All the best Freaks are here…..

(Stop starring at me)

Weekend Update

Saturday was one of the best days I’ve had for a number of months. It started early with a shower and brush up and then standing outside of the hospital at 6.50am waiting for my Uber cab to arrive. Tim, from Redingensians, has been hugely supportive over the last few months, he’s also one of the club photographers and comes from Yorkshire, so we’ve a fair amount in common. He’d volunteered to pick me up and get me to OBR for the Lions match. I was fairly nervous, as this would be the first time I’d interacted with anyone outside of the hospital environment since the Op. I should have known that my friends who’ve known me for some years would look beyond the hole in my neck and just see me. Yes, they took the piss, but that’s a normal day at OBR (Or any rugby club for that matter!). Carol arrived shortly before kick off as did a good friend Jools, who’s a member at Abbey RFC, so it really was a case of into the Lions den for him 😊

I started the day with a coffee, but thought about half way through the first half that I’d get an orange juice and lemonade from the bar, somehow or other instead of a nice citrus based beverage I ended up with a pint of IPA, oh well, what is a man supposed to do. It tasted great, but it did take me the whole of the match to actually drink. 

The match was good. Very tense and could have gone either way. To be honest the AB’s were unlucky with the final decision of the day, but over the years they’ve been on the end of far more dodgy decisions in their favour.

The absolute highlight of the morning at OBR for me had nothing to do with rugby. The kitchen had been serving “Full English” to anyone who wanted it, now whilst I can’t smell at the moment, there’s nothing wrong with my eyes. A couple of Ensure drinks are good enough to keep you going, but……… The kitchen was being run for the day by Alison (Club Chairman’s Wife) and Cath (Club CEO’s wife), two ladies who’ve been great to us over the years and specifically since cancer came out to play with me. Within 10 minutes a plate of scrambled eggs, beans and hash browns had been produced. Now bear in mind I’d been advised to stay on pureed food for three or four days. Well this wasn’t pureed rubbish and it was wolfed down. Forget 5* restaurant food, this was far, far better!

After the match Carol and I made our way home for a few hours on R’n R. I spent about 40 minutes wallowing in a deep bubble bath which was truly bliss. Then back to normality with me cooking lunch. Sea bass, crushed new potatoes and a cream, white wine, garlic and basil sauce.

Firstly it was great to be back in the kitchen, making up sauces recipes as I went along with whatever was to hand, and secondly it was lovely to be able to cook for Carol again.

Then all too soon it was time to get back to the hospital and let the good parts of the day unwind to almost be forgotten.

Dinner was served at around 5pm (far, far too early) and was just about inedible

 I think the orange stuff was probably a curry, but I have no idea at all what the to “Off” white bits were, as for the peas………. DISGUSTING! I’m not an overly fussy eater, but I can’t eat food if it tastes awful. So far the three meals I’ve been served have been to the same very low standard. The menu options allow you to give feedback to the catering team. I’m pretty sure I’ll get no response from the feedback I gave. I didn’t swear, I was polite, I think I was constructive. I was also very damning of the rubbish they were producing. I’m totally aware that the budget for patient’s food is minimal, but for the love of god, they must be able to produce something that is edible surely?

Every healthcare professional I’ve seen in the last few days, Surgeon, Dietician, Speech Therapist, CNS Nurse has emphasised that my weight is a concern, but how am I supposed to gain weight when being served food I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy? I was so impassioned about this subject that I wrote a two page letter in, the wee small hours when sleep wouldn’t come, to my surgeon praising the level of individual care I’d received but begging to be let home so that I can feed myself tasty and nutritious food which will aid my recovery and reduce the burden on the NHS by freeing up my bed. I decided in the end not to pass the letter over and instead have written a detailed “Trip Advisor” report to the CNS teams in Oxford and Reading outlining my pure admiration for the work of ALL folk I’ve been in contact with, and my despair over the quality of the catering.

On Sunday morning I was offered breakfast in my room, I opted for a yoghurt and cup of tea, thinking what could go wrong with that? So at 6.45am I’m tucking into a toffee yoghurt……… dear oh dear, I’m not sure if it’s just me being fussy, but is that suitable? In the end I decided to wander off to the onsite restaurant and bought my own breakfast of fried egg, mushrooms, hash brown and beans. I’m lucky in that I’m mobile enough to get down to the restaurant by myself, and whilst it’s not overly expensive, I’m sure there are people in here who can’t really afford to be buying their own food on a daily basis and nor should they have to.

