but this is what I come home to most days... a bewildered looking dog, a mass of visible wires and a rug that still smells of India despite constant beating (it didn't work on Jude either)
have to say I love it here
Friday, June 16, 2006
Half way through radiation
Today marks the half way stage in radiation and so far so good. I have a bit of a cough, sore ankles and the arches of my feet are murder in the mornings but other than that I'm pretty good. Treatment is much more jovial than chemotherapy - lots of laughter, lots of chat with the nurses. I guess seeing people daily helps, as does not having to hand them a bucket to throw up in whilst you try not to burst their veins as you inject poison.
Chemo did make me realize just how easy, how varied and how effective torture could be. There are a thousand ways to inflict pain on somebody and their bodies have a response distinct from their brains. I for one was determined not tp throw up during the 'orange gloop' stage. I prepared, I ate nothing. I breathed deep. I thought verdant forests of unusual fecundity. Then I saw orange and threw up. Imagine if it had been electrodes on the bollocks.
Anyway radiation is far from torture. Though the heat might be torture this weekend - the last weekend of spring has temps at 32C and us at a polo match. If the heat don't get ya the horsiness will.
Aircon still placed in the living room window (too close to the fire escape but what the hell, there's no-one above us and it doesn't block our exit) and it's working, Last year we obeyed the law, put the aircon in the bedroom window and sweltered, never again!
And on that emphatic punctuation I shall leave you. Bon Weekend.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Another day, another session
On my way to radiation yesterday I found a great little pub, full of old ladies, young navvies and slumming business men all trying to make sense of the World Cup whilst eating vast portions of very wel battered fish.
It was a day for overheard conversations
"Of course the Tunisians should be good. I've heard that the Eastern Europeans practice 18 hrs a day"
"Europe has to be 6 hrs behind us, if it was 6 hrs ahead we'd not be eating lunch"
And then, loudly, in the waiting room of the doctor's surgery
"I've maxxed out two credit cards on this and I'm not maxing out another. We should have let your mother die years ago, 'cause she has the money and she's not sending any our way"
Radiation going okay. First signs of a sore throat today, but nothing major and a doctor who seemed very happy with my progress through the sessions to date.
I even managed to get a phone number out of one of the nurses - must be the newly and rapidly growing hair
It was a day for overheard conversations
"Of course the Tunisians should be good. I've heard that the Eastern Europeans practice 18 hrs a day"
"Europe has to be 6 hrs behind us, if it was 6 hrs ahead we'd not be eating lunch"
And then, loudly, in the waiting room of the doctor's surgery
"I've maxxed out two credit cards on this and I'm not maxing out another. We should have let your mother die years ago, 'cause she has the money and she's not sending any our way"
Radiation going okay. First signs of a sore throat today, but nothing major and a doctor who seemed very happy with my progress through the sessions to date.
I even managed to get a phone number out of one of the nurses - must be the newly and rapidly growing hair
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Eve of Destruction
So far so good on the radiation front, no major side effects, no major reactios, no real fatigue. I see the doctor today (just because it's Wednesday) so doubtless today's session will take forever and involve more blood than a Hammer slasher movie but so be it.
Construction started on one of the FIVE new condo blocks going up around us; well destruction did, they're knocking down the original building and are having a noisy old time of it.
Still the weather is good for them - it's 27 today and will gain 1C every day for the next week, so at least there's the prospect of topless workmen at whom we can whistle (it confuses them) to look forward to.
Have tickets for the US Open tennis, a sofa arriving today, the dog at my feet and a British commentator on the football today - life is good
Construction started on one of the FIVE new condo blocks going up around us; well destruction did, they're knocking down the original building and are having a noisy old time of it.
Still the weather is good for them - it's 27 today and will gain 1C every day for the next week, so at least there's the prospect of topless workmen at whom we can whistle (it confuses them) to look forward to.
Have tickets for the US Open tennis, a sofa arriving today, the dog at my feet and a British commentator on the football today - life is good
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Work, work, work
I really do want to go back to work proper - rather than the hanging around the office hoping to catch snippets that I might be able to help with version of work that I'm doing at the moment.
Went in yesterday and started snapping the Smirnoff team for a LIVESTRONG series that I'm hoping will be something that I can print, frame and auction for 'Lance's lot'
Anyway more radiation today, a talk with a dentist (the teeth not in great shape but can't do any major work until after the radiation for fear of infection and prolonged bleeding), the Brazil match, a talk with some people who (flatteringly) might want to employ me and then dinner with the people who do.
