Cancer 50
Posted on June 7, 2023 Leave a Comment
A few years ago a very good book on traumatic stress was written by Bessel van der Kolk, who works in Boston (Massachusetts, not Lincolnshire). It is called The Body Keeps the Score, and is well worth a read. The fundamental point of the book is that when negative things happen to you these are remembered by the mind/body, and these can be then expressed as traumatic stress or PTSD. Van der Kolk discusses the techniques that can be used to effectively deal with these problems.
The body keeps the score in many ways. We all know this. It is certainly not just about traumatic stress. The old phrase life fast die young has meaning, not that I would claim to have lived fast, though I think the latter is a near certainty (yes, I am saying 60 is young. Deal with it). I used to smoke in my teens and twenties. I used to drink more alcohol than I should. I love red meat, bacon and sausage, along with black pudding, haggis, and most other forms of processed meat. I have never been a drug taker apart from in my teenage years the odd bit of cannabis (about five times in total perhaps) and a few years of seasonal magic mushrooms, where I tended to double up with each dosage, so fortunately the season was short. I have never, to my knowledge, seen cannabis or heroin. As with most people there have been a number of other risky activities in my life. Nevertheless, my risk count seems to have added up and indicated that it is time for me to have cancer (and heart disease). The body keeps the score. Inevitably there are other factors, such as genetics and personality, but the score probably matters.
I have always known about the risks involved with some of these activities, but as a youngster I was, like most people, immortal, and by the time I realised I was mortal all the bad habits had set in. There is often a disjuncture between when we know and what we do. It is probably a problem associated with the way the mind works. How would I know, I am just a psychologist? Why do so many people (traditionally mostly men) know what they should eat and how they should behave but do the opposite? What is wrong with us? Presumably the common assumption is that it will happen to others, otr that it will happen in a distant future when it won’t matter. There is also plenty of evidence that we are poor at using risk and probability in everyday life. And bacon is delicious.
This talk of body and mind suggests a classic Cartesian dualist perspective, where the body functions independently of the mind, and the mind itself has separate elements. Dualism is at one level utter nonsense because the brain – generally acknowledged to be the seat of the mind (I said I was a psychologist) – is just another bodily organ like the liver or the heart; but at another level the body and the mind appear to be functionally distinct, with the mind being partially conscious and, it appears, partially non-conscious, and there is often conflict between various elements, which may explain risky behaviour.
As a glass half full person my conscious mind is largely concerned with the positive aspects of life and the non-negative aspects. I try to live my life in a satisfactory and enjoyable way, taking an interest in what I and those around me do, reading good books, and admiring the countryside. I sometimes fail. I am sometimes anxious, I am sometimes depressed, but it rarely lasts for long. A good rule of life is to enjoy the positives for a long time and ensure the negatives are brief. Football is a good example for me. As a fair weather supporter of Derby County and England, as I watch a match I will be suitably enthusiastic, and if they win I will enjoy the pleasure of that for a day or two. If they lose, then I will be down for about five minutes, and then forget about it. It doesn’t matter, and what is the point of negative thinking? It is a good strategy for football and it is a good strategy for life. Unfortunately, it does not always work this way.
The other day I drove through the Highlands of Scotland, which has two fundamental pleasures for me (apart from being with the wife), being in a beautiful place and driving; but cancer got in the way. As I was driving I started thinking that this is likely to be the last time I drive here because I will soon be dead. This stopped my enjoyment of both the scenery and the driving. This sort of thing is usually momentary, but on this occasion it lasted for minutes before I knocked it out of myself. I do wonder if this is going to be an increasing problem, like the growth of my tumours. I will have to fight it.
The body might keep the score, but I don’t have to constantly take notice of that score, especially as the world is such a beautiful place.
