What I did on my holiday – by Neville, aged 5 ¾ month.

Fish, Fur and Feather.

After posting the very sad update regarding Nino earlier in the week I thought I’d pass over the blogging duties to Neville for a change to update you on what he learnt as a puppy during his four days away in Cornwall. So, over to you Nev……

Sunday morning started off as it normally does for me. One of the Assistants gets up after I’ve barked, woofed and generally made noise for 20 minutes or so and lets me out of my bijou sleeping accommodation, also known as my crate. Breakfast followed as normal and then I noticed large bags in the lounge and the cage that is normally in the boot of Octi the Octavia was in the conservatory. Hmmm….. something was afoot, or should that be apaw? Snr Assistant P. was busy loading up Octi’s boot with enough supplies to sink the Bismark (I watch lots of daytime TV) and my nice sheepskin basket was placed on the back seats of Octi, looks like I’m being upgraded from the boot, about bleedy time too! Normally when I’m stuck into the car It’ll be for a short journey to Sulham Woods for a muddy run around, so when I was still in the back of the car after 20 minutes, with no sign of a muddy walk I decided to go to sleep for a while. 90 minutes later the Octi was still powering down a wide road and my puppy bladder was beginning to sing. So I sang too and Snr Assistant P. pulled into some sort of doggy toilet so I could relieve my stretched bladder (Snr Assistant P. would like to point out that he pulled into the Motorway services as he also needed to relieve his bladder and needed to top up his caffeine levels).

Back to the car for me and another 90 minutes or so before the bladder communicated to my throat and Asst. P pulled into another doggy toilet. This one was a step up from the previous place, this time I got to walk around on some grass before being taken into a rather pleasant café type place where the Assistants had yet more caffeine (how do their bladders cope?) and cake, which they refused to share with me. I sniffed the floor and laughed like a drain when a frankly inferior dog tried to bark at me…… I laughed in his face, and then farted in his general direction. I was put back in the car for being a tad rude to my fellow canine and promptly fell asleep again.

The next thing I knew I was being tossed from left to right and to left again as Asst P. seemed to be on some sort of Rally Cross course, little did I know that this was just the average North Cornwall road. We parked up at another doggy toilet, so kind of the Assistants, but instead of going into a nice warm café, they dragged me over a road, onto some soft stuff which they eventually explained was sand, over a hill and I saw for the very first time a beach………………. I’ve decided, at a very early age, that a beach is the BEST THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!!!!! I was allowed to run up and down the beach, chase a ball, ignore a ball, dig holes, drink from salty puddles (Not to be recommended) and run to the watery stuff at the bottom of the beach. What nobody told me was that the watery stuff at the bottom of the beach didn’t stand still and ran back at me, it was cold. The Assistants told me that we were at a place called Porthcothan Bay and that they knew it really well. Snr Asst. P had been visiting the place since he was a ten year old, that’s MANY, MANY, MANY years in doggy years. He brought Jnr Asst. C to the place for Jiggy Jiggy fun before some bloke with a Doggy Collar (?) said they should really do Jiggy Jiggy stuff, and have been coming back with the Very Jnr Asst. M and Absent Jnr Asst. A for lots of years.

Once the Assistants had finally persuaded me to put my lead back on (it’s a great game to run close to them and then dodge away at the last minute) they took me to another “First”. They took me to a “pub” which apparently is quite an important place for the Assistants. I’ve decided that Pubs aren’t as much fun as the beach, NOTHING is as much fun as the beach, but it’s quite a nice place to be. It’s warm it’s dry, it’s full of people who like dogs, and it’s full of people who drink beer, too much beer and then drop food on the floor, which I can then eat. I’d rather they dropped bits of their fillet steak rather than their chilli though, just saying.

It seemed that the Assistants were waiting for someone as they kept looking up when the door to the pub opened. After about 10 minutes the door moved and a dog which looked very similar to me walked in, looking proud and noble. I barked. It turns out that my Assistants had arranged with the other mutts Assistants to meet up over a cooling beverage and that the other mutt was in fact my big half brother, Sidney! We had a rather pleasant ½ hour or so getting to know each other before the Assistants decided it was time to go and explore our home for the holiday. By now I was getting quite used to jumping in and out of the car, but this trip only lasted about 2 minutes before we drew up outside The Linney, home until Wednesday. I was very excited to explore the house, especially when I discovered that there was no door on the stairs, so nothing to stop me haring up and banging my nose against any of the doors that the Assistants were stupid enough to try any hide behind. I especially enjoyed joining Assistant C. when she was trying to have a wee in peace (No idea why she doesn’t just go outside like I do!), the other really good game was to hide underneath the bed, exactly in the middle so that neither Assistant could actually reach me, oh what fun they seemed to have, although some of the language used wasn’t suitable for puppies ears. It really was a nice cottage and I got to sleep in the lounge whilst the Assistants watched the TV instead of being stuck in the office like I am at home.

As it was a strange house I thought it was only fair that I explored the grounds at night, so at 2am I decided it was time the Assistants were up and walking me in the cold rather than wrapped up warm in bed. The sky was full of stars and a very bright moon, but it was flipping cold on the paws, so after a quick wee it was back to my nice warm bed for the rest of the night.