Carol and I went out for lunch, ok it was only to Sainsburys, but it was still “Out”. I had a rather tasty lasagne with salad and garlic bread. Knocked back with orange and passion fruit drink and a pudding of coconut and pineapple smoothie. Then it was back to the hospital. It Seemed totally crazy that I was being kept in purely so my blood pressure, pulse and temperature could be taken three times a day. Carol bought in some bolognaise for me to reheat for evening dinner, it was tasty, looked good and got eaten! As did the Ambrosia rice pudding. I’m aiming to up to 80kg by the end of August, that should be doable if I keep on eating like it’s going out of fashion.

Carol & I had taken to walking in the lovely garden that was below the ward I was staying in for a short period when she was over. The weather had been very hot and the garden was peaceful and shaded. Carol and Max first found it one afternoon whilst I was having a sleep. Over the years Max has often commented that you never see baby pigeons, it’s an ongoing joke in our house. Well, whilst in the garden he noticed a pigeon nesting in one of the bushes, sitting on two or three eggs. When Carol & I wandered down on Sunday the eggs had hatched and low and behold, baby pigeons

So far all interaction I’ve had with the outside world has been positive, but I know the day will come when someone will say something within my earshot. It’s won’t be a child, they’re naturally inquisitive, it’ll be an ignorant adult. But you know what, it’ll be water off a ducks back to me. The cancer has gone, hopefully for good. The operation has left me with life changing differences which are going to take some considerable time to get used to. Once the scar on my stoma has settled down properly I’ll be able to use a much more stable base plate for Larry. That’ll mean that less air escapes from the stoma and thus my voice will be stronger. It’ll still sound like Darth Vader, but it’ll be stronger. A couple of people mentioned when I was at OBR on Saturday that my voice was easier to understand now than prior to the op. I hadn’t really realised just how weak it had got. I know that there are going to be some pretty shoite days ahead, but they will be outweighed by the good days, I’ll adapt.

On Sunday evening, just before the shift change I was saying goodbye to one of the nurses who’s been looking after me quite a bit since I came in. Her parting shot to me was “Remember, Carol needs to be a wife and a mother first, and a nurse to you second.” Blimey, that had the tears flowing as I’d never thought about it like that before. It’s so easy to say to people, “It’s ok, I can go home, my wife is a nurse.” Without thinking about the extra pressure that puts onto Carol.

Monday 10^th >> Friday 14^th

Monday morning was always going to be a big one, either way. My Surgeon came round very early, before 7.30am and as far as she was concerned I was good to go. Dietician arrived at 9am, good to go. Speech Therapist waited until 10.30, but also good to go! All I needed now were the discharge letter, sickness note for work and a bottle of Anti Acid medicine that apparently I’ve been taking – Can’t quite remember taking it, but hey ho. The various documents and potions arrived by 2pm and we were on our way home, for good. A cheese, marmite, and mayo sandwich was followed by another wallow in the bath and then 20 minutes relaxing in the garden with a very small glass of wine. 

The cat hadn’t seen me for two weeks and was slightly wary of my return, however she seemed to settle down ok, until I opened my mouth at which point she stared briefly at me with wide eyes and promptly legged it for the afternoon. Oh what fun!

We’ve had a quick discussion at home regarding cooking arrangements, for the time being I’m going to cook my own food each night so I’m not forcing myself to try and eat stuff which perhaps isn’t suitable just so we can eat together. I doubt this arrangement will last much beyond the coming weekend. (It didn’t actually last beyond Tuesday).

The remainder of the afternoon was spent sorting out all the bits and pieces I’d brought back from the hospital. All the medical stuff is stored within easy access in the bath room, at some point I’m going to try and get three of everything so I can keep a supply at home, in the car and out with me wherever I go. There were a couple of booklets that I hadn’t really read when I was in hospital. One had a sticker in it to place on one of the car windows advising in case of accident that it was possible one occupant had a stoma. The other neat little trick is a plastic tub which sits in the fridge. Within the tub are my medical and emergency contact details. One of the questions on the form was do you have any distinguishing marks? My reply was “Large hole in my neck”!  On the inside of the front door I’ve stuck a green sticker which all emergency services know to look for, another sticker is on the fridge door. I did ask why it was kept in the fridge, the answer being that probably 99.9% of households will have access to a fridge. Very clever whoever came up with that idea.

