Cancer 99
Posted on January 31, 2024 Leave a Comment
Well, here we are. As far as I know, this is officially my last day at work, though given the standard of communication between myself, my workplace and the USS (my work pension people) I am still unsure. I said before that I only got confirmation by sending an email myself to both places with less than two weeks to go.
Fortunately, today, my last day at work, is going to be a little different to the last 350 days or so, or at least those where we have not been away. I am currently sitting in the living room with a cup of tea having had a very poor night’s sleep (thanks for asking). I have my chemo bag attached, hopefully dripping fluorouracil at a steady rate into my feeble body, or at least I hope so, the last one didn’t work, and after being attached only since yesterday afternoon it is difficult to tell with this primitive balloon pressure technology. It is meant to empty over 46 hours, ie from Tuesday afternoon to Thursday afternoon. It is difficult to tell whether it is working until late Wednesday/early Thursday.
What are my plans for today, my last day of full-time work assuming the money arrives tomorrow? Sit around in the morning. Go out for a midday meal to the Devonshire Arms at Pilsley to celebrate, sit around in the afternoon, and perhaps watch Sopranos in the evening before retiring to bed at an ungodly hour (but as there is no god every god is ungodly so that does not offer a clue as to bedtime).
I know, when you saw Devonshire Arms, you thought ‘Why is he giving money to that thieving old Duke of Devonshire? Two answers, hypocrisy and good food. It is too late in life to focus too much on the dire aristocracy of the country, though I hope you all celebrated the anniversary of the beheading of Charles I yesterday. It is a shame that whenever I point out this highlight of British history few people are already aware of the act and how it led to a few years of the republic before the reversion to the primitive monarchy.
The Sopranos. This is a re-watching, not just a watching. It is excellent television and I dare any male to deny that there is a little bit of him that wants to have elements of Tony Soprano. It might be the underworld glamour and lifestyle, the women (and the differentiation between the roles of men and women), the violence, the executions, or even just the house (but then you would be lying to yourself wouldn’t you?). Perhaps we just need treatment from the psychiatrist.
For those of you who said ‘no way do I want to be Tony Soprano’. I didn’t say Tony Soprano, I said elements of him. Dig deep, those who have a particularly thick veneer of civilisation. Unlock the depths of the unconscious if you have to. Men are built for violence and control – not that I have had any success at either. My veneer must be too thick.
Perhaps I have found a retirement vocation. Now, all of you send me 10% of your earnings each month and we will say no more.
Cancer 98
Posted on January 30, 2024 Leave a Comment
Well, here I am again, the day ward for cancer patients, receiving my chemotherapy. I have had virtually an 8 week break, and I was getting used to it. Now I am back to endless repeated questions about my name, date of birth, address, and allergies. I sit here in a chair that might be comfortable for someone much shorter than me for several hours at a time., surrounded by ill people and nurses. The view out of the single window is of the wall of the adjacent building. I have my PICC line in and my arm is already starting to itch. There are various lines attached to the PICC line, dripping poisonous chemotherapy drugs into my arm.
I am a little worried about the chemotherapy. I had 13 sessions between June and December last year. It seemed to work well, and my side effects were not too bad. Generally, tiredness was the worst problem. Unfortunately, any chemotherapy treatment can only work for so long, as I was reminded by a nurse yesterday – just because I come across as blase and confident does not mean every phrase or sentence just washes over me. I have not questioned anyone about the possibility of further treatment once this one fails. I don’t usually say it but sometimes it is better not to know, not because of avoidance but because there can be too many things to deal with at the same time. Under this stoic exterior, there is a neurotic worrier bubbling under, ready to cry and scream like a big girl’s blouse. Nevertheless, the stiff upper lip is the best solution, not only for myself but also for others, to keep things in order.
I get weighed when I get here. Unfortunately on most occasions, I am heavier than the last time. I am not the wasting away cancer patient of common parlance. Surely a cancer diet ought to be the most effective diet available? But not for me. I am going to have to embark on a serious diet, restricting all the nice foods and increasing consumption of you know what. Why is it that women seem naturally more able to eat healthily? I put it down to muscle mass. Men need more food, they need more protein, they even need more carbohydrates. Unfortunately, this should also be linked to more physical exercise, and more need for strength. Being an academic is not the best way to be an effective male of the species.
