a bit more like a human again. But once it’s with me I fully intend to keep writing this blog. As well as keeping up to date with what’s going on in the world and watching a shed load of stuff on Netflix. I’ve downloaded eight new books which will keep me going for the couple of weeks I hope. The last time I was in hospital for more than a couple of days was back in 1982 when I had an operation to remove my left knee cap. I’d broken both legs a couple of years before in a motorbike accident. The right knee cap was removed at the time, but the left had been screwed back together. Unfortunately over time the screw started to come loose and the knee started to disintegrate, so there was no option but to remove it. There was an upside though as one evening a rather pretty nurse came onto the ward, promptly slipped up on some liquid on the floor, fell flat on her back and gave the ward residents a rather nice view of her shapely, stocking and suspender clad legs……. That was the first time I met Carol. I’m pretty sure that hospitals will have changed somewhat in the last 24 years, or at least I hope they have. Back then the food was just this side of edible, you could smoke in your bed, the nurses on nights would share your beer……..

In the meantime, whilst I’m silent, it would be great if some of you could check in with Carol and the sprogs to see how they’re getting on. They’re not going under the physical knife, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to be feeling it. So virtual and actual hugs would be appreciated whilst I can’t do it. Thanks guys J

The week was a strange one. I wasn’t feeling very good all the way from Saturday night. We went off to Nino’s for a last supper with Anna and for the first time in all the years I’ve been going there I didn’t really enjoy it. The food was up to its usual high standard, the Nino’s their usual cheerful selves, but I just couldn’t get into the swing of things. I even ordered a started as my main course and struggled to do it justice I’m afraid. Mind you, Carol enjoyed drinking ¾ of the bottle of red………

The work week was spent mainly trying to get on top of things before I go on holiday. By Friday afternoon I was done, the laptop shut down, the phone locked in my desk, “Out of Office” set to no idea when in the future.

I can’t remember the last time my desk was this clear…..  

  

Saturday morning was spent at OBR watching the first NZ vs Lions test, my god NZ are ruthless. I suspect they’ll only get better over the next two weeks, but I will be taking my Lions shirt into hospital and following the two remaining tests on the TalkSport radio ap. that I’ve downloaded, I don’t suppose I’ll be supping on a pint of Rams bitter whilst I listen though. 

Sunday morning was quite surreal. Despite what I’ve written below I got almost 12 hours sleep, waking up at gone 9.30am. Breakfast whilst watching the recording of Foo Fighters at Glastonbury (what a show!) and then it was time to get my bags ready, making sure I didn’t take too much, but enough to keep me entertained this evening. I decided to push the boat out for my last lunch and went for asparagus wrapped in parma ham with a poached egg. All washed down with a glass of Malbec. I’ll be gobsmacked if I get served that in the hospital.

When I’ve had op’s recently we’ve played the usual game of count to 10 and see how far you get before falling asleep. There must be something more interesting to do in your final 7 or 8 seconds on conscious thought? So this time, as I know I won’t be able to talk for some time to come, I think I’ll try and get my 10 favourite words in…………… I hope I don’t make the nurses blush.

My stomach has been playing merry hell with the mixture of pain killers and other meds. I don’t think the 30 degree heat earlier in the week helped either, but sleeping was just not happening. Even my afternoon naps weren’t easy to come by. When I asked the CNS Nurse what would happen if I didn’t have the treatment she said I would slowly start to feel the effects of the tumour and I think that’s what started to happen over the last couple of weeks. I know where the (not so) little bastard is and whilst I can’t physically feel him growing, I can feel the pressure he’s beginning to exert on me. Well mate, tomorrow you’ll be cut out, enjoy your fun whilst you still can. I’m frightened, but whatever the future holds it’s got to be better than the present where I’m hardly coping.