Monday brought yet another new experience for me. Along with the pitter patter of rain against the window I could hear a strange clucking noise……….. Yay!!!! There were chickens running around the garden, I like chickens, especially after they’ve been cooked to perfection my Snr. Assistant P. I was told in no uncertain terms that these chickens wouldn’t enjoy being played with and I was to leave them alone or they wouldn’t produce the lovely eggs the Assistants had enjoyed for breakfast. To compensate for the lack of chicken fun I decided I’d eat sheep poo instead, very tasty and it produces a rather pleasant green poo for my Assistants to pick up! In fact Snr. Assistant P. was heard to comment that he’d have been proud of one of the deposits I produced! The Assistants decided as it was a bit rainy that we’d go into a place called Padstow, that they’d loved for years, for a walk. Another first for me as I’ve never been into a town before. It wasn’t that busy, but there were lots of other dogs around. I’ve decided that I’m not really scared of other dogs now, so long as they’re friendly to me. It seemed that Assistant C. hadn’t really packed her case for wet weather (It’s March, it’s Cornwall, it’s going to rain, even a 5 ¾ month old pup knows that!) So we spent 20 minutes in a shop so she could buy some trousers, socks, thermal top and me a nice new doggy towel! The lady in the shop thought I was lovely, so I gave her an extra special and extra wet lick on her ear so she would remember me. The Assistants needed more coffee and cake, it was a rather wet and probably smelly me who sat at their feet looking adoringly into their eyes whilst they drank. (That last bit is entirely made up, I spent the time sniffing the floor and picking at crumbs).

Luckily the rain stopped in the afternoon so the Assistants agreed to take me back to the beach. It was empty, just me, the two Assistants and loads of sheep trying to throw themselves off the cliffs! We had a wonderful time with the chuckit ball, I even brought it back to Snr. Assistant P. a couple of times, well he is getting on a bit these days. All too soon it was time to go back to the house for my afternoon nap as I had an appointment in the evening that I’d been looking forward to for ages, well for two days, but that is ages in doggy times. After dinner it was back into the car for the 20 minutes or so it took to get to Sidney HQ to finally meet Ed and Vicky properly, and of course to learn the tricks of the trade from my big brother. It was an exciting evening full of chasing, barking, play fighting (well I think Sidney was playing) and a couple of accidents! My excuse is that it was a new house to me, I didn’t know where the back door was and I was very excited! By 9.30 I was dog tired so it was au revoir to Ed, Vicky and Sidney, but we’ll be back. As soon as my paws got into the car I was fast asleep, dreaming of chickens and sheep poo. Snr. Asst P. wasn’t overly impressed when I needed a wee at 2am again, don’t know why, he got to see another wonderful sky.

Tuesday morning was a really beautiful day, so once the Assistants had eaten the chicken eggs again it was back into the car and the short hop back into Padstow where I had yet another first for me, a trip on a boat! I liked the wind in my ears, but I didn’t like the noise the ramp made when it opened and closed. The landing craft dropped us off at Rock, which the Assistants told me is very posh, but to me it just looked like any other beach! I had a great time digging holes, filling them in again, and then digging them again. I really enjoyed it when Snr. Asst. P. was behind me when I started digging, he didn’t seem to mind too much that his shoes and jeans were covered in sand! Another visit to a coffee shop where this time I did actually sit quietly as the Assistants topped up their caffeine levels. It was then back over the river and a final stroll around Padstow. The town was now quite busy as it was a lovely day, and it seemed to me that every Assistant in view had a dog with them, I think there must be a man at the car park who hands out dogs to people who arrive without them, a splendid idea.

I thought we’d be going straight back to the house for a nap, but the Assistants has other ideas. Their stomachs were rumbling (I could hear them from the back seats) so they stopped at yet another pub for lunch. This was a rather posh place, called The Cornish Arms, but I was happy to sit close to the fire by Snr. Asst. P’s feet whilst he fed me disappointingly small pieces of his fried kidneys. Mind you Asst. C. didn’t even give me a crumb from her plate of curried crab L The afternoon was spent dozing on the sofa (for the Assistants) and me dozing in my basket. The Assistants took some time getting changed that evening, so I was really looking forward to a visit to another posh pub, but………………………..

………………….. they locked me in my crate and went out without me………………………. They will pay!

When they got back (much, much, much later!) they explained that some bloke called Rick didn’t want dogs in his restaurant, despite being more famous as Snr. Asst. to the late Chalkie the Jack Russel than as a Chef. So I had to stay at home whilst they enjoyed John Dory (Not sure who he is) and Turbot, apparently I wouldn’t have liked it. I believe I should have been given the chance to make up my own mind. The list of misdemeanours by the Assistants is becoming quite long and will be paid back with interest, dogs have great memories. Now, where was I?

The next morning I was looking forward to more fun and games on the beach, a nice leisurely lunch, followed by a snooze in the basket. Instead my crate was packed up, suitcases appeared and Octi the Octavia was again packed up. We did stop for one final run on the beach and a couple of more stops on the way home so I could use the doggy toilets.

The bloody cat is still living in MY house, thought they’d have got rid of her by now.

So, what have I learnt from my holiday?

Beaches are brilliant!

If I’m good in pubs I may get fed.

Chickens gang up on me.

Sheep poo is probably more tasty than that John Dory chap.

Car trips can be fun.

Boat trips are great.

If Snr. Asst. P. leaves his big camera at home then the photo’s he takes on his phone will be rubbish.

Sidney is the best big brother EVER…………..

Lots of love, Nev. 