Having a ‘healthy’ diet does not fit with having cancer. Comfort foods keep the neurotic at bay. Custard builds stiffness in the upper lip. So, if I end up being a miserable moaner in these blogs (I know, I have already been there), then it is because my diet is successful and I am losing weight. Misery, here we come!
Cancer 97
Posted on January 26, 2024 1 Comment
This is a two part piece, the first part is before meeting the consultant, the second is after. Are there differences between the two regarding the way.my mind is working?
Part One
I am sort of glad to be back to treatment, though it might be that treatment is not deemed appropriate due to bodily changes and that I just need to sit around waiting to die. If that happens then I don’t expect to just sit around. The world is my oyster and I am its pearl! It will be travel and write until I am unable to do so. Bedridden without hope of recovery seems a miserable existence so I might jump off High Tor instead, except I would be too much of a scaredy cat to do so.
Alternatively the treatment might be chamged to, for example, another form of chemotherapy. This might work well or the sude effects might be unbearable, in which case perhaps High Tor beckons again, or not.
I prefer the easy option that my bloods are fine, the last scan was fine, the cancer is being held at bay, and life will continue as it was last year, travelling around the country, trying to write my bloody book, and eating too much.
Yes, I am optimistic that the consultant will see me for a couple of minutes then tell me to clear off because I am boring.
A pearl is a sort of parasite, isn’t it?
Part Two
I am back at home. I thought cancer was supposed to be dead hard and lethal, like the Royal Marines, mine is more like the Italian army, 1939-45. Instead of just getting on with the job and killing me it is making very little effort. The biggest lump (peri-rectal) has, between my last two scans, gone from 2cm to just over 1cm, there is a 2mm lump in my lung that is unchanged (and may not be cancer, just an Italian civilian), and my blood marker is slightly up from 3.0 to 3.8, as is my white cell count, but it is suggested that I am recovering from an infection so that is normal. Finally, there are no further significant growths. A pathetic attempt at killing. Imagine if the German army was like that in WWII, they would have been beaten by Poland in a few weeks. We would never have had the Cold War, Israel would probably not exist, Churchill would not have been Prime Minister and the bouncing bomb may never have been developed.
I have been cleared to start treatment next week, so on Monday it is PICC line fitting (53cm as you are asking), and on Tuesday at 1000, the nurses started pumping me full of the same set of drugs as before. I was asked if I was ok with the same drugs. Yes I am, my side effects were not too bad, considering the stories you often hear.
I also have a hernia relating to my stoma. Perhaps it could be operated on, but I would rather not if it is not necessary. The disadvantages of having abnormal holes in the abdominal lining. Mine is more of a string vest than a nicely fitted shirt.
So, nothing to worry about then. I did remember to ask when I can take another break so we can book a foreign holiday – probably not Italy – I am waiting to find out the date. In the meantime, we have booked a short break in early February to celebrate my retirement.
Cancer 96
Posted on January 25, 2024 Leave a Comment
It has been a while since my last post, partly because I was still enjoying my holiday in France. I did manage to drive all the way to the Pyrenees and back, though I found it more tiring than I used to and had to stop by 3pm. My day seems to be shifting earlier. I get up ever earlier and fade in the evening by 8pm. If I keep going then I will be working the night shift and eventually get back to being able to have wild evenings at nightclubs – oh yes, I have never done that. I forgot.
The good news at the moment is that I am now retiring from The University of Nottingham at the end of January. It is of course quite exciting as it means I do not have to pander to the modern nonsenses expounded by our universities, though it has been rather badly organised. I only found out that I was retiring 11 days before I retire, and then only because I emailed the pension provider.
There will be no party at my retirement. My immense popularity at Nottingham means that I have tried to inform those I get on with best – count them on the fingers of one hand. If I have missed anyone who works there I blame chemobrain (my excuse for any failure from now on until my untimely death). In any case, what is a party if I don’t drink alcohol? It is just a conglameration of people having a better time than me.
People with cancer that is going to kill them tend to gradually close in on themselves and cease to have an interest in the world. Then they die. I may have already mentioned that I like to read long books so that I cannot die while I am in the middle of them. We have also just got two kittens, so I will need to look after them for the next 10-15 years (unless of course they get run over which is highly likely given what has happened to previous cats). These strategies of avoiding death should be taken up by the oncologists. I can teach them a thing or two about living with cancer. Read long books and have kittens are just two of them. Perhaps I should develop some CPD courses.