So exactly two weeks after the Op. I’ve been allowed to go back home to really start the long road to recovery. I’ve been reflecting a bit on the last couple of weeks and what I’ve learnt from the experience. Firstly there was very little pain involved, even on day 2 and day 3 I wasn’t using the automated morphine dispenser that much. The neck was sore and to a degree it still is. My shoulders are the most painful part of my body at the moment, especially the right one which has dropped quite a bit. The two weeks have been pretty damn boring, especially the last 7 days. I’ve survived by using my iPod, Kindle, Laptop, Neflix and most of all, the totally irreplaceable BBC Radio. I was told by more than one of the people who were looking after me that I’ve made a remarkably quick recovery considering the invasive surgery I underwent. In fact the Speech Therapist told me that she’d never seen anybody go home as quickly as me and being able to speak so well. My task going forward is to ensure I keep my progress going and to not sit on my laurels. When Carol and I left the ward for the last time I couldn’t help but peak into the original shared cubicle where I’d started. There was “Roomie”, still lying in bed, still not dressed and still using his nurse call button at the drop of a hat. I wish him well, and I hope he eventually recovers, but I can’t help thinking that perhaps he needs a kick up the backside to get him started?

Tuesday started brightly enough, 10 hours of sleep certainly helped, as did a decent breakfast. Then it started to unravel a bit. Carol and I had planned to go into town, I need some storage units for all the meds and Carol had some “Soft Furnishing” stuff to pick up from Debenhams. I thought it would be a great chance to get some fresh air, interact with people outside of the hospital and get a decent cup of coffee. For some reason or other I really struggled to get Larry sited correctly this morning, that in turn meant there was a lot of air coming out of the stoma, thus I could hardly speak. I was also having problems clearing the mucus from my lungs which resulted in a “Rattle” like noise coming out. My confidence was fucked, I just gave up on the idea of going out and decided I’d be much better off feeling rather sorry for myself. We always knew that once I’d left the cosseted environment of the hospital that we’d have set backs. In the grand scheme of things this isn’t a bad one, it’s not like I was ill, or the stoma was playing up, or anything that would make me go back into hospital in the short term. It’s just an annoying little crisis in confidence that I’ll get over. At the Churchill there was always a nurse one electronic buzz away. I had an endless supply of tissues to use. I was safe. The day was eventually spent fuelling myself, little and often and generally having a bit of a “Fuck this for a laugh” sort of day. The first for some time, and hopefully the last for some time too. My stoma was feeling pretty tight and sore for most of the day. I’d been advised to take Larry out for an hour or so each day just to get some air to the wound. I tried that whilst I was having an afternoon nap on Tuesday afternoon. When I woke about an hour or so later I struggled to get Larry back in place, that’s the first time that’s happened. I know that the wound will contract over time and that it’s important to try to keep it stretched, I just didn’t expect it to happen quite so quickly.

Sleep was just not going to happen on Tuesday night, could be that my body was craving a sleeping tablet that I’d be using in the hospital, well tough, it’s not going to get one! I got up around 12.30, watched an episode of House of Cards, emptied the dish washer, pissed off the cat and eventually went back to bed around 1.45am.

Wednesday morning was good. I resolved to get into town as I need some sort of bum bag to carry around my meds with me when I’m out. The trip into Reading was quite daunting. I was by myself and felt a little but vulnerable, there were a few “Stares” from the usual dregs who hang out around the St Mary’s shopping centre midweek, but nothing was said. I stopped off at my favourite coffee shop, Artigiano’s for a cappuccino before hitting M&S (big mistake, there was a sale on) and then Debenhams which had exactly what I wanted, but at £75.00 they were never going to get a sale from me. I eventually found exactly what I was looking for on Amazon at a third of the price. “Man Bag Clark” coming to a venue near you soon! I know it sounds a bit daft, but that trip into town was a major step for me. I had to clear out Larry once and didn’t feel embarrassed in doing it in public. I had to interact with three strangers and had no real problems with them understanding me. I didn’t feel overly self conscious walking around town with Larry on display. I did however learn that I need a large supply of tissues with me wherever I go as when Larry needs cleaning he’s a messy bugger.

An afternoon spent on the sofa watching Andy Murray morph from plucky Brit to useless Jock was about as energetic as it got, truth be told I was feeling pretty well cream crackered after the lack of sleep last night, but I was determined not to have an afternoon nap with a view to crashing out as soon as my head hit the pillow. It seemed to work as a pretty good night was had.