 

Thanks to Neville for writing this week’s update, probably fewer spelling mistakes than normal. It was a cracking few days down in Cornwall to recharge the batteries and to really appreciate the fun and love that owning a dog can bring (Eh, you don’t own me, you’re my Assistants – Nev)  Cornwall, or at least the Padstow / Porthcothan area have got it right as far as dog welcomes goes. We were a bit worried that we’d end up eating fish and chips on the quay, but 90% of the places we went to encouraged dogs, you could always tell where they were welcome, a bowl of water would be outside. You wouldn’t expect high end art galleries of top of the range restaurants to allow dogs in, and indeed I wouldn’t want to risk Nev having a teenage tantrum (I’m not a teenager yet, you wait if you think my current tantrums are bad – Nev) and having to leave an expensive meal uneaten. We needn’t have worried as he was really well behaved everywhere we went (We’ll gloss over the pee and poo incident at Sid’s gaff!). The meal we had at Rick Steins was the second best we’d ever eaten. Carol started with mussels in a black bean sauce and followed up with a wonderful John Dory dish. I has sashimi of fish with the hottest wasabi I’ve ever eaten, followed by turbot, which was sublime. It’s not cheap, but you know that when you book. It was a cold night in March, the place was probably 90% full. (If you’d taken me with you it would have been 92% full, just saying…………….. Nev) Our waiter knew his stuff, when I asked specifically for an Italian Red to go with our dishes and to drink a toast to Nino,  he came up with a blinding choice that didn’t break the bank.

It wouldn’t be a #S2S update unless I briefly mentioned the Big C. On Thursday I had my monthly check up at the hospital. I got to see Susan the SALT first as the valve had leaked a bit whilst we were away in Cornwall. She and I both agreed that as it now seemed to be behaving itself we’d let sleeping dogs lie (Oi, when I’m asleep I still have one eye open in case you open the cheese box! – Nev). We ended up just having a bit of a chat about how I was coping and what I’d been up to. I mentioned we’d been down to Padstow and it transpired that Susan spent her honeymoon there and ate at Rick’s too. She now takes her two Weimaraner’s down to Cornwall whenever she can. Surprisingly enough she’d never heard of a Kromi but once she was shown a photo of Nev being a poser the obligatory “Oh he’s sooooo cute” comment followed. (Will you please tell people that I’m not cute, I’m handsome, there’s a big difference – Nev)  I’ll be seeing Susan again on Monday as I’m having a swallow test done to see if there’s any reason why the valves don’t last as long as they should.

After a brief wait I was called in to see, the one, the only, the original, the brilliant SCARY. I hadn’t seen Scary since being diagnosed again with cancer, she was so apologetic that the RT and Chemo hadn’t worked as she’d originally hoped it would, as it was her fault. It was really good to see her again, as I felt happy to discuss my fears for the future with her in an open manner, much more so that with the other Oncologists I’ve seen of late. She was really pleased with my progress, my weight is continuing to go up and apparently I’m looking really healthy J She was happy to put me onto two monthly referrals from now on, another step on the 5 Year Pathway. We discussed the various treatments I’m having or will be having in the next couple of weeks. Next week I’ve got my first appointment with the physio to try and sort my shoulder out, she felt that was a really positive move. The week after I’m seeing the Reflexologist, and I can’t actually remember why. Scary said to treat it as a nice foot massage, nothing more, nothing less. I’m guessing that a highly qualified Oncologist hasn’t much time for what used to be call Alternative Medicine. I’ll go in with an open mind and clean feet.

I left feeling as positive as I have for some time.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued…………….

#Shoulder2Shoulder

Nino

Back in 1986 I was working as a Commercial Mortgage consultant for Security Pacific Trust in their Reading branch having transferred from the Collections Team as I wanted a “Jam Jar” (Company car!). The branch consisted of the Manager, Big Mike Taylor, three sales guys, Julian Cook, Little Mike Taylor, and myself. There were two office admin clerks, Louise and Caroline, or as I called them Lettuce and Cabbage. Big Mike was a larger than life character who originated from Birmingham, but loved to speak in Cockney rhyming slang whenever possible, and interesting concept when twinned with his strong Brummie accent. In truth, I was the world’s worst Commercial Mortgage salesman, but I had one heck of a year working with Big Mike before I transferred back to my real home as a debt collector. Mike knew probably every scam going to make life easier for ourselves, he was also a cracking salesman who would usually have his annual target in the bag by September, meaning Christmas started at the beginning of October. I first came across Mike when we played the annual Branches vs Head Office cricket match. It was played at Old Bath Road, in the days when Redingensians RFC still had a cricket square. Mike had played for Warwickshire CC in his youth, and was still a fairly handy cricketer in the local leagues. I still fancied myself as a pace bowler, but Mike took great delight in smacking me all over the ground, including one 6 that cleared the old club house and landed on the A4 Dual Carriageway, to the sound of screaming brakes!

Back at the old branch office on the Kings Road in Reading I shared an office with Julian Cook who was the Consumer Finance manager. We both smoked and in those days you could still smoke in the office. It wasn’t strange for me to come back into our small office to not be able to see if Julian was there or not through the smog of fag smoke hanging around. We must have stank.

One of the traditions in the office was the monthly sales meeting, always held in either a local pub or local restaurant. Why we didn’t hold it in the office I’ve no idea, other than we couldn’t really indulge in our speciality of getting outrageously drunk if we were stuck with Cabbage and Lettuce.