I’m hoping to get the next update posted at the usual time on Friday evening, subject to having a WiFi connection and being able to actually type something in the week. To date there have been just over 35,000 hits on the blog and I haven’t been refreshing my feed that much, honest ‘guv. Close on 80,000 words have been written. That’s far, far more than I ever expected to achieve, mind you, I didn’t expect to be writing for 18 months and counting. I’m now at the stage where I really don’t want to have to write anything else about cancer. There’s another book waiting to be written, non-cancer related, maybe another job for when I’m recovering.

In the meantime, as always thanks for reading and I’ll see you on the other side.

To be continued……

#Shoulder2Shoulder 

This is Getting Real – My Friend

I mentioned in the last blog that Carol and I were off to the Rams Fundraising Ball last weekend and that I was acting as photographer for the evening. Well, I shouldn’t give up my day job to become an actor is all I can say. I’d had a pretty rough day on Friday, after the trek over to Oxford I was feeling tired and a bit rough. My brief for the evening was to get as many shots as possible of the various guests at the ball, including table shots and specifically shots of Nick Easter. I just wasn’t up to it I’m afraid. We were sat on a table with guys from Camp Mohawk, the clubs charity partner. I felt like a total lemon as I couldn’t make conversation as with background noise my voice just wasn’t strong enough to be heard. Carol and I left as soon as we could and by the time I got home I hit the morphine bottle big time, probably too big as Saturday was a daze to me. In the end I published around 20 shots, when I should have been looking closer on 60 / 70. Hindsight is a wonderful gift, I should have passed the baton onto someone else for the evening. 

A friend of mine is playing a gig on Friday evening with his band in Reading He’d suggested that perhaps I’d like to go along and take some shots of them on stage. For once I’ve been sensible enough to decline the offer, as again, I don’t think I’d do the evening justice. Anyway, I’ve been going to bed by 9.30, I doubt they’ll even be on stage by then. I did manage to get some shots done this week. The Rams Ladies side, The Sirens, had their first pre-season training session on Wednesday evening, so I popped up and took a few pics of the ladies getting rather sweaty in the 25 degree heat! Of course I managed to get the obligatory shot of Amy Parsons with her “Game Face” in place 

 – Amy really likes the shots I take of her in action, or I think she does, it’s not always easy to gauge her reaction via her FB comments, as I'm not sure of the meaning of some of the words shes uses. There’s a special introduction to girls rugby being held at Rams on Sunday, and depending on how I feel I’ll try and get up to take some publicity shots for them to use. The rise of girls / ladies rugby is quite amazing in the Berkshire area at the moment, long may it continue.

It took until Tuesday for me to feel vaguely human again. A decent night’s sleep certainly helped, for once I wasn’t awake at 4am with my mind going 20 to the dozen. I actually felt quite “Buzzed” all day, a good breakfast, full lunch and a decent dinner all scoffed down for the first time in a couple of weeks. But, by Wednesday it was back to picking at food and drinking gallons of water to get the stuff down without gagging, very much a case of losing on the swings and losing on the roundabouts. By Friday I was back down to a pretty low point I’m afraid. My stomach has been reacting in a rather unpleasant way to the morphine and I haven’t quite managed to balance up the different potions available to me to counter the after effects.

The procedure I’m going to undertake is now becoming a reality. I’ve joked my way through this over the past couple of weeks, but it’s now looming up close. There’s just over a week to go and my mind keeps thinking that “This time next week…….” thought. The things I’m dreading the most are being fed by a tube until the wound has sealed properly. That’ll probably take up to ten days. The other main issue is trying to work out the best way to communicate whilst I can’t speak. The option of recording voice messages doesn’t really work as I can’t speak well enough to actually record anything. I guess it’ll be a case of sign language or writing messages down. A number of people have promised to come and see me whilst I’m holed up digging the escape tunnel, and for that I’m extremely grateful, but please don’t expect to have a full blown political argument with me, it ain’t going to happen, and PS, I don’t really like grapes, unless they’ve been crushed and made into a rather decent Malbec. The lack of voice is something I’m going to have to get used to, it won’t be a quick process to get any sort of voice back once the operation has been completed. I’m damn sure that I will get extremely frustrated during that time, so ahead of the game I’ll apologise now to anyone I lose my rag with. At least I won’t be able to shout at you.

