Chemo, test results, a dog in disguise

Okay, so chemo four passed without much incident. And quickly. I was home by 1.30 in the afternoon – asleep by 3.00 and throwing up violently and noisily by 6.00. Only the second time in four sessions that I’ve had to throw up (though as I type I feel queasier than might a fat kid being force fed a vegetable on a roller coaster)

Have in front of me the results of CAT and PET scans and they’re excellent. It says so in the summary – the vast majority of the cancer gone (even the large mass in my chest), no signs of anything new and just two spots left to kill – both between my right lung and rib. This represents ‘an excellent response to therapy” – hurrah!

Of course I now have a minor chest infection (I refer again to The L Word and Dana) so I’m taking antibiotics for the next ten days.

Still I’m in better shape than the dog. Health wise she’s fine but Jude chose my being incapacitated as a sign from the doggy Gods that she should set about Velcro with a pair of electric clippers. The result? Well she’s more sheep then dog now, has a face that looks as uneven as Roger Ebert’s and the occasional ‘Adam Ant’ stripe where the clippers got away from Jude a little. Had Velcro come back from the groomer looking like this we’d have sued… as it is Jude is claiming that she looks ‘adorable’ in a way that only a mother or the culpable can.

Hoping that my ‘ad man’ glasses are back today. Went in to collect them last week only to find that the left lens was so far off I couldn’t see through it. The glasses are an attempt to ‘rock the chemo look’ in a way that makes me appear more hipster and less tragic old goat. They may of course have the opposite effect – giving me the Gary Glitter in that Vietnamese court look – a look for which he could have been tried and convicted separately.

And on that unpleasant note I shall attempt to eat a yoghurt. Amazing how a couple of bags of poison in your system can turn your life into an edition of Fear Factor.

Chemo IV - revenge of the revenge's revenge

So all PET and CAT scanned up (no celebs yesterday) I'm ready for the fourth of what should be 6 chemo sessions... and for some reason I'm up ridiculously early. The place doesn't open until 9 - but it's bright and sunny outside and our blinds are more decorative than functional so I'm up - full of wheat, banana and yoghurt and ready to go.

I also hit Disc 4 of Deadwood today; so I'm right on track with that too. Forgot / couldn't be bothered to charge the DVD player so of course I'm now going to have to unplug Ethel just for her power socket. If Ethel's family are reading - she died for a noble cause - Ian McShane was on a foul mouthed rant that REALLY couldn't be missed.

Actually when I say 'ready to go' I mean slubbing around in a foul dressing gown (I just can't find a new one I like) surrounded by animals and holding a cup of tea in my lap (an accident waiting to happen)

PET and CAT scan results at least a week away - you'll 'll know when I do.

Robert Altman

Went for my PET scan yesterday (radioactive suger, a nice lay dow, too much Enya) and found myself sharing a changing room with the delightful Robert Altman.

Yes THAT Robert Altman.

Had a conversation that I was tempted to turn into an audition, he told me the history of the hospital and its buildings and then we went off to our different machines.

He looked great, was a real gent and I wish him all the best going forward...

Of course I shall be carrying my movie screenplay with me at all times from here on in.

Big up for Ella G

So my niece, Ella G, was born this morning... the first day of spring.

Weird to have a niece (my brother is 25, lives in box room in my parents’ house and has Middlesbrough FC bedspreads and wallpaper – so you can imagine just how weird his being a dad seems)

Of course if this was a soap opera someone would have to die – soaps always do births and deaths in the same episode, unless it’s a teen pregnancy in which case they do the hard assed mom / granny melting when she holds her 14 year old daughter’s baby. I know I don’t live in a soap but have looked both ways before crossing the road.

Anyway freshly flush from having paid off every credit card and medical bill with a combination of tax refunds, quarterly bonuses and Jude’s consultancy money I decided that every baby needs to know that life is full of good things – and headed off to Tiffany. I have to say that the ground floor was rather unimpressive, but the guy calling the floors in the elevator was just solemn enough and the bizarrely accented women in the baby section sucked up delightfully. Ten minutes, a couple of hundred bucks and a nice sit down after entering - baby Ella G was the proud owner of a classic silver Tiffany rattle. Blue box, white ribbon and all.

It’s odd to think that Jude and I are pretty certain not to have kids. First there’s the very real issue that I might be dead soon. An issue that people want to skirt, that they avoid by pointing out that I’m tolerating chemo well, looking much better and generally not acting like dead man walking. Statistically though the most likely ending to this little adventure is my dying sooner rather than later.

Of course I might live and then there’s the equally real chance of relapse – would I want to have a kid only to check out on them before they’re five – leaving Jude holding baby, a menagerie of animals and not very much money at all.

Then there’s the fact that neither of us is in the prime of youth, that chemo damages fertility and that we both rather like the ability to get up and do whatever we want without a thought (that’s called selfishness, isn’t it?)

The thing is, we really love the life we have. So maybe kids were never on the cards and this whole rant is nothing but melancholy.

I do hope that I get to meet little EG though. I want to tell her that despite everything she might see on the news and read in the newspapers the world is an amazing place just waiting for her exploration – that it’s full of sights, people and adventures yet to be discovered. I want to tell her that she’s unique and amazing and that the world is richer for her having entered it. And to let her know that she can be anything she wants to be, love anyone she wants to love and do anything that she wants to do. I just want to tell her that she has wings and that she needs to use them. I’d like to be around to help that happen.

Busy few days ahead on the disease front. PET scan tomorrow, CAT scan Thursday, Chemo Friday and Monday… Have started to lose the feeling in my finger tips – and to get the dry cough that I was told would start around chemo III. It’s sad just how closely I stick to ‘typical’ when it comes to side effects; still it’s proof that I’m not on the placebos (or is it?)

Enough of this, I’m knackered, the dog needs out and the Amazing Race is in Moscow.. time to get this ass into gear.

Slow Days

Slow days these but with two tests, a round of chemo and 'the moment of truth - will he survive?' coming up the next week should be interesting. Scans Weds and Thurs, chemo Friday... hopefully bringing new stories, some fresh emotion and a cast of minor but colorful characters...