It was on one of these “Sales Meetings” that I first went to a restaurant that would become a favourite of Carol, Anna, Max and I for the next 30+ years. Mike dragged us into the old Market Place area of Reading with the promise of going to the best Italian restaurant this side of Milan and duly opened the door for my first ever visit to Nino’s.

I remember little of that first visit, probably due to the copious bottles of Peroni and Vino Rosso which were no doubt necked. However the place must have made some sort of subliminal impact on my brain as Carol and I were soon visiting three or four times a month (this was pre Anna and Max days!). It got to the stage when we arrived that Nino would remove the normal wine glassed from our table and replace them with the large bowl like glasses that he serves Amarone in, we didn’t even get to look at the wine list. Once the kids were born our visits became less regular, until Anna was about seven and Max four when we decided to risk a lunchtime visit. The kids thought they’d arrived in heaven, especially Max who was made such a fuss of by the waitress who used to work in the restaurant. The kids have always been pretty good at trying new types of food, especially seafood and I can vividly remember the look of surprise on Nino’s face when they both ordered seafood pancakes, “You do realise they contain mussels, squid and prawns don’t you?” he asked. Two perfectly clean plates later and he didn’t bother asking again. Every birthday, anniversary, other excuse for going out, was then spent in Nino’s, until it closed down due to the massive increase in business rates in the centre of Reading. We were devastated.

I guess it was a couple of years later that we heard of a new restaurant opening up in Pangbourne, about 4 miles from where we live, Nino’s had phoenixed and the Clark family visited on mass. Old Man Nino had been joined by his Young Nino in a far more compact location. The new restaurant has only around 25 covers maximum, but the ambience, menu and wine list was just the same as the old place. We probably visit only 6 or 7 times a year but we’re always greeted as old friends, which I hope to a degree we have become.

In September 2016 just before Anna returned to University we had a Father and Daughter lunch one Friday at Nino’s. It was a warm late summer and we sat outside enjoying a lite bite and a couple of glasses of wine. As was his want, Old Man Nino came out to chat with us after we’d finished. I noticed then that his voice was pretty weak and he was struggling to speak. He sounded and looked just like I did back in late 2015 when my family and friends were trying to persuade me to go and see the doctor. We chatted for a while, Nino knew I’d been ill, but wasn’t aware that it was throat cancer. I took the bull by the horns and quite bluntly suggested he get himself checked out. I think between Anna and I we shocked him and before we left for the afternoon he came out with the bill and confirmed he’d booked an appointment the next day to see his doctor. 

I was next in the restaurant about three weeks later when they held their annual coffee morning in aid on MacMillan Cancer Research. Whilst choosing my cakes and drinking my coffee Young Nino mentioned that his dad had followed through on his promise, seen his doctor and was waiting to be treated for throat cancer. I felt so sorry for the family, but in a way I was glad I’d been firm with him earlier in the month. We chatted about the likely effects that Nino would face and the challenges for the family. I spoke openly about how hard I’d found things and that writing a blog and the book had helped. Nino kindly downloaded the book and published the links on the restaurant webpage. Whilst I was at the Royal Berks one afternoon waiting for an appointment with Scary I bumped into once of the Radiographers who’d looked after me when I was being zapped. She mentioned that she’d recently read my book on the recommendation of a certain Old Nino who she was looking after, and without breaking any patients confidences she said he was doing really well. Later that same afternoon as I was leaving the clinic I bumped into the man himself as he was coming in for his Consultants meeting. He still insisted on calling me Mr Clark, as does Young Nino, despite the many requests to call me Paul 😊

We’ve eaten at the restaurant a number of times since Nino finished his treatment, and whilst you can tell he’s tired, he was still on duty most nights making sure everything was running smoothly. We visited them the Friday before I went under the knife in June but didn’t mention anything about the Big C coming back for another play, it didn’t seem appropriate. Carol and Max popped in for a meal one evening on the way back from visiting me in Oxford and let slip I was ill again. That evening I received a message on FB from the Nino’s wishing me the best for my recovery and advising they’d sent Carol and Max home with a decent bottle of red for me to quaff once I was well enough.

We were next at Nino’s at the beginning of October, the first time since I’d had my operation, and for the first time neither of them were working on a Friday night. The service was great, but it was obvious that something wasn’t quite right. As usual I left a Trip Advisor report, and as usual it was in a tongue in cheek manner. 9 times out of 10 Nino would reply to my reviews and any others with his own quippy comments, but this review went unanswered as did all the others.

Fast forward to February of this year and we were back at the restaurant again. We’d heard that Nino Snr had had a spell at the Sue Ryder Hospice, more for respite than anything else. Young Nino confirmed that his dad was now in a nursing home, but still going into the restaurant when he could to help out. As always it was a special meal, made more so, perhaps as it was the first time Carol and I had been out to Nino’s without one of the pesky kids for quite some time.  

On Tuesday of this week I was walking Neville on the beach at Rock in Cornwall when I saw a Facebook post on Nino’s Restaurant Page that Nino Snr had sadly passed away. It was windy on that beach and sand blew up into my eyes. That evening Carol and I had a table booked at Rick Stein’s, we deliberately ordered a bottle of Italian Red and drank a toast to a man we had both been proud to call a friend.

We’ll be back at the restaurant as soon as possible and by drinking a bottle of Amarone in his honour, I suspect it’ll be blowing a bit of sand in the eyes that night too.

Ciao Nino, you’ll not be forgotten.

To be continued...............  