Cancer 48
Posted on June 4, 2023 Leave a Comment
Neville Shute’s On the Beach is a great book, if somewhat flawed about the impact of radiation after a nuclear war. If there is anyone out there who hasn’t read it (and that should be rectified immediately) then it is based around a set of characters living in and around Melbourne – the Australian one, not the Derbyshire one (the former was named after the latter, as Lord Melbourne, from Melbourne in Derbyshire, was Prime Minister to Queen Victoria at the time Victoria became a state). Radiation from a nuclear war in the northern hemisphere has been gradually heading south. It has killed every living thing in the north and is doing the same in the south.
The book follows a number of people who are dealing with the inevitability of death, some coping well, some less so. One person drives in a no holds barred race where several drivers are killed. Others turn to alcohol (for some there isa a cellar to be finished off). Some, including the hero’s wife, are in extreme denial. As the cities of northern Australia go silent and the people die, they are said to be ‘out’. Throughout the book there are frequent reports about how the radiation is gradually but inexorably heading south, how it will inevitably kill everyone. A submarine is sent north to see if anything has changed. The Golden Gate bridge is down, there is random radio chatter from Seattle, but it turns out to be a window banging in the wind. The submarine checks the far north to see if the radiation is decreasing and there is any chance for humanity. It isn’t, and there isn’t. It is the end of the world.
Having cancer which is going to kill you has some of the same qualities of the book, the knowledge of certain death, the wondering what to do with the remaining time, learning to cope, being unable to cope. No doubt some people turn to alcohol – I haven’t, though I have started drinking alcohol free alcohol which, due to my neurotic turn of mind, I believe is getting me pissed. Some people go into denial. I don’t. I am fully aware that in a relatively short time I am going to be dead. Unlike the characters in On the Beach I have no certainty about the timing, but currently I have rotten backache and I now assume all pains are associated with the growth of tumours. The only treatment available in On the Beach is drugs for suicide. I hope I will have access to something similar when the time comes – as I have said before, I have a fear of pain, not death.
The main difference between On the Beach and terminal cancer is that the rest of the world will carry on once you are dead, and will quickly forget you. That is a good thing, both carrying on and forgetting, and I am happy that the world will continue rather than be ravaged by the radiation resulting from a large scale nuclear war. There is one small problem though. In the back of my mind, and the back of my mind has many ugly compartments nowadays, hoarding thoughts and feelings that are not altogether positive, though it is better than having them in the front of my mind. In the back of my mind there is a jealous thought. I am jealous that you will all continue to live after I have died. I also have a selfish thought. Why can’t we all die together as in On the Beach? Of course, I do not mean these things. I am not really jealous (not much anyway), and I am not that selfish – not at all. The thought just passed through my head as I was writing this. It just goes to show that while analogies may be a useful tool when examining and attempting to explain the nature of the world, they can be wrong.
Still, On the Beach is a good book. Read it, even though I have given the end away. They all die, just as we all do in real life.
Cancer 47
Posted on June 3, 2023 Leave a Comment
We are on holiday in a lovely place, the island of Seil in western Scotland. It is an area where even I, a sea hater (it smells, it is wobbly, it is flat, it makes me seasick, it drowns people, it is full of fish piss, it is noisy), like the sea here, as it is usually enclosed by views of islands rather than the flat featureless and dangerous place it usually is. The weather is wonderful, bright sunshine, long days; there are midges but they are not causing too many problems.
Inevitably, as this is our last holiday before my chemo starts, there are reminders regarding how well I am not. Last night was the most spectacular stoma explosion yet. I will spare you the details but remember those images of the emergence of Surtsey from the Atlantic in the 1970s, with lava flying around? I have eaten too many meals, large meals, in the last few days. It is difficult when staying in hotels, as it is compulsory to have the fried breakfast, and then a three course evening meal. I have learned to avoid eating too much in the day but it is not enough. Now we are at the holiday cottage it should be easier. I am cutting down on my intake. Last night we shared a single chicken breast last night (with haggis of course). No pudding. No first course. Give the stoma a chance to settle.