32 Years ago on Thursday 13^th July Bob Geldof was at Wembley stadium urging you to "not go to the pub tonight, stay in and give me the money" - It's an urban myth that he said "Fu**ing Money". Meanwhile, about 35 miles South East, at Holy Trinity Church in Bracknell Carol and I exchanged vows. One of the vows involved "In sickness and in health". The first 30 years or so were pretty good, the odd cold, a couple of strained ankles, bad backs (both of us), but nothing too serious. Then came the big "C" to have a crack at ruining our future. We'll we’re maybe a bit more scarred than we were two years ago (Mentally and physically) but we're still here and from now on we're planning on concentrating on the health side of things. 

Without Carol, I couldn't have done this, here's to the next 32 years. 

Normally we’d be celebrating by going to Nino’s for dinner, however it’s still far too early. When I’m eating I make strange noises as the food goes down my new throat. It also takes ages to eat a meal, so I wouldn’t be able to do Nino’s food justice. Instead it was a quick trip to Waitrose for an Indian takeaway that we could pick at whilst gazing longingly into each other’s eyes! (Opp’s sorry, gone all Barbara Cartland there!).

It was whilst at Waitrose that I had my first “Encounter”. A rather large (as in obese), sweaty, balding man parked his car in a mother and babies space, when I say “Parked” I think abandoned would be a better description, this is a real bug bare of mine I’m afraid. I caught up with him and told him he’d forgotten his child, he just looked at me and walked into the shop without saying a thing. So, I caught up with him again, repeated what I’d said and suggested he might try parking somewhere else. Now I’ll admit my voice wasn’t that strong, but I’m sure he heard me. Again he walked off, again I caught up with him. He turned round, called me a “Fuc**ng Freak” and walked off again. At this point I gave up, went outside and pissed all over his door handle!! (Ok, the last bit I made up!). So, there you go, the first encounter with a one eyed bigot, I’m sure it won’t be the last, but hey ho!

The afternoon was spent back at Churchill Hospital for my monthly MDT (Multi Disciplinary Team) meeting, hopefully future meetings will be at RBH. Our appointment was at 3.50, we were eventually called through at 4.45 to see Mrs Fraser and Mim the Speech Therapist. All is good, they’re happy with the progress and I’ve a meeting with the Speech Therapy Dept. at RBH on Thursday 20^th July. In and out in 10 minutes, which does beggar the question why I needed to be seen only 3 days after being discharged? It was nothing more than a chat, not “Up the nose, down the throat”, no new base plate fitting for Larry. It also meant we left Churchill at 5pm, just right for catching all the rush hour traffic in Oxford, which is a crap place to drive around at the best of times.

And now it’s Friday and there’s a blog to be posted. This week has been challenging, but there have been far more peaks than troughs. The obvious peak being that I’m now home, even though that does lead to a few troughs too. This evening Carol and I will be up at Abbey RFC to watch Max play for the invitational Wooden Spoon side against an Abbey XV. This is the curtain raiser ahead of the “International Fat Boy 7s” being held tomorrow. Max is playing for the Badgers Social side who are defending their title, as are the Badger Elite Squad. Rams Ladies side, the Sirens, are making their debut at a 7s Festival so I hope to be able to get some shots of all the sides at some point in the day. My S2S Photography page has been idle for far too long of late, it needs some content added. If you do happen to be at Abbey this evening and you see a bunch of Nuns with collection buckets, please dig deeply, as they’re collecting for the Berkshire Cancer Centre.

Next week I’m going to have to start looking at the future. Carol will be going back to work on Tuesday as I’m now pretty independent. Max will be around anyway if I need someone to talk on the phone for me. At some point I need to speak to my boss about a phased return to work, it won’t be for a few weeks yet as I need to get my strength back, but planning doesn’t do any harm.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued…..

#Shoulder2Shoulder

Welcome to the Hotel California.

This will probably be the longest update I’ve written for some considerable time. Sorry, but I’ve sod all else to do at the moment other than watch Netflix or write the blog. There have been a few lows this week, but far more highs. So for once I may be losing on the swings, but I’m winning on the roundabouts….. I am struggling somewhat with names for the people who’ve been so good to me, part of me would like to use their real names, the other part wants to protect their identity and that’s the part I’ve gone through. I hope they know who they are, and I hope they know how much we appreciate all the help we’ve been given.