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

The “Beast from the East” has finally arrived in Berkshire. We woke up on Thursday morning to around two inches of snow, a wind chill of somewhere close to minus 10 and frozen pipes to the washing machine. Earlier this week I had to travel up to London for a monthly management meeting, the first I’d attended for over two years following the initial cancer fun ‘n games. (Incidentally, its two years this week that I finished my first course of Chemo and Radiotherapy).

 

The meeting was to be held in the central London offices of one of the suppliers we deal with as a company, there were people travelling from as far a field as Manchester, Weston-Super-Mare and Birmingham, and of course Tilehurst. When I drove down to Tilehurst station the car temperature gauge was showing a balmy minus seven degrees. Oh well, I’d checked the trains before leaving the house and there were no delays to the 7.38 to Paddington…………… the 7.38 to Paddington was cancelled, as was the 7.55 and 8.04. The 8.12 arrived though, at 8.23! 40+ minutes standing on a frozen platform wrecked my throat. I was making horrible noises and was getting funny looks from my fellow frozen travellers. I was lucky enough to get a seat on the train and spent the journey coughing and spluttering into tissues via my stoma, not a pretty sight.

I’d arranged to meet a colleague who was travelling up from the West Country at Paddington, he was due in just after 9am. You can probably guess the next bit…………….. His train eventually pulled in at 9.30 by which time I was frozen to the bone, struggling to speak and rapidly running low on tissues. The tube journey over to the Barbican on the Circle line was fun and games, we got as far as Baker St when the baseplate I was wearing just gave way under the pressure of my coughing and completely fell off, this was the first time that had ever happened to me. It was a case of quickly jump off the tube, clean the stoma, dry the skin, replace the baseplate and wait another 15 minutes for the next train to arrive. My colleague, who’s known me for about 10 years now, was very understanding and even held the mirror for me whilst I was putting on the new baseplate. We eventually made it to the offices of our supplier just before 10.30, after a quick stop to stock up on coffee and bacon rolls.

The office we were visiting was smack in the middle of the City of London and based on the 15^th Floor of a tower block, with wonderful views stretching for miles on a clear day.

The day was anything but clear however. After about 10 minutes it started to snow a bit, then a bit more and then an awful lot more, until by about 11.30 it was a total “White Out” with all the surrounding buildings shrouded by the blizzard. I was beginning to get a bit concerned about travelling back home if the snow continued as it was. I was also not feeling great. I had to excuse myself from the meeting about five times to go and clear the stoma out and struggled to speak clearly when needed. Typically, at one point in the meeting a discussion was taking place on a subject that was not really of any importance, I managed to utter “Bollox” at what I thought was a whisper, but it came out pretty loudly and perfectly clearly!

The meeting eventually broke up and I made my weary way back to Paddington and the train back home. Luckily the trains were running pretty much to schedule which was amazing and I was home just before 6pm. It was a hugely challenging and at times emotional day, but I survived it. I was also on my last HME having used six through the day, by far the largest number in a day for a fair few weeks. It was Neville’s last Puppy Training session that evening, but I was too jiggered to go, so Carol had the pleasure of seeing him pass out with flying colours. Neville celebrated his release from Borstal by having his first “Snow Day”, Neville likes “Snow Days”…………… 

I was due to have my second meeting with the Lymphoedema nurse Jan on Thursday, but unsurprisingly due to the weather it was cancelled. However Jan mailed me to say she’d be sending me some pre-cut K Tape in the post so I could apply it myself until my next appointment. I’ve been doing my exercises this week along with the massaging of the scars as shown, its early days so no real results yet. But I’m feeling “loved” by the NHS as always, that’s half the battle.

Now for the main topic of this brief update, I want to talk about poo!

I’ve known that dogs poo for a fair few years now and since becoming Senior Assistant to Neville I’ve realised that on average he likes to poo between two and three times a day. He’s also pretty good at letting us know when he needs to go by either circling manically or head butting the door from the lounge into the conservatory. It isn’t the most pleasant task in the world to pick up after your dog, but its part and parcel of being an Assistant. If there’s one advantage to the procedure I had done last summer it’s that I have no sense of smell at all, so picking up dog poo isn’t really an issue to me. If I’ve got Neville with me I now don’t leave the house without a supply of poo bags, in fact even when he isn’t with me I’ve probably still got the bags with me. I’ve yet to reach into my coat pocket and find a nicely wrapped parcel still there three days after the act, but it’s bound to happen at some point. In all the walks I’ve done with him I can honestly say that only once have I not picked up his poo. That was when he managed to perform in a verge after crawling under a barbed wire fence at the local woods. His deposit was nowhere near where any one would ever have been able to actually walk themselves. So I didn’t feel too guilty. Generally, when walking around the paths close to home or in the local park dog poo hasn’t been a problem. That all changes when we get up to our favoured walk, Sulham Woods, the place is just covered in poo all over the paths. It’s not just a case of being on the verges or the edges of the path, it’s often smack in the middle of the path. I really can’t understand the mentality of someone who’s prepared to own a dog and all that entails, but not be prepared to pick up its mess. Before Neville bounded his way into our life (He’s the most uncoordinated animal I’ve ever seen, often tripping over his own paws.) I was known as someone who wasn’t overly keen on dogs on public areas. At the rugby club when I was Mini and then Junior Manager I’d often walk the pitches before matches clearing poo off the playing surfaces. Dog mess and small children really don’t mix. If I’d had my way I’d have deployed snipers on the club house roof to pick of the guilty owners, not the dogs, it’s not their fault, it’s the owners!