Anyway, retirement won’t really change my life as I have been off work for nearly a year. People talk about retirement being the start of a new adventure, being able to go places and do things that you couldn’t do when you were at work. In my case I have already been doing the things I want to, long before I became ill, so what I do is unlikely to change very much – apart from the cancer treatment and dying in agony of course (I must remember to stock up on morphine).
The treatment is beginning again after a good break. I am almost looking forward to it. It has been suggested that I am institutionalised, and that is probably right, but it helps me to deal with the routine that starts off ok but gradually gets more tedious over time. By my 13th treatment cycle in December I had certainly had enough of chemotherapy. I would have been ready to jump into a deep well filled with sulphuric acid had it not been for family, friends and the nurses – so social support does work. People are practical and says it like it is, which works for me.
At the moment I have no idea how many cycles I will have before I get another break; indeed, I don’t know if I will last through another full set of treatment, either I could fall under a bus (unlikely as I don’t go near public transport), the treatment might stop working, or the Conservative Government might abolish the NHS, but I prefer to plan ahead (another CPD strategy), so once I get dates we will be planning where to go. In the meantime, I will have my 6 day gaps in treatment and no doubt we will be off to the Lake District (already booked), Northumberland, Scotland, etc. If anyone has any good ideas of where to go for a 6 day break let me know – obviously excluding Wales. I don’t think I could get a visa.
Right, I am hungry so I am going to try and eat salad. They weigh me every time I go for treatment and the scales go further out of kilter each time, recording my weight as increasing (a good thing for cancer patients? Another CPD course, eat lots), so I am going to try and eat healthily. The problem with this statement is that it is always future biased, ‘I am going to’ rather than ‘I am’. Also, these bloody kittens are being very annoying. I’d send a picture but just look on the Internet at any cat photos, they all look alike. I much prefer dogs and chickens.
Cancer 95
Posted on January 9, 2024 Leave a Comment
The non-existence of god. As I sit here and feel the immediacy of dying, my views about death have still not changed. I have talked about this in my earlier blogs, but I am allowed to be repetitious. It’ll stop soon. I have had my diagnosis of cancer for a year this month (congratulations!) and my terminal diagnosis for 10 months, this should be long enough for me to have made adjustments to the way I think about death and dying, but there have been no real changes. I am pleased that since the age of 7 I have essentially thought the same way about god, death, and the non-existent afterlife.
I often wonder how, in the modern world, there are still people who genuinely believe that there is a god and some form of continued existence after death. There are several problems with this kind of belief, and we can turn to Descartes, a good god-fearing chap, to examine them briefly. We first need to embrace two important scientific ideas, doubt and evidence.
One problem with the concept of god is biological. Assuming god is linked to some idea of soul, which it often is, there is no rational biological argument for – there is certainly no evidence for – a soul that is separate from our bodies. I have only written this because Descartes made the absurd claim that the linkage between the mind soul and the body was via the pineal gland. He just made that up.
Descartes was a classic anti-scientific god-fearing philosopher, which leads us to another problem with the concept of god. Descartes rightly described the need for doubt, and ended up doubting everything except god. He doubted his senses, the existence of others, and so on. He did not doubt the existence of god because, he claimed, if god doesn’t exist then the world cannot exist. So from the basis that god must exist, Descartes reconstructed the universe. If god exists then why would he con me into believing there is a world when there isn’t? So there must be a world. If god exists then why would he con me into believing that people exist when they don’t? So people exist, and in this way Descartes rebuilt the world and everything in it.
Why we still think highly of Descartes I have no idea. To doubt, to challenge, to question, is a good thing. Without it science would not exist, but to doubt every single thing except the existence of god demonstrates an incredible naivety. If you are going to have doubt, which you should, then you have to doubt god. Put this with another pillar of science, the need for evidence relating to knowledge, as there is not a shred of evidence for the existence of any god then our doubt about god’s existence is, under current knowledge, not only possible, but necessary, which suggests that we should not be living our lives as though a god exists.
While my scientific mind must doubt my understanding of the world, I base the way I function on the available evidence, and also recognising my own limitations regarding understanding the world. If I lived as though god exists then I would – like many religious people – live a very strange and inauthentic life.
I know some may disagree….
Dr Nigel Hunt 