Saturday 1^st / Sunday 2^nd

Finally a half decent nights sleep with around 5 hours of uninterrupted kip, the most in one go for ages. It was a strange night, all the staff were new to me and it took a while to warm to them, but a few very kind words and a bit of advice from a Polish nurse turned my night around from a weepy wreck to a more positive outlook. She suggested that I asked the Dr’s to move rooms as she could see I wasn’t getting enough sleep and that I was becoming emotional about the issue. So, I wrote a long note, passed it to the Dr. who was on the morning round and he agreed that it would be in my best interests to be moved to a single room. The only downside being that there possibly wasn’t one available until the beginning of the week. So I settled down resigned to spending a couple more nights with Roomie and after the Dr’s rounds had finished I managed to tune into the Lions 2^nd Test down in NZ, catching the last few minutes of the first half and all of the nail biting second period. What I would give to be able to get out for a couple of hours next Saturday to watch the deciding test back at OBR……. Maybe, just maybe I’ll ask if it’s possible once I’ve had my swallow test on Thursday.

Both Anna and Max came over to see me early on Saturday. Anna on her way back up to Leeds and Max giving Carol a well needed day off from the drag to Oxford. We managed to go downstairs to the coffee shop and I sneaked outside for a couple of minutes, oh the feel of fresh air on my face, it was wonderful. We were only off the ward for probably 10 minutes, I needed to get back to give “Larry” a clear, but it was a start, a start to getting back to normality perhaps. 

At around 5pm I was lying on my bed dozing, when in walked another of the wonderful Polish nurses, with the best news of the day. I was moving, there and then to a single room further down the corridor. It was almost like moving house as I settled into my new abode, making it as homely as possible. It’s quiet, it’s away from the nurses station, it’s actually better than some hotels I’ve stayed in too!

The final piece of good news for the day came via a FB message from someone who’s been following this blog via a mutual friend. It turns out that her father had RT and Chemo, then a Larry fitter about 3 years ago. I picked and picked at her brain for how he’s coping, can he eat, drink, talk? The answers are basically yes to all those questions. She was kind enough to pass on his email address to me, so when I’m out I’m going to drop him a line and see if we can meet up for a chat. Apparently there is a monthly meeting of “Larry” wearers organised via H&NC RBH, I get the feeling I’ll be making a guest appearance. I wonder if it’s like AA. Do you arrive and say,  “Hello, my name is Paul, I’ve got a Larry?”…… I wonder what the collective noun for a group of Larry’s is? Perhaps a flock, or how about a Grayson?

The difference is having a single room is amazing, I settled down to sleep around 9.30 on Sunday evening, woke at 10.30 for an injection, again at 1am to clear Larry and then slept straight through until 5.30am. Waking up for the first time in a week feeling vaguely refreshed was superb. A full strip wash and total change of clothes set me up for the day. One side effect of the Op. is that I’ve temporarily lost my sense of smell, so I’ve probably been rather “High” despite my best efforts to keep clean, it’s a challenge when I can’t have a shower or bath yet as I’ve still got a drain in.

The Dr. I saw on Sunday morning is probably a rival for Cool Dude back at RBH, a very personable chap who was quite happy to answer any of my stupid questions. My question on Sunday was could I have the drain removed yet? His answer was “No”. Oh well….. He did warn me that the four days running up to the swallow test on Thursday will be very boring for me. Other than getting the drain removed, and hopefully the staples in my neck too, there’s not a lot else they can do with me. There’s only a certain number of episodes of House of Cards you can watch in one day, only a certain number of book chapters you can read, only a certain number of songs you can listen to on an iPod, before boredom sets in big time. So it’s been a case of trying to keep as busy as possible in as many different ways as possible.

A pleasant and relaxing afternoon was spent with Carol. We managed to get outside for a few minutes which was great, albeit a tad hot and I’d imagine getting the stoma burnt would be a pretty stupid thing to do this early on in. Later in the afternoon two friends we originally met from rugby popped in, they’re currently walking the Thames, all the way from London to its source. This weekend was the Oxford leg of the trek. I’m not entirely sure if they meant to visit me, or actually needed to go to A&E as they were both limping from their walking. Their names are, and I kid you not, Peter and Jane (That’ll mean more to some of the blog followers who’ve come via a certain FB page).

Monday 3^rd

Another half decent night’s sleep overnight on Sunday, only interrupted when the resident Italian Male Nurse crashed through the door to my room, missing his footing and making a rather spectacular entrance, I woke up quite quickly at this point. Sergio has been great with me so far, the patience of a saint in front of my silly questions, and really calls a spade a spade which is what you want. There’s no point in having false expectations of what could happen, you need to know what will happen. “Promise Long, deliver short” as my old Sub Manager at Lloyds Bank would have said. Sergio has been on the ward for about 5 of the 7 days to date that I’ve been an inmate. Getting to know the nursing staff is important to a patient, it allows trust to build up. 