So, if you’re the assistant to a dog and it has a poo, pick the offending item up, place it in a bin and be a responsible adult! If you can’t do that then don’t own a dog.

This coming weekend is going to be interesting. Max is due to be playing for the Mighty Cents (Rams 3^rd XV) away to Maidenhead on their 3G All Weather Pitch. Rams 1^st XV are due to play Wimbledon at Old Bath Road, but as the weather is so crap that’s been changed and they’ll also play at Maidenhead RFC, as will the 2^nd XV, so it looks like Rams will take over Maids on Saturday. Suspect the Maids bar takings will be increased from their usual take. A great chance to take shots of three Rams teams in action on the same day. I must make sure I pack my spare memory cards.

On Sunday Carol, Neville and I are travelling down to our beloved Porthcothan Bay for 4 days, so long as the snow and ice sods off, doesn’t it know it’s officially Spring now? This will be Nev’s first long trip in the car since we brought him home from deepest, darkest Dorset, and I’m slightly concerned as to how he’ll take it. Stops at the services may well be more frequent than our usual “One Stop Splash ‘Dash”. We’ve hired a cottage at Carnevas Caravan Park, the same place where we spent our honeymoon, the same place we’ve stayed at almost every year since. We’re hoping there isn’t a repeat of the disgraceful scenes we suffered last year - The Great Cornish Doughnut Debacle  

We’re very much going to play things by ear whilst we’re in Cornwall. It’ll be “Weather Dependent”. We will get Neville onto the beach, throwing his new Chuckit Ball about.

We will get to the Tredrea Inn for lunch and a couple of pints.

We will walk along the cliffs.

We will be taking loads of photos. We will be having dinner at Rick Steins Sea Food Restaurant on Tuesday evening. We will be meeting Sidney, Ed and Vicky Thompson on Monday evening. New readers won’t know that Sidney is Neville’s big brother. It also transpires that the annual Sidney Awards (Far bigger than the Oscar’s) are taking place on Monday evening, so Neville may well get a walk on part in the ceremony. Other than that, we’ve nothing planned J

So, I’m ending the week looking forward to next week. It’s been a real struggle at times over the last few weeks. Reality of what the future holds is beginning to hit home quite hard. It’s very easy to get quite “Down” when you’re struggling with the stoma due to the shoite weather. But Spring is just around the corner, Summer will arrive, a sun holiday will happen in April or May, the corner will be turned. I’m less than 12 months into life changing and lifesaving surgery, I’m entitled to get a bit pissed off with things if I want to.  

Cornwall beckons, life isn’t all bad.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued…………………..

#Shoulder2Shoulder

A Lymphoe……. What??

The three shots above are the before treatment, after RT and after surgery, let's play spot the difference.

I had my weekly “Drain the NHS of funds” meeting on Thursday this week. (I’ve had someone who I thought was a friend accuse me of being a drain on the resources of the NHS in the past couple of weeks!). This time I rocked up to the Duchess of Kent Hospice close to Prospect Park to see a Lymphoedema Nurse as my scars have been giving me a bit of yip of late and I’ve been suffering from some additional swelling which has made sleeping a challenge. I presumed that I’d be seeing a nurse who could show me how to massage the scars and get on with things. I didn’t realise I’d be entering (yet) another stage of the recovery process. I was slightly concerned initially to be getting an appointment in a Hospice, I was surprised that they thought I’d gone that far downhill, but it transpires that the Lymphoedema treatment is partially funded by the utterly brilliant Sue Ryder charity. The feeling of the place is totally different to the Royal Berkshire Hospital, as befits a hospice I guess, very quiet, very peaceful.

We started off by going through a detailed description of my medical history, I’d completed an online form a couple of weeks ago where I thought I’d answered everything to the best of my knowledge, but my nurse had also been in contact with my GP, so she had the details of when I broke my legs at age 19 which I hadn’t bothered to list….. I knew at this point that I was going to like Jan, she had a sense of humour and the ability to get me to speak about things that perhaps I normally wouldn’t. Questions were asked in such an easy manner that it just seemed natural to answer truthfully.

Q - “How do you feel about your body after the surgery?”  A - “I’m not really bothered how I look.”

Q – “What are you worried about?” A – “I’ve the rest of my life to live with a Lary, it’s starting to be tough.”

Q – “How are you sleeping?” A – “Badly” ……

…………. You get the picture.

I found that she was so easy to talk to, when I had to strip to the waist so that she could look at the way my shoulder was reacting to movement,  she commented straight away on my #Shoulder2Shoulder tattoo, asking what it meant. Normally I’d give a bullshit answer, but this time I gave her the full story, going back to when it was originally mentioned by Graeme Cook as a mantra for the treatment I was going to face. After a brief examination of my shoulder movement and a poke and prod at the scars she confirmed my thoughts that I was in slightly more trouble than perhaps I’d realised I was. She confirmed that I was suffering from a condition called Lymphoedema. Perhaps the clue was in the fact that I was being seen in the Lymphoedema clinic!

Here’s the definition from the MacMillan website - 

Lymphoedema is swelling caused by a build-up of lymph fluid in the surface tissues of the body. This may happen as a result of damage to the lymphatic system because of surgery or radiotherapy to the lymph nodes in the neck and surrounding areas.