As I live now it is often the small things that cause a twinge of hurt. One of the essentially meaningless things we do when we are on holiday in a nice place is to imagine living there. We pick the house we want, and just generally chatter about it. Don’t all couples have their own sense of meaningless meaning? We were doing this yesterday and it gave me that twinge of hurt. While our past conversations were not particularly serious, they did have an underlying element that if we suddenly came into money (eg one of my books turned into a best seller), perhaps we could retire and move to one of these places, whether it was France, Spain, Scotland, the Lake District, Ireland, etc. There was a sense of possibility, however remote. Now when we have a similar conversation there is no chance of such a move. Even if my newest book, Applied Narrative Psychology, which is due to be published in January 2024 for those of you desperate to buy a copy, sells a million we won’t be moving, even if I am still alive. As it is an academic book with a price of about a billion pounds even for the paperback I very much doubt it could become a best seller. That sense of no future is what gives the twinge of hurt. I can still talk about such things but there is something missing from inside me.
Back to reality. Today I feel the sun on my face, the birds are singing, earlier my bare feet wandered across the spongy dewy grass, I watched a deer pass through the garden, and I am looking at a very calm stretch of the Atlantic Ocean – really a narrow stretch of water separating the island from the mainland connected by the Bridge over the Atlantic a few hundred metres north of here. We only have three full days here before returning home so I can start my treatment. I must make the best of these days as there is a fair chance of this being my final holiday. Must? Nonsense. If I start thinking like that, like every day is my last good day then I may as well die now. I like sitting around doing nothing, essentially wasting my time, why should I start rushing around fulfilling that non-existent bucket list just because I have cancer?
Even if this is not my last holiday, in the future (such as it is) I will inevitably think each holiday is my last, so why am I wasting my time writing this bloody blog? I am off to read a book.
Cancer 46
Posted on June 1, 2023 Leave a Comment
Someone suggested my last blog was too long, so in a spirit of appeasement I have decided to do a shorter one.
Cancer 45
Posted on May 31, 2023 1 Comment
Instead of talking about cancer all the time I am going to focus this blog on my current holiday; basically, what I did on my holidays. I am 8 years old again, writing for my primary school teacher. It is going to be very current. I am currently sitting at a table looking out over Loch Melfort. It is a sea loch, which is terribly dangerous because if you go on it you will be washed out to sea and drown. Fortunately there are islands in view so I don’t have to look at the open sea, the type of view that I like. The open sea is depressing. It is bright sunny weather. Other people are sitting out in the sun but I can no longer do so comfortably.
As I am in the (hopefully long) process of dying I might start putting down a few of my views while writing about my holidays. I couldn’t care less if any of them are controversial. It doesn’t matter any more. I even got into trouble recently on Facebook for suggesting that tattoos are ugly and that they ruin beautiful skin. I ended up with around 400 likes and around 800 comments, usually negative, often about my name, which is weird because I have heard every criticism of my name so many times it is just boring (take 5 minutes. How many insults can you derive from ‘Nigel’ and ‘Hunt’? It is an easy win).
Yesterday we drove up the A1M. It was cloudy and looked like rain. We stopped at Barnard Castle for tea an cake and a wander around the castle with no visual jokes. We crossed the Pennines on the A66 and immediately it was sunny and warm. I am saying nothing about the advantages of the west over the east. To the west we stopped at Penrith, where I ate pie, peas and gravy, something at its best west of the Pennines, in Lancashire and Cumbria. I also found a good book on Marx. In our increasingly individualistic society where everyone gets upset by the views of everyone else and anyone can be anything we need a good dose of neo-Marxism to reignite the socialist cause. I worry about the Me2s (is that an early Messerschmidt?), the woke, BLM, the outspoken representatives of various minority groups acting in an ever more fascistic manner, refusing to allow people to have diverging views, calling simple opinions hate speech and arguing that everyone (except straight white males) should be represented everywhere. My current favourite is the absurd idea that a man can become a woman. That is nonsensical. It is not possible to reverse biology that has been in place since conception. If a man wants to dress as a woman and act as a woman then good for him. We live in a free society, but please do not argue that he is actually a woman. It makes little difference if there has been surgery. Removing a penis and testicles and somehow creating a hole where the vagina is in a woman is not turning a man into a woman. And don’t get me on to the way some children are treated. It is quite normal for an adolescents to question their sexuality. It should be a crime to use drugs to alter puberty. No to men in women’s toilets and no to men competing in women’s sports. The term transwoman is OK, except I have to think twice re whether this is a man claiming to be a woman or a woman claiming to be a man. How about transvestite? Why can’t we just stop talking about it and let people live as they wish as long as they are not hurting others – and by that I mean really hurting, not saying things that some people are offended by. We have forgotten that sticks and stones may break my bones but calling doesn’t hurt me. Hitler was offensive; J.K. Rowling is not.