One of the many key indicators that I’m able to go home will be how many times a day I have to clean Larry out. A healthy person (Not sure how healthy you are if you’ve had your voice box removed, but hey ho!) will probably change the filter between 3 to 5 times. On Sunday I had to change my filter 7 times, so a way to go yet, but encouragingly, for the first time I didn’t need to replace it overnight. Luckily (??) I’ll now get free prescriptions for the rest of my life due to the stoma. I’ve no idea what the cost of the filters is, but I doubt they’re cheap. I was reading up on the interwebby that it’s possible to buy special filters to use on the beach so that sand can’t get into the lungs, so I’ll be looking into that in more detail when I escape. Carol needs another holiday, and who am I to deny her that right?

My mind is in a better place as the week begins. At the time of writing I’m not half way through my stay yet, but the back is well and truly broken. If I can keep my emotions in check and look to the positives I’ll be fine. I don’t want to start looking too far ahead. I’ve small targets…

·         Get through the swallow test.

·         Have some solid(ish) food.

·         Have a cup of tea with two sugars (I don’t normally take sugar)

·         Get the feeding tube removed.

·         Get home.

·         Celebrate 32 years of being married to Carol.

·         Get up to FB7s for even a short time.

These targets spread over the next 10 days or so, I’m not going to look any further ahead.

A fairly long meeting with the Dr’s on Monday morning was all positive. He agreed that the final drain can now be removed which will help with my mobility. The staples in my neck will be removed on Thursday. Normally they’d come out after a week, but as I’ve had RT in the past the healing process can take a bit longer. So Thursday was going to be a full on day with Staple removal and Swallow test. I also had visits from the Dietician who’s going to up my daily calories to 2,500 and add in some fat content. She’s concerned that the weight is still dropping off me. She also appears to hold one of the keys to me getting out of here, so I’ll do whatever is needed. The final official visitor of the day was the Physio, she’s given me a course of 12 exercises to do to get my neck and shoulder movement back into some sort of order. Having had the muscles cut away means that at the moment it’s very painful to move my neck either up and down or side to side. The exercises are supposed to be done three times a day, I completed four sets of reps on Tuesday and really felt it, so I think I’ll stick to the advised three from now on in. My right shoulder has dropped slightly, again from the surgery, so I’ll need to make sure I work hard on that to get it back level. It’s damn sore when I walk for some reason. Unfortunately the Physio’s aren’t on the ward everyday so I’ll just have to wait until I see her again to get some specific exercises for the shoulder.

As usual Carol came over for a couple of hours in the afternoon, we chatted, read, listened to Wimbledon and I slept for a while. I was then a total and utter ass and I hated myself.

Another visitor from the world of Redingensians arrived later on Monday afternoon. Chris was quite happy to give me an all over bed bath, and after the Dr. making a total pigs ear of putting a new cannula in I could probably have done with one, but I gallantly declined. It was good of him to take the time to get over to Oxford and spend an hour or so trying to work out what the heck I was trying to say 😊 Chris is one of those sort of people who’s more than happy to put himself out for the benefit of others. Over the last couple of years I’ve grown to really trust Chris, he seems to have an inner feeling as to when things aren’t going great, and then saying just the right thing at just the right time.

Tuesday 4^th

I really struggled to sleep overnight, it was a warm one and for the first time since my Op I was feeling very thirsty in my mouth. I must have been up 4 or 5 times just to wash my mouth out with water, it was so tempting to take a quick swallow to quench the thirst. I discussed with Sergio last night as to whether I can have a shower today. It’s been a while since my last one and I must be starting to smell a bit by now despite my efforts with wet wipe strip washes. He’s agreed that it should be ok and briefed the day staff at handover. I had to wear a special bib so no water went down my stoma and into my lungs, but as I’ll need to do that for the rest of my life anyway, it was good to get used to it before going home. The shower was bliss…… better than sex, and it lasted longer 😉

My nurses on Tuesday were the original sister who I didn’t take to on day one as I was a moody bugger who just wanted things done. I should know by the age of 53 that my first impressions are usually rubbish! On Tuesday she spent a fair amount of time with me checking up on my progress, making sure I’m as independent as possible, and getting me ready to go home as quickly as possible.  She commented on how much better I looked than the last time she saw me, and to be honest, apart from some swelling around my jaw line, and a sodding big hole in my throat I don’t look too bad. Carol has bought in some polo tops, so when I’m not on the feeding machine I can wear roughly what I want so long as I keep Larry open to the elements. It’s amazing how good it feels to be wearing your own clothes and not hospital issued Jim Jams. Another step closer to normality, another step closer to going home. The other nurse is the student who seems to have worked every day or night since I was admitted. I’m not sure how much longer she has to complete her degree, but she’s going to make a darn good nurse. Little things like checking that the hospital issue pyjamas have buttons on them (most don’t) make the patient feel like a human being, rather than just an admission number. Making a point of putting a head round a door and saying hello…… Life skills that can’t be taught.