Considering I’ve had both RT and Surgery it’s hardly surprising to find out that it’s had a go at me. The worrying thing, initially, is that there isn’t actually a cure, all that can be done is to manage the condition. Again, this is where our wonderful NHS comes into its own. The treatment to manage the condition would be painless (well mostly) and easy. First up was the application of Lymphoedema Taping, developed by a Japanese chropratror, Dr Kenzo Kase in the 1970’s and first widely seen in the 1980’s Seoul Olympics when it was used by athletes, it’s commonly known as “K Tape”. Basically the tape lifts the layers of the skin allowing the pressure to alter around the small lymphatic channels below the skin, like a massage.

The effect of the tape, if it works, will be to dissipate the fluid that’s currently building up in my neck. As well as the tape I’ve been given some exercises to do, some massage techniques to employ and some breathing exercises.

My drain on the NHS will continue to increase as the nurse has referred me to a) A Physio to work on my right shoulder * b) A massage specialist to work on the scaring c) A reflexologist to do some sort of Cat Fagg White Witch magic on me.

*older readers may remember that just after I escaped from Churchill Hospital in July last year I was lucky enough to get some Physio from Vicky at Redingensians RFC, for various reasons, mainly down to me being a lazy so ‘n so the sessions stopped in August.

The condition I have isn’t that serious, well it isn’t for me as I’m quite fit, comparatively young and not overweight. However, as it is a Head and Neck issue it means I go to the top of the waiting list without passing go or collecting £200.00. I probably won’t be seen much before April, but bearing in mind this is a free service that isn’t too shabby. Whilst it isn’t serious, it isn’t what I originally thought it would be. I suspected that the scaring hurting, the swelling increasing and my increased lethargy was just an impact of the surgery. Knowing that it isn’t and it’s a new condition brought on by the surgery and RT is somewhat comforting. The SALT team spotted the symptoms, referred me to the specialists and a plan to control the conditions has been put in place, all within a two months period.

"Taking one step forward, falling two steps back, can't you get inside your head, I'm tired of dancing, so very tired of dancing."

In other news……………… Neville has been fairly challenging at the back end of this week, quite bitey and not overly keen on doing what he’s told, a bit like your average adolescent. We knew we’d have our work cut out at times, but perhaps we’re finding puppy ownership harder than we’d envisaged. And then, he’ll turn into the sweetest, most beautiful dog you could want. Maybe the visit to the "Doggy Dentist" will help to calm him down a bit. 

The weekend will be spent trying to keep warm if the weather forecast is to be believed, possibly a couple of rugby matches thrown in for good measure.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued………

#Shoulder2Shoulder

Money

Just when you thought I’d left you alone on your Friday evenings…………………. Sorry folks, I’m back, but don’t despair, this isn’t a long post. I thought long and hard about whether to post this update or not, it probably won’t be to everyone’s taste or agreement, but hey ho.

Some time ago it was mentioned that I used a fair amount of acronyms or technical terms when I’m writing my blogs, so to start with here’s a key for what is likely to come up this week.

·         HME – Heat and Moisture Exchange – this is the filter I use to regulate the air into my lungs.

·         Stoma – The hole cut into my throat to allow me to breath.

·         SALT – Speech and Language Therapists.

·         CNS Nurse – Clinical Nurse Specialist.

·         OBR – Old Bath Road.

·         RTFM – Read the F**king Manual.

·         LUNA – A specific base plate designed for use at night.

·         LARY Club – the few poor souls who’ve undertaken a laryngectomy and who meet up to chew the cud.

In the couple of weeks since my last update I’ve been feeling pretty good as far as my health is concerned. I had my monthly consultants meeting at the hospital, which went well, albeit with a Dr. I’d never met before and who hadn’t actually got my notes to hand. I then saw Susan in the SALT team to discuss my stoma feeling a bit sore and the bone around the area feeling a bit bruised. We discussed the types of base plates I wear and how long I’m wearing then for with the HME’s. Susan’s advice was that really I should be giving my skin a rest at least twice a week and just wear a protective flap over the stoma when I sleep. Now read on and bear in mind the italicised text was written when I was feeling a bit pissed off with the way I felt I was being treated by a key supplier………….

On Thursday I was invited by the company who make the vast majority of the kit I use on a daily basis, to allow me to breath, to attend a presentation at Reading Town Hall to discuss ways of making sure your Stoma and HME are working as well as possibly during the winter. I did think that the middle of February was perhaps a bit late for the subject, but decided to attend as I’d missed their last presentation. I turned up with no real expectations, other than perhaps I’d learn some tricks of the trade to perhaps help me next winter. I’ve suffered quite badly since November, the cold air really plays havoc with my lungs, and being outdoors for any length of time in the cold weather is really to be avoided. Scarfs don’t work as when the HME is covered I really struggle to get air in properly. On entering the room in the town hall I was greeted by two other Lary users, one whom I’d met in my Lary Club meeting last September, the other I didn’t know. The only other person in the room was the Rep. from the manufacturers who looked relieved to see another willing victim of her presentation.

I’d hoped that the session would be a “Meet and Greet” type affair, a cup of coffee, chat around the water cooler and then make excuses after 30 minutes or so. I was to be disappointed. The Rep. explained that she’d be making a two hour PowerPoint presentation on the benefits of wearing some form of HME 24 hours a day, my heart sank.

