Cancer 71
Posted on August 19, 2023 Leave a Comment
The cancer nurse I spoke to yesterday said I was boring. I am not used to being called boring. I am called many names that are not particularly pleasant but boring isn’t usually one of them. On this occasion though I was glad to be called boring, as he was referring to my most recent blood test results. Everything is where it should be. As I am getting ready for my 6th round of chemo my body is as normal as it can be. I have abdominal pains, I have some side effects from the chemo – well, a little diarrhoea and a lot of tiredness, nothing too bad – but generally, I am feeling reasonably fit and well. I was told the other day, as we walked up to the Lodore Falls in the Lake District that I had a spring in my step, perhaps for the first time in many months.
I am working on my novel. I wrote 5,000 words yesterday so my head hurts. I dealt with the training of the Parliamentary Army through to the Battle of Edghill. I won’t write anything today. I am enjoying trying to write something different to the usual academic stuff. Re my Applied Narrative Psychology book, I have a draft of the cover, and I am working through the proofs, so all is well for the January release. I am still wanting to complete any academic articles outstanding, so those of you who have such materials get in touch and let’s get things written. You know who you are.
We have had another few days in Northumbria, my latest favourite county, exploring the Roman remains and eating well. We also spent a night at a very nice spa hotel in the Lake District. I got told off by the nurses for going to a spa with a PICC line in and while undergoing chemo as my immune system is probably shot to pieces, but there you go.
My favourite hobby is driving, and re my cancer, one of the biggest worries is that I may get so unwell I cannot drive. That would be awful. I love driving around the country, and around other countries, but that is off the agenda while I am undergoing treatment. Also, I have not yet received my government paid for car. In case anybody is concerned that I am getting a government paid for car, then remember I am unlikely to get any of the state pension I have paid into for the whole of my adult life so I need to get whatever benefits I can while I am still here.
After the 6th round of chemo I will be having a CT scan to see what is happening in my abdomen. Hopefully it will show that no new tumours have grown, but who knows. If all is well then the chemo will continue for another 6 rounds, another 12 weeks. I am utterly sick of it. I don’t like being in the hospital for one day every fortnight. I don’t like having a bottle attached for the next two days. I suppose it could be worse.
Cancer 70
Posted on August 8, 2023 Leave a Comment
I am in treatment again. Number 5 out of 6. I have got them to pump the muck into me as quickly as possible so I can get away from the hospital as quickly as possible. The novelty has worn off. The two week cycle is getting tedious. These three days of treatment, instead of providing an ideal opportunity to sit and write, is just something I want to get over asap. I still have my 6 day reward to look forward to. On Friday we head to Northumberland again, our latest favourite place. If you don’t know Northumberland then you should. If I was entirely neutral about my favourite and least favourite counties, which I am not, then Northumberland would be my favourite county. It has great castles and houses, hills, Roman bits and pieces, lovely food and people, and not least, the lowest number of people per square mile in England. What is not to like?
I wonder whether I will have another 6 fortnightly treatments immediately after this one, whether I will have a break from treatment, be moved onto another treatment, or be seen as a dead end case where there is no point in further treatment. The way my abdomen feels most of the time I am not always able to generate my external positive optimistic self, though of course it could just be the effect of the drugs. I still haven’t lost my appetite. My weight is still increasing. Good or bad? No idea.
The hospital is so noisy. The beeps of the machines, the television in the waiting room, the radio in the treatment room (it is on one of those ghastly commercial stations which have adverts – shocking. Haven’t they heard of the BBC?), people who think watching videos on their phones with the sound on is somehow acceptable. Then there are the tattoos – so visual they are auditory.
I am still trying to write. I am enjoying studying my novel writing course and have just sent off the work for the 4th module. I am going through them at the rate of one a week – not bad considering I wanted to achieve one a month. I have also written 9,000 words of my novel about the Civil War. It might be the second draft of something I wrote 100,000 words on about 20 years ago but this is a total rewrite, this time I am trying to write in the 1st person. I write quickly but not often enough.
I have got the proofs through for my Applied Narrative Psychology book. That will be fun to go through, so I had better get on with it from tomorrow as I sit there with my damned bottle attached.
It is better than working – isn’t it?
See, the optimism – or the delusional thinking – still applies….
Cancer 69
Posted on August 2, 2023 Leave a Comment
It is 4am. Like most nights, I have been up for hours. Usually I just sit and read. I sometimes write, but it is often too much effort. Tonight I decided to watch a film. I watched Dunkirk, the 2017 version rather than the John Mills version from the 1960s. I have watched it once before. I thought it was dire then, I now think it is one of the worst war films I have ever seen.
For some reason Dunkirk gets good reviews. Some see it as one of the best war films ever. I really do not understand why. Fromm the very start it is apalling. There is enemy gunfire so a group of soldiers run up the middle of the road, throwing their rifles away. I know some soldiers threw their rifles away, but professional soldiers running up the midde of the road with no cover?
From there it just gets worse. None of it makes any sense. The limited dialogue is cliched. The mole is either empty or full of soldiers depending on whether Kenneth Brannagh is on it. A spitfire pilot carries on fighting and runs out of fuel rather than returns home. A small boat just sets off on its own rather than waiting for RN crew. The same boat returns to Dorset with a load of soldiers. Dorset? Is that across from Dunkirk? It didn’t happen, it wouldn’t happen. Apparently hundreds of other soldiers were also brought back to the same place, then entrained to Woking where Churchill has somehow already made his ‘beaches’ speech and it is printed in the newspaper. OK, that one might be possibl as it was made on 4th June, but we then hear Kenneth Brnnagh is staying behind to help the French, so the timing doesn’t work.
