Cancer 223

And a Merry Christmas to everyone. I managed to stay in bed until 3am, so not a bad night’s sleep. I have seen no sleigh in the sky so I must begin to doub the existence of Father Christmas, and as for Jesus being born today, his existence is even more doubtful. Sorry folks, as I do know we like to live via fantasies. I do, too, like the fantasy that I will be alive next Christmas. At least, as an optimist, there is a chance that might happen, a chance somewhat greater than the existence of Father Christmas or Jesus Christ.

I have been eating, if not normally, more than I have been eating for a couple of months, which to me is a good sign of health. I got up this morning and ate a mince pie and two chocolate biscuits. I snuck open a pack that is for Christmas, but I have the cancer ticket, so I can get away with anything, especially as my offical diet sheet from the nutritionist says I should basically eat everything I have ever been told is unhealthy, all the biscuits, cakes, high fat everythings that I can think of. It doesn’t have bacon on the list, which is a shame, bacon is always in trouble as a really bad food, which is probably why I like it, and will be having it for my proper breakfast this morning. Anyway, the diet must work, because I only lost 1kg over the last fortnight, rather than the 3kg the fortnight before.

I seem to be handling the new treatment reasonably well this time (3rd round of new treatment, 46th round overall), though it contains more powerful chemotherapy drugs. I did feel very rough when I got home on Tuesday from the hospital. I fell asleep in my chair, and apparently, I was all scrunched up and making whimpering noises, but I got up on Wednesday and was a lot better. I managed a decent, though small, meal of sausage and cabbage pie with potatoes and sausage, followed by three slices of chocolate Yule log made by my great nephew, who at the age of 12 is a great cook. I did feel the consequences of eating too much, but it was my own fault so tough.

Today is the first Christmas Day I am physically on chemotherapy (usually it is paused for the holiday period). I am attached to my bottle, oozing fluouruorocil into my body. I should be removing the bottle and pulling out the needle in the early afternoon, just in time for Christmas Dinner – which is rib of beef with all the gubbings, cooked by the fair lady of the house, who I am not supposed to mention in these blogs, but could I just say she is the most amazing wife in the world? She does everything for me, despite the state I am in.

I am making some progress with my MSc thesis. I have written perhaps 15,000-20,000 words, but in the words of the wise Eric Morecombe discussing musical notes, they are all in the wrong order. This creates a difficulty for me sending material to my supervisors. They would probably appreciate 1,000 semi-decent words rather than 10,000 words of semi-drivel, so I suppose I had better get my act together and produce such a thing. At least I have a rough idea of where the thesis is going. It may include problems with the nature of science, society, modern economics and a critique of historical thought and method – that is not too ambitious for a 25,000 word Masters’ thesis, is it? Perhaps the scientific psychologist has not yet been entirely thrashed out of my system. Perhaps it is as one of my PhD supervisors said on seeing a certain draft chapter, ‘You have got it out of your system, not get it out of your thesiss’ Good advice, I will follow it, I will just discuss Alethia Howard, the nature of 17th Century science and her possible contributions. If anyone knows anything about this topic, please let me know.

And when you have done that, sit back and enjoy Christmas. Be traditional. Overindulge and feel ill by teatime. And if you are not Christian, do it anyway. Everyone steals each other’s festivals these days. It is all part of life’s fantasies.