The HME is a nifty bit of kit. I’ve got three different types I use. The FreeHands, which as the name suggests means I can speak without covering the filter. A normal “Push Filter” system and finally the “Luna” night filter. They all work in roughly the same manner. The filter will have salt covered foam behind it, this works in two ways. When I breath out, the filter catches heat and moisture, when I breath in the cold air is caught by the expended heat and moisture and warmed up before hitting the lungs, stop me if I’m being too technical. Basically air needs to be at around 37 degrees and 100% moisture before it hits the lungs to allow them to function properly, too cold or not enough moisture will result in a chest infection at best.

Of the three Lary users at the meeting, one was a 20 year veteran, the other over 10 years, and me at 8 months, but an educated 8 months. The first 20 minutes of the PowerPoint really was teaching your Granny to suck an egg. It was around this point that the lightbulb clicked on in my brain. The Rep. kept mentioning about how her Company spent so much on research and development and that their competitors were cash strapped so couldn’t do the same. At this point she introduced the Luna system into the conversation, almost seamlessly. If we’re wearing an HME filter then we also need to use a base plate to keep in in place, don’t worry, there will be photo’s at the end. Wearing a base plate over the Stoma all day, every day, can be a bit tiresome as it will probably irritate the skin and can cause painful sores. The Luna system is designed to keep any irritation down to a minimum by having a sort of soothing effect on the skin, it’s probably witchcraft for all I know. 

I’ve been using the Luna system since the end of October, not every night, but probably four out of seven nights. The other three nights will either be flapping free or a slightly softer base plate then the one I use daily. The Rep. was adamant that research, undertaken by her company, who supply the kit, had proven that HME’s MUST BE WORN 24 HOURS A DAY.

My Consultant, who I trusted with my life, and my CNS Nurses who’ve seen me smile, cry and all emotions in between, have both said that giving the neck and Stoma a rest from a base plate is a good thing and will cause no problems whatsoever. And as previously mentioned, my SALTs had also said the same thing the previous week. Now, who am I going to trust on this one? Someone who’s paid by a company to sell their products, or three (+) Healthcare professionals who have no financial investment in the product? I’m a cynical old Hector at times.

The Luna system is ok, but in my mind it has its flaws. The HME’s are a slightly smaller size than all others, despite the four different manufacturers agreeing to make them all a standard size. When I questioned the Rep. about this she claimed it was so that the users didn’t use them in the day time, well that’s just bollox as you can hardly speak using them so they’d be pointless, maybe they’ve been designed to be smaller so that the Lary user has no choice and has to use the bespoke HME? It’s also a pain in the backside to put on. I mentioned this to the Rep. and her initial reaction was that I must be doing it wrong, well thanks a bunch, I’ve been following your employers instructions. She gave me an example to show how I was using it, and conceded that my way of application was exactly how it should be done. She couldn’t explain why to apply this base plate you need to complete three actions, when on the other base plates you only need to do one. That cynical old Hector in me just kept coming up with the same answer “Price”.

Throughout the whole meeting she kept reiterating that the NHS / GP can’t deny us any of the kit that her company supply, we can DEMAND that it’s given to us. After about the forth or fifth time she said this my hackles started to rise. Her pitch smacked of raising as much profit for her employers as possible and sod the actual needs of the patients.

I’m on my sixth different type of valve thanks to the dedication of the SALT team who look after me, they’re not thinking of the cost / profit margin. No one is questioning the kit I have to order each month. I’m costing the NHS a bloody fortune each month, but I’m not a patsy, I’ve got a brain and I can easily see when someone is trying to play the three card trick on me.

Two of us left what was supposed to be an informative presentation, but what turned out to be a “Timeshare” sales pitch early, I suspect that neither of us will bother return for next month’s sales pitch. Throughout the 90 minutes of so I was there, the only mention of protecting the stoma from winter weather was to wear a scarf, which is pretty difficult to do when you breath through your neck.

Now this update may just appear to be me sounding off, after all I do use the companies supplies and apart from the God awful delivery problems (yes, the suppliers are owned by the manufacturers!) I’ve generally been happy with the products. What’ got my goat is the blatant way the meeting was just an excuse for a sales pitch for a new piece of kit which would have a far higher profit margin than most people’s current choice and held no relevance to the proposed subject of the meeting.

 LUNA Base Plate

Xtra Strong Base Plate

Standard Base Plate

Protective Foam Flap (To cover the stoma at night)

As I said at the beginning of this update, I’m feeling quite chipper. My weight is on the up, I’m over 83kg for the first time in over two years. My appetite is probably at an all-time high. Porridge for breakfast, cooked lunch and full dinner supplemented by snacks seems to be doing the trick. Carol and I went to Nino’s in Pangbourne earlier this week and I managed to clean the plate and have room for a pudding too, I’ll have to buy 34” jeans soon if I’m not careful. I don’t want to tempt fate, but my valve is now going into its sixth week, a record for me, with no sign of leaking. Maybe the time and effort the SALT team have put in is beginning to pay off.

In other news, Neville is getting to be a slightly calmer dog and is certainly benefitting from the puppy classes he’s been attending for the past four weeks. He’s also got an appointment at the “Doggy Dentist” for the end of next month when he’ll be losing a couple of bits and pieces, not from his mouth though.

Finally, the rugby season is beginning to come towards its conclusion. It looks like Rams will finish either third of forth in National 2 South, a superb performance for this young side and a great result for Seb Reynolds in his first season as Head Coach. Tomorrow I’m off for the long trip down to Barnstaple to watch the boys play and no doubt be on the end of another rib breaking hug from Verity.

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued……

#Shoulder2Shoulder