I’m beginning to get somewhat obsessed with what my first proper meal is going to be. I don’t mean whatever slush is pushed down my throat if I pass the swallow test. I mean the first meal I can cook myself when I’m home. At the moment I’m tossing up between either a fish pie or a quickly knocked up lasagne. Max gave me a small chalk board for Fathers Day, I was originally going to use it for communicating but thought it might get a bit messy having to wipe it down after each message. So it’s now sitting above my bed in the hospital acting as a menu board of the food I’d like the staff to bring me. So far we’ve had…… Bacon, Eggs and Black Pudding, Lasagne, Toad in the Hole, Liver and Bacon, Steak and Kidney Pie, Roast Pork and crackling…….

Wednesday 5^th

Sleep just wouldn’t play ball overnight, I’ve far too much on my mind ahead of Thursday and the “Swallow” Test. Sergio spent a while on Tuesday evening going through my discharge plan with me. Again, whilst the CNS Nurses have the final say, if I can pre-plan slightly I may get ahead of the game. It was good of him to do that for me. That’s two nurses now who’ve started to look at the escape plan with me, perhaps they just don’t want to feature in the blog that much.

It was a pretty quiet day all in all. Almost like Christmas Eve, waiting for the big day tomorrow. One “Amusing” episode was when I was visited by a young Dr. I’ve not seen before, he was about 4 foot tall so when he asked me to stand up so he could look at my neck……. He then asked how I was getting on with eating, despite a feeding tube sticking out of my nose! I felt a bit like they’d sent in a student to see how he’d interact with a real live patient, not sure he’s passed that module I’m afraid. He culminated his visit by poking the drain holes and asking if they were sore……

The afternoon, I’m afraid, isn’t worth describing in any detail here. I wasn’t in a great mood, the treatment I received wasn’t what I’ve come to expect, mistakes from all parties. Thursday was waiting on the horizon.

The highlight of a very low day was getting a text from Anna confirming she’s got a 2-1 in her degree from Lincoln Uni. She’s the first Clark to ever complete a University Degree. Carol, Max and I couldn’t be more proud of her. She’s worked so hard to achieve her goals and has turned into a very confident, capable and lovely young lady. (She was a horrible baby) 

Thursday 6^th

Two acts of kindness and my first ever go with a sleeping tablet meant that I woke up on Thursday morning in a far more positive frame of mind than when I left Wednesday. A decent shower, fresh clothes and I was ready for whatever the swallow test was going to throw at me.

Prior to the test though one of the young Dr’s who’s been on the ward rounds each morning I’ve been in asked if the Rams shirt I was wearing was from a local club. Turned out he’d played for Oxford Quins for a couple of seasons prior to packing in due to injury. The conversation turned to the Lions and my plan to escape for a couple of hours on Saturday to watch the match. He reckoned it was a good idea and would pass on the plan to Dr Fraser, my surgeon. Dr Fraser arrived by my bed within about 20 minutes, and confirmed that if I’ve passed the swallow test then she would be more than happy for me to have “Day Release” on Saturday – OBR here I come 😊

I was booked to have the swallow test at 2pm, by 2.20pm I was still on the ward and getting stressed to say the least. Eventually we made our way down to the x-ray Dept. where I was asked to stand on a shelf like thing which reminded me of the ramp Virgil used to get to Thunderbirds 2. Three different angles were taken whilst I swallowed a disgusting liquid. The outcome is that I’m water tight!! I was escorted down to the depths of the hospital for the test by a porter and an Aussie nurse from the ward. It was only when we were finished that we realised we might not know our way back to the ward. I was happy enough to just wing it, what’s the worst that could happen. However the x-ray technician gallantly offered to guide us back to safety, I have the feeling that he’d taken a shine to Sheila 😊

When Carol and Max arrived we took the trip down to the coffee shop where I sipped slowly on a bottle of Buxton, it tasted like nectar. The next step will be to progress to hot liquids, namely a cup of tea with two sugars! Due to the delay in going to have the test done it’s meant that I’ve missed seeing the Speech Therapist today, which means the tube stays in for another night. Oh well, C’est La Vie. 