I’ve been following a friend of mine on FB who’s currently out in NZ for the Lions tour, some of the photo’s he’s posted up have been truly wonderful, showing off the country in all its glory, albeit they’ve been well wrapped up against the elements of a NZ winter. Luckily he’s from Scotland, so I suspect he’s still got sunburnt on his bonce. It got me thinking of “Bucket List” type things that Carol and I should be looking to do once I’m back on my feet. I know it’s a long way off, but South Africa 2021 with the Lions has been added to the (ever growing) list. The Lions will probably have a better chance of winning in SA than in NZ too.

The forecast for the weekend is looking pretty darn good, so we’ll try and make the most of it. Carol suggested that as the neighbours are away we could do a spot of naked sunbathing to top up the tans, not sure Max and Anna thought it was the best idea in the world though. We’re off to Nino’s tomorrow night for the last family meal together for a while. Anna, after a week in Centre Parks, is leaving for Leeds and her new life as an employee rather than a student on Sunday. Max has his final A Level on Monday and then no doubt he’ll be deservedly putting his feet up for the summer after working hard at his exams. (I’ll be nagging him to get a job from the day after I get out of hospital!).

Another fairly short update as it really is a case of treading water until the operation. I think next week is going to be an emotional rollercoaster, but we’ll get through it.

The next post will probably be a week on Sunday, just before I go in to the Churchill.

However you’ve come across this blog, be it Google, Facebook, Twitter (@Honest Father, hope you’ve retweeted!) or some other form of electronic magic, as always thank you for reading.

To be continued……..

#Shoulder2Shoulder

Under the knife

I’m beginning to dread getting news alerts on my phone these days. We had some friends round for dinner on Saturday night, and around 10.30’ish, or second brandy as I like to call it, the phone came up with the BBC News jingle. The next two hours or so were spent on the BBC website and Twitter as news of the awful, cowardly and senseless attacks started to come through in more detail.

The next morning there were the usual plethora of stupid and misinformed posts on both FB and Twitter, the unfollow / unfriend button has become my ally again.

As far as “health” goes this week, it’s been a difficult one. My throat is becoming incredibly sore and I’m conscious that my swallowing is becoming quite pronounced even when I’m not eating or drinking. My mind is pretty screwed up now as I just want to get this over and done with and try to get on with the rest of my life.

I had a Pre-Op appointment at Churchill today, scheduled for midday. As the parking is a challenge to say the least I rocked up at 10am with the idea of queueing for the car park and then enjoying a coffee. No such luck. The car park was mayhem with cars queueing all over the place to try and find that elusive spot. So I bit the bullet and drove off to the Oxford Park and Ride and caught the bus in. It’s probably a cheaper option than the hospital as it was £4.80 return and only took 10 minutes.

I was seen by the pre-op nurse promptly after I’d filled in a questionnaire regarding my full medical history (I made some bits up to make me look worth saving!) and filled a specimen bottle, easy to have spillage when you’re bursting. Due to my age (!!!!) she had to set up an ECG for me and then it was the usual blood pressure, blood tests etc, followed by making sure I hadn’t made things up in the questionnaire. (Apparently I’m still worth saving even though I’m boring!).

Then the bombshell……. I’m going under the knife on 26^th June, just over two weeks away. 

Now that I know the date I’m feeling much better, albeit a tad anxious. I can now start to try and plan forwards a bit. For example, I’ll probably be in hospital for around two week, that gives a target escape day of somewhere around 10^th July. Our wedding anniversary is on 13^th July, it would be great to be home for that. And there’s the small matter of FB7s on 15^th July, whilst I doubt I’ll be fit to take photo’s it would be great to go up for a couple of hours to watch the Badgers for the afternoon. Something worth aiming for.

Tonight Carol and I are off to a fundraising ball on behalf of the rugby club. I’m singing for my supper by acting as photographer for the evening. The guest speakers are Nick Easter and the one and only Ashley Rowden, so it should be good evening.

