Walking wounded

As predicted,"my chiropractor" sorted out my locked ankle which has improved my walking, although both ankle and leg swelled considerably but without increased pain.

The weekend away proved a tonic for both Lynne and I , a sort of break from hospitals and grimness.

Family ties re confirmed.

Journey South

With no intergalactic hospital appointments for the weekend ( they trust me to take my chemotherapy tablets at home ) we have planned a getaway and change of scenery by way of seeing "my" chiropractor in London, visiting old friends and staying overnight with my son and future wonderful daughter-in- law.

My leg has improved considerably over recent days but my ankle seems locked, something I am hoping my chiropractor will improve. 

I am unsure about a wi fi connection down South so there may be a one day lapse, or maybe not

Musical journey

The key moment tracks mentioned yesterday are not, in themselves, good or bad, they just happened to be around for key events in my life. I once compiled a life story tape ( prior to cd's ) for an aunt living in Canada, purely based on musical tracks, but with explanations, which, at the time, she and I were very proud of. I have since lost the only copy I ever made, but don't have the time or inclination to repeat the exercise. However, I am always happy for friends to mention an event in my life in return for a track title.

I have retinal screening at my GP's this morning just for a change of routine. All diabetics have an annual eye check by the NHS to spot any retinal changes early. Back to reality in the afternoon when I return to the inter-galactic Leicester hospital for routine radio therapy.

The treatment was routine with no hiccups although it knocked me for 6 and I slept through what was left of the afternoon at home.

To give you popaphiles  an interesting exercise I will now list artists relevant to incidents in my life, to whom you may be able to add a track. These are in no particular order:  Chris Montez. Joe Brown.

Beatles. Abba. Pink fairies. Hawk wind. Cat Stevens. Melanie. Marianne Faithful. Linda Lewis. Rolling Stones. Yardbirds. Jefferson Airplane/Starship. Eagles. Rod Stewart. Animals. kinks. Neil Diamond. Troggs. Simon & Garfunkel. Yazoo. Eurasure. Alison Moyet. The Who. Snow Patrol. Dolly Parton. David Bowie. Radiohead. Led Zeppelin. Bob Dylan. Everything but the girl. Walk off the earth. Dire Straits. Bread. John Denver. Buddy Holly. Joan Baez.  Etc. etc.

Back to earth

Amazingly managed to stay awake until the end of the Arsenal v Hull match. Not that it was boring (far from it) but it finished around 22.00, well past my bed-time these days. I went to bed relatively pain-free and slept until 04.00, quite a good night by my current standards. Arsenal won 2. O and remain top of the Premier league, by the way. Following yesterday's fiasco consultation I have devised a cunning plan  for post-treatment , but obviously it will remain secret as it is quite radical. Regaining control of my brain for the remainder of my life is the aim but there are a number of hurdles to overcome first.

I have discovered my taste buds and sense of smell have wained, common side effects of chemo treatment.

The rhino was very lively this morning, due to very high winds. A non-cruising day.   In fact it is positively gale force. The marina phoned to say Tardis Two is ok but the marina has Atlantic waves, no boats moving.

Radiotherapy went smoothly as usual from where we popped upstairs to the chemo unit to collect my chemo and sickness tablets as arranged yesterday. And guess what. Not only had they lost my notes but also my tablets !!!!!   Chaos ensued until the sister authorised a new prescription for my tablets, which were issued. Today I am a nonentity in the chemo department.

I am still having my ups and downs moments, not greatly helped by events at the hospital, or by Smooth Radio which seems to play "trigger tracks" on a regular basis whilst I sit in traffic. I relate all major events in my life, good or bad, to music.

"Bad" equals tracks like: The sound of silence.  Homeward bound.   There's a place.   Wild horses.

"Good" equals:  Hotel California.      Stairway to Heaven.   ( 12 string guitars, remember?)

Another planet?

Radiotherapy went well and quickly as usual these days,despite me arriving early following yesterday's foul-up. They are a great group of people.  The consultation went well in a bizaar way . I asked if chemo would end the same time as radio. The answer was he could not say. I then asked when it was likely to end. The answer was he could not say.  

I then stupidly asked how a decision will be made to stop chemo and what criteria would be necessary? The asst oncologist merely licked his index finger and held it in the air. For non-UK residents this sign means "Christ knows" and not the driving signal meaning "swivel on that".  All informative stuff, eh?

We left wondering who was on another planet, him or us. The jury is out.

Guantanimo Bay

I refuse to call what's happening to me an illness, more an invasion. This is bad enough to take, but the treatment is far worse. They tell you one of the side-effects is sleepiness, but fail to add the ability to stop you sleeping, a fact confirmed by other patients. You feel sleepy all day, only to go to bed early and not be able to sleep. An extra problem unique to me is my leg wound ache also refuses to sleep. Not an ideal situation. Now I am off those enormous doses of painkiller, enough to knock-out a rhino, the occasional paracetamol , fails to reach the same levels of pain relief.      Everyone has good and bad experiences in life, me more than most I guess, but the combination of the treatment and what is left of my brain seem able to recall and graphically edit together the bad in my dreams, whether I am asleep. Or awake.   I am told the functions of the zapped parts of my brain will eventually be undertaken by others.  A sort of multi-tasking.  I am writing this at 1.00 in the morning before attempting to achieve real sleep again.

Having already suffered water torture by being forced off Tardis Two earlier than planned I feel I am going through the entire Guantanimo Bay gambit.  What next? I'm innocent, honestly.

Talking of torture, at least I know once all this treatment is completed that will be the end of it, but there is no such hope for thousands of Spurs fans as they watch Arsenal winning game after game by large margins ( apart from against Spurs, strangely ). However, a change of allegiance and a short bus ride could quickly cure their problem and they will then be able to enjoy an hour and a half of their lives per week.

I was supposed to have a full day at the hospital today with radiopherapy treatment and a chat with the consultant. Similarly tomorrow but this time with the chemo consultant, who happens to be the same guy. Today, after treatment, a blood test and a long wait they announced they woul combine the two consultations tomorrow.   All those wasted letters and our preparations, for what?

Once again piss-up and brewery spring to mind, but we're lumbered with them to the bitter end (excuse the pun).

Piraña

Not a good weekend, with yesterday either spent in bed asleep or in the bathroom. It is fair to say these chemo tablets do not agree with my stomach or my stay -awake brain cells. My last chemo treatment (over 20 years ago) resulted in a dramatic loss of weight to the point where I could have fallen into a piraña-infested lake and walked out an hour later looking much the same. A discussion with the oncologist is planned. 

Back to hospital for my "routine" radiology treatment today. My memory is starting to work in a stranger way than normal,whereby I try to remember a name or an object, only for my mind to be totally blank at the time, but whatever I was trying to remember unexpectantly appears in my memory  hours or days later in neon, uninvited

Very quick radiotherapy session today. In, bang crash wallop and out within ten minutes.

It is time for me to consider the future of my hair. (Which one? I hear you ask). This treatment is guaranteed to cause fallout.  Go for the total baldie look? Or a wig? The Sir Bobby Charlton and Jimmy Saville looks are both no no's, as is Wayne Rooney. Sir Clff Richard?  Rod Stewart. Ziggy Stardust. Art Garfunkel.  Any further suggestions?