How does a fishing boat suddenly fill up with water from a few bullet holes? And why don’t the soldiers aboard, instead of panicking, just climb up the bleedingly obvious ladder and escape? Why are the beaches virtually empty of troops? Where is all the abandoned equipment? Why are the lights on in Dunkirk (no they are not all fires)? Why do the planes never get to Dunkirk? Why are the seas empty of ships? Why is one ship anchored seemingly miles out to sea? How can a Spitfire that is out of fuel glide apparently overnight, never leaving the beaches, and apparenty shooting down an enemy plane? There is a lot of disjointedness regarding time. It is daylight in France, night in the UK, etc. Also, token woman nurse in destroyer. Really?
I could go on but my point is made. Yes, there is artistic licence, but how can one writer/director, who should have continued with his silly Batman films, get so much so wrong and yet have audiences who somehow think it is acceptable to produce such utter nonsense?
I have read about Dunkirk, I have met and interviewed Dunkirk veterans. I wasn’t there. None of us know what it was really like, but we can be fairly sure that this awful film does not represent anything of the reality.
As for my cancer, I am four rounds in, still eating too much, having a couple of days in Shrewsbury (nice town), and still getting very tired.
Cancer 67
Posted on July 25, 2023 Leave a Comment
Some people have suggested that some of my blogs are a little explicit about what is going on with my cancer but I have always splurged when it comes to discussing thoughts and feelings. I may be a little open at times but I hope that helps people understand my experiences as a cancer patient. The stoma is a good example. The other day I had an ‘accident’. I was in Norfolk and had just sat down after ordering fish and chips (I am very careful with my diet, ensuring that my weight increases every time I attend for chemo) ewhen I sensed a smell. I checked and found that I had a leaking stoma. My first thought was that if my food was delivered while sorting this out then it would go cold. My second thought was that I need to sort this out urgently. Being a little more laid back than I was when I first got the stoma I had left my bits in the car. I had to go to the car, then to the toilet.
The problem arose because I was wearing my truss, which compresses my abdomen, but also compresses my stoma bag, and unless I constantly check how full it is I have no idea. Normally I surreptiously feel the bag to see how it is getting on. Yes, basically I fondle my own shit in a bag.
The truss had shit on it, and so did the inside of my shirt. I washed them out as well as I could, cleaned up and changed the stoma bag. I headed back to the cafe, got my meal from the counter where it had been kept warm, and ate it. It wasn’t the same though. I did not enjoy it as much as I should.
It is very unusual for the adhesion to fail. It has only happened three times since March. Given the pressure of the truss (shall we call it Liz?) and the strength of the adhesion, it just shows the power of the gut. I always thought the key action of moving food through the gut was peristalsis, but that is the action through the small intestine. Once it reaches the large intestine the contractions are called mass action contractions, and clearly there is no stopping them! They are supposed to happen between once and three times a day, often triggered by meals. I must remember to cut the number of times I eat, perhaps three times a day is sufficient. That might help with the ever-increasing number of kilograms indicated on the weighing machine here at the hospital every fortnight.
I still feel reasonably healthy. My side effects consist of a little diarrhoea, along with the wife suggesting I am a little more stylish and a little tidier than I was. People keep saying that I look healthier than I did when I was well, which I am not sure whether it is a compliment or an indication that I have spent most of my life looking pretty rough.
I know this thing is going to kill me, and I know I could drop any time from healthy to dead, but at the moment I am quite optimistic that I am going to last a good long time. I have ambitions. My NHS car is due in November, my book is out in January, and I don’t get my state pension for nearly seven years. I want them all.
My symptoms at the moment? The biggest one is tiredness. This seems to build up to a peak a few days after chemo is completed, but never really goes away. No doubt it is related to me getting up for several hours in the middle of the night. Never mind. It is manageable. My PICC line is a bit irritating. I keep wanting to scratch around it, and I am always fearful I am going to knock it and cause damage. It does mean I don’t want to go anywhere busy where people might knock into me such as a city – but then I never wanted to go to cities. Ghastly places. Also, I must take more care over eating (see above), but I have developed a sweet tooth. I also get aches and pains across my abdomen, which I suppose is where the psychological element comes in. I assume it is tumours growing and bashing around inside me, but of course it is probably the changes relating to the chemo. One significant change is the failure of memory. I forget words. I forget what I have read and seen. I forget people. But then, I always have done these things. It is just worse than it was, and it probably explains me being repetitive in my blogs.
What I don’t have, apart from memory changes, are any significant psychological problems. Look on, for instance, the MacMillan website and cancer appears to be all about psychological problems. My problems are body-related. I have cancer. I don’t need psychological problems as well. I will come back to this in a later blog.
Let’s face it. Apart from being stuck with chemo for three days every fortnight, three days that I wipe out in terms of achieving anything, I am doing pretty well. I am stronger and fitter. I can do a bit of gardening, go for short walks, drive for miles, and I am back to winding up the people around me. I intend to continue in this vein for some time.
Dr Nigel Hunt 