We need to treat people equally in the sense that there should be equlity of opportunity, not that we are all the same nor that we can all do anything if we put our mind to it. Some people are brighter, people have different talents, we look different, we have different states of health, etc. People should not be at a disadvantage because they are a particular sex, race or disability, etc, but there are limits. I understand that, as a disabled person, I will in law get privileges if I apply for certain jobs. This too is absurd. I am weak and dying. What use am I going to be over the long or even the medium term for any employer? A ramp up some steps will help people confined to a wheelchair and enable them to do their job more effectively. There is nothing anyone can do to make my disability disappear or to make me ‘equal’ to other employees. We need to get a better sense of reality regarding who can be helped and who can’t.
Last night, the first night of the holidays, we stayed in a Scottish hotel. Many Scottish hotels look like they are from the 1970s. This is also true of Northern Ireland and Wales. This is not a criticism. I like it. Everything is neat and tidy. Is it something to do with being Celtic (I have questions about the legitimacy of the concept of ‘Celt’ but I will leave that for now)? Or perhaps it is the Presbetarian mentality. But while the hotels can look dated the food can be amazing. Last night I had haggis spring roll with a peppercorn sauce dip as a starter. It was superb. The wife had chicken with haggis. Superb.
The village we stayed in was the birthplace of Thomas Carlyle, essayist, novelist, etc. I tried to read his work on the French Revolution but failed to complete it, but that was years ago. Perhaps I should try it again re my focus on long books. Carlyle suggested that the main rule of all life is that life is ruled by inequality. Find the best man and let him rule the country. This should not be an hereditary title, but someone chosen by a group of learned people. Forget democracy, most people are not fit to vote, as we found with Brexit. Carlyle talked a lot of heroes and introduced the term captains of industry, suggesting that positive developments in history occur because of the actions of great men. Carlyle is rather unpopular at the moment, but given the state of democratic society perhaps he has a point, but who decides who selects the leader of the country? It can’t be worse than the current method, where the ‘democratic’ focus appears to be on the incompetent, the insane, the crippled (yes I can use that term because I am crippled), and so on.
Carlyle is buried in the village churchyard, as is Napoleon’s last doctor on St Helena.
I am trying to improve my diet as my chemotherapy starts soon and I ought to give myself at least a chance. The problem is, the barn door is open and some might suggest it is a little late. Anyway, I have resolved to eat more fish and chicken, and less red meat and processed meat. So for breakfast this morning I included the tomatoes that I usually reject in my fry-up. Apparently tomatoes are good for you in a fried breakfast. I particularly enjoyed the haggis, bacon and sausage. For lunch we went to the Loch Fyne restaurant – the real one, on Loch Fyne, where I had haddock chowder. It had bits of bacon in it and I couldn’t find any haddock but I meant well. Tonight we are on the shores of Loch Melfort, I have looked at the menu and will do my damnedest to have fish for at least one course, but there is venison.
When we set out yesterday we had a little disagreement where it was suggested that I was a little strong in my views on the incompetence of people who regularly reverse out of driveways. I said that this was in the Highway Code but I couldn’t remember exactly where. Later I looked it up. Rule 201 states ‘Do not reverse into a main road from a side road. When using a driveway reverse in and pull out if you can.’ The last phrase is not there to give people an excuse. It is there because there are always exceptions to rules. My view may have been strong, but it was right. If you are guilty of this then please stop it right now. I might become the next Carlyle-style ruler. I think I am the right sort of person.
Dr Nigel Hunt 