The remaining couple of weeks are going to be spent making sure the iPod, Kindle, Laptop etc are fully charged as I intend to keep writing if I can whilst I’m under the care of the hospital. We may even attempt to get a meal at Nino’s sorted out prior to Anna disappearing up t’North. Max has a birthday looming, so we can make it a double celebration. 

I’ll also be using my voice as much as I can, you never know, it could be the last chance I get.

That’s it for this update, short but sweet.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued……..

#Shoulder2Shoulder

There can be only one…… The Kurgan#LifeWithCancer

If you use Social Media, and as you’re reading this I guess you do, I hope you’ll have seen the hashtag #LifeWithCancer this week. It’s the new campaign launched on Tuesday by Macmillan. The aim of the campaign is to highlight everyday “wins” where having cancer doesn’t matter, it’s a case of “still living my life” and not letting cancer win. I’ve posted on Instagram and Twitter this week using the #LifeWithCancer tag – the shots below were my choices, along with the reason for choosing them –

Tues 30^th  

-          Cycling at dawn on holiday to see the sunrise and get a coffee. #LifeWithCancer is still life.

Wed 1^st 

-          Playing rugby with Max on Boxing Day (It hurt!). #LifeWithCancer is still life.

Thur 2^nd 

-          Taking photos of the Rams. #LifeWithCancer is still life.

Fri 3^rd 

-          Spending time with my family. #LifeWithCancer is still life.

Some of the posts I’ve seen from other taggers have been truly inspirational. Each of us seem to have our own way of just carrying on. A few more people followed on Twitter and a few more being followed. It’s easy to drift off into the “It’s only me” thought, seeing others who are going through the same, or worse helps focus the mind somewhat. I was asked by the person I've been in contact with at Macmillan if I'd become involved in this latest campaign before I knew the bastard was back. But perhaps it's more relevant now that I'm fighting again, than when I was in remission. 

Macmillan Video  This is one of the video’s from the Macmillan site, it isn’t easy watching and I’ll happily admit that I shed a couple of tears whilst watching it on Tuesday morning.

One of the activities I try to continue to do, regardless of cancer is taking photos, it really is a passion of mine. So on Sunday I traveled down to Bournemouth for the annual 7s Festival. The Badgers were playing at the Festival, a lot of their players come from Rams and Max has had a couple of runs outs with them, he couldn’t make this one as he was working. Bournemouth is a pretty crap place to get to on a Bank Holiday weekend if the weather is half decent. So I left home at 6.30am, stopped for a coffee at the Motorway services and was parked up at the festival site by 8.30am. There were some “interesting” sights as I wandered around trying to find the Badgers. Folk had been camping on site since Friday evening, and I suspect one or two alcoholic beverages may have been partaken by a few of them. I eventually located the Badger boys and we headed off for the first pool match kicking off at 10am. A 19-19 draw was the result and already I started to feel a bit rough. I’ve not been sleeping well of late due to the tumour pushing against my throat and making any saliva go down the wrong way and waking me up coughing heavily. By the time the second match kicked off at lunchtime my throat was also becoming increasingly sore. So after shooting the match I decided, reluctantly, that I’d be better off getting away and home before it got any worse. It’s a shame I felt I had to leave as the boys went on to win the cup with some sparkling rugby so I’ve been told. The photos I took were “Ok”, but by no means the best I’ve shot this year, however they seem to have been well received with over 4,500 hits to date on my S2S page   S2S Photography .  A couple of hours sleep when I got home seemed to help, but by the time it came to go to bed I needed a large slug of my mate morphine to manage the pain.

 This is quite worrying for me. When I had my original diagnoses back in 2015 I didn’t feel ill until the effects of the RT took hold. This time I’m feeling pretty rough before any treatment has occurred and with at least another 4 weeks to go until surgery I really don’t want to have to rely on morphine so heavily. Whilst it helps with the pain, it can have side effects, such as fatigue, constipation, and mood swings. Perhaps this time I need to listen to my body a bit more and realise that I’m not going to be able to do all that I want to do. If I need sleep then I’m going to have sleep, be it in the middle of the day, or early in the evening, sleep is your friend.