However there were two final bits of good news to finish the day off. The cannula has now been removed once and for all, and all the staples are out and my head hasn’t fallen off. There were close on 50 staples in the neck, 49 of them came out with no problems, all I could feel was a very slight tug on the skin. The 50^th wasn’t going to come out at all, it liked my neck, it felt at home, so why on earth should it move. The poor nurse who’d done such a wonderful job on the first 49 was struggling against this little bastard. After a good 15 minutes of pulling, prodding, poking, sniping and swearing (by me) the sod finally gave up the ghost and popped out like George Michael on Hampstead Heath. The scaring looks much better than I expected and so long as I continue to make sure I look after it I don’t think it’s going to be quite as obvious as I first envisaged.

A friendly nurse (Is there any other sort?)  was looking after me on Thursday evening, she confirmed that the wheels were being put in motion for me to go for good. The District Nurse will be asked to visit once to make sure I’m coping. The Ambulance Service will be advised that I’ve got a Larry. My GP will be told and asked to put on bulk prescription all the everyday stuff I’m going to need to survive. God bless the NHS.

Friday 7^th

My days tend to start around 6am most mornings. I sit and write part of this blog whilst listening to the radio, usually BBC 5Live. This morning they were asking for reasons to feel confident ahead of the Lions test tomorrow, so I texted in that the Surgeon had agreed I could escape for a while, that’s got to be a good omen. Apparently the text was read out, but by that time I was on my House of Cards daily fix.

If today was sponsored by a brewery it would be a Carlsberg day. My surgeon came to see me first thing in the morning. She was very pleased with the way the swallow test had gone and was now looking at me to start eating. She then threw in the most beautiful curve ball. The pathology results are back. They confirm that the cancer had started to eat away at the cartilage in my neck, much more than was shown on the scan, so the Op. was totally necessary to save my life. The pathology results also show that she got ALL OF THE BASTARD OUT  - I’m cancer free.

The speech therapist swiftly followed, so I was still pretty emotional when we started on the next stage of recovery. She produced a rather unattractive looking fruit puree for me to try and surprisingly enough I could taste it. Ok, I didn’t really like it, but I could taste. Next up was the process of starting to learn how to speak, a few tweaks to Larry and I’ve managed a few proper croaks, steps in the right direction, but this is going to be a tough one. By late afternoon I’d managed “Hello”, “Bye bye” and “Of feck” – not sure I need much more in my vocabulary.

My room was beginning to be like Piccadilly Circus at rush hour. My very kind Polish nurse had noticed I was a tad emotional and called in the nurse who’s probably looked after me more than anyone else so far, before I had a chance to explain that my tears were of happiness in walked Yun the CNS Nurse…… blimey, can a man get no peace and quiet? 😊 at this point I hadn’t even had a shower and was still dressed just in my Rams shorts and a smile.

My lunch duly arrived spot on midday, my dietician has said if I can eat all lunch and dinner then the feeding tube might be removed this evening. Well, lunch was a large bowl of mushroom soup, heated to roughly the same heat as the earth’s core. Main course was supposedly fish pie, but I wasn’t convinced. Pudding of crème caramel and ice cream. All at portion sizes that you’d expect a healthy bloke to eat. I reckon I got about ¾ of the way through the lot of it before having to admit defeat. Hospital food has improved since my last long stay when I was 19, but it still isn’t the most appetising.

Yun reappeared in the afternoon, she’s like a stealth nurse, I never hear her coming. We ran through loads of safety related stuff, all very common sense but necessary to know. I’ve various forms to fill in when I get home, but it will be when I get home. I just want to stick my feet up and relax for the rest of the afternoon with TMS playing in the background.  

I know that this week’s writing has been “All about me” but there’s so much more to it than just me. Carol has been over every day and has put up with me being in a shoite mood at times. Max has been supporting his mum big time, and had to see me at some pretty low points. Kids shouldn’t have to see their parents in pain. Anna is 150 miles away, and isn’t able to be hands on, but she’s speaking to Carol daily and sending me links to fluffy cat videos on FB to cheer me up. They are my family and I couldn’t ask for a better bunch to be on my side.

As always, thank you so much for reading this blog. I really do appreciate all the comments that come in either via the blog or by FB.

To be continued……..

#Shoulder2Shoulder

PS – To my friends Graeme, Claire, Shaun, Eileen and Craig who are down in NZ. Please scream until you sound like me for that one final win 😊

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