Bank Holiday Monday was a bit of a washout. A quick trip into town to buy a shaving mirror and a small torch were the highlights. They’ll both be needed so that I can see to clean the stoma properly once it’s in place, sounds so romantic, but the hospital won’t discharge me until they’re sure I’m able to look after the wound myself.

The rather fetching picture at the top of this post is of The Kurgan. He was a character from the film Highlander, which is one of my all-time favourites. You’ll note that he’s got a scar from one ear to the other, apparently that is roughly what I’ll have once I wake up from surgery. As well as my voice box being removed, they’ll also relieve me of my lymph nodes to help to stop the spread of cancer. Apparently you don’t really need them, so I won’t miss them, but to remove them they need to create the scar to end all scars. My next fancy dress outfit is sorted I suspect.

I was first introduced to Highlander by a good friend of mine called Tony Hodson. Tony and I first met when we both worked at Lloyds Bank in Bracknell when we were still teenagers. We had a mutual love of rock music, specifically Queen, and as they produced the soundtrack to the film it was natural that there would be some sort of mutual liking. Tony was a massive Queen fan and somehow or other got invited to be part of the filming for Radio GaGa. When he called me to ask if I fancied going along to I jumped at the chance, even though it was on a Tuesday at Shepperton Studios in London. We both developed very heavy colds that day and threw “sickies” from work. It was one heck of a long day, arriving around 7am and filming not finishing until around 7pm. We were part of the clapping crowd, complete with white plastic suits, which I’ve still got somewhere. The highlight of the day for me was when Freddie came over as said “Dahling, could you possibly spare a cigarette for me? I’m gasping.”

 If you watch the video I can point out exactly where Tony and I were standing - Radio GaGa

After I left Lloyds Tony was one of the first person I recommended at my new job, Security Pacific, his career took off from there with him moving up to Birmingham for a role. My first ever visit to a hospital in Oxford was also Tony’s fault. He had a rather nasty car accident on a commute back from Brum to Reading, and was in John Radcliffe for a couple of weeks. Carol and I had been away, but we managed to get over to see him one day when we got back, he seemed well on his way to recovery. He died three days later, and we all still miss him. For a number of years following Tony’s death a group of us would meet in The Eldon Arms, our old stomping ground, for the Gathering, another nod in the direction of Highlander. Unfortunately, like most of these sort of things, it fizzled out after about 15 years as the group moved away from the area and families arrived to make meeting up more of a challenge.

Anna’s made a guest appearance back home for 10 days before she disappears off to her new life up in Leeds. We’re all very proud of what she’s achieved at Uni, and to land a graduate job so quickly is a real bonus. She’s bought herself a rather snazzy little Citroen C3, the downside being it only had an FM radio, so a quick trip to Halfords where the bank of Mum and Dad have ensured she can listen to DAB on her journeys.

The week has been a bit flat overall. I’ve managed to pick up a severe case of Man Flu which has resulted in an incredibly sore throat through coughing heavily, I suppose one upside of the operation is that in future all the gunk will come out of my stoma rather than my nose, I’ll save a fortune on handkerchiefs! I’ve heard nothing official from the hospital this week, other than a slightly surreal call to say my Pre-Op assessment will be next Friday at midday, nothing in writing yet though. The waiting is going to be hard, when I initially thought it was going to be two weeks that gave me little time to think, which in my case is good. Sleeping, as I’ve already said, is difficult. If I’m lying awake at night it’s so easy for the brain to start working overtime. The “What if’s?”, “How will we cope?”, “What happens if it comes back?” etc, etc……… I reckon over the next few weeks I’ll have gone through every possible scenario in my head. I just want it done and over with, that way we can plan the rest of our lives. As I said in the title life with Cancer is still life.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued……

#LifeWithCancer is still life

#Shoulder2Shoulder

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.