So almost an average day
Went in yesterday and started snapping the Smirnoff team for a LIVESTRONG series that I'm hoping will be something that I can print, frame and auction for 'Lance's lot'
Anyway more radiation today, a talk with a dentist (the teeth not in great shape but can't do any major work until after the radiation for fear of infection and prolonged bleeding), the Brazil match, a talk with some people who (flatteringly) might want to employ me and then dinner with the people who do.
So almost an average day
Monday, June 12, 2006
How's this for scary?
There was a line in 'The L Word' that struck home with me. As Dana lost her hair to radiation and weight to nausea she said "I'm not sick, I'm disappearing"... I haven't felt that way - and yet I look at this and all I can see where she was coming from - only the 'face furniture specs' give me any features
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Remember when this was a cancer blog?
I thought that it was about time that I talked about cancer, or lack thereof again.
I've said this a lot over the past few months but my impressions of cancer treatment were entirely shaped by made for TV movies and the tabloid press.
'FIGHT' was the word that came to mind when it came to cancer.
Cancer was something against which celebrities 'Bravely Battled.' Treatment was a private war, fought out of sight of the world - usually with an unhappy conclusion.
Weirdly though the reality has been altogether gentler. It's not about fighting at all, but accepting. Not about being brave but being optionless. Not revelatory but rather mundane.
The reality of cancer treatment is that it's routine. A routine of visitations, treatments and pills. Marks and milestones on calendars.
The reality of cancer is that it changes nothing. Other than your ability to function. You don't come out of the other side a better, wiser or different person. You come out a balder, heavier, more scarred and more tattoo'd person (well in my case)
But there's nothing brave or pugilistic about it. Sure your routine changes but that's about all.
Will I be a kinder person moving forward? Probably not. Will I be more empathetic - probably. I've met and talked with a lot of people over the past 8 months. They've shared stories with me, a stranger, that they wouldn't with their families and friends (precisely because those people care) and I've witnessed too much warmth to not have been affected.
I'll be better at my job. I'll think more about the future (knowing that people will survive you puts you in a position of wanting to make the transistion to surviving alone as comfortable as possible), I'll talk more and I'll listen more intently.
Perhaps then I am changed. Just not violently. But then the violence of cancer treatment really does seem to be a TV movie fiction.
I've said this a lot over the past few months but my impressions of cancer treatment were entirely shaped by made for TV movies and the tabloid press.
'FIGHT' was the word that came to mind when it came to cancer.
Cancer was something against which celebrities 'Bravely Battled.' Treatment was a private war, fought out of sight of the world - usually with an unhappy conclusion.
Weirdly though the reality has been altogether gentler. It's not about fighting at all, but accepting. Not about being brave but being optionless. Not revelatory but rather mundane.
The reality of cancer treatment is that it's routine. A routine of visitations, treatments and pills. Marks and milestones on calendars.
The reality of cancer is that it changes nothing. Other than your ability to function. You don't come out of the other side a better, wiser or different person. You come out a balder, heavier, more scarred and more tattoo'd person (well in my case)
But there's nothing brave or pugilistic about it. Sure your routine changes but that's about all.
Will I be a kinder person moving forward? Probably not. Will I be more empathetic - probably. I've met and talked with a lot of people over the past 8 months. They've shared stories with me, a stranger, that they wouldn't with their families and friends (precisely because those people care) and I've witnessed too much warmth to not have been affected.
I'll be better at my job. I'll think more about the future (knowing that people will survive you puts you in a position of wanting to make the transistion to surviving alone as comfortable as possible), I'll talk more and I'll listen more intently.
Perhaps then I am changed. Just not violently. But then the violence of cancer treatment really does seem to be a TV movie fiction.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Jude and her books
if ever you need to find Jude - have a little sniff of the air for the smell of dusty book jacket - then follow the scent. The woman is surrounded by books 24/7 - it's all very late 19th century.
One week into radiation
One week into radiation and the hair is growing stronger as the teeth grow weaker (another one chipped yesterday)... mind my eyebrows are BLIUE.
Bing (my nurse, I know - nursed by an 80's gaming sound effect) had warned me of both; not much I can do to influence either. Mind if the mouth REALLY dries, threatening the teeth, then it's time to swap spit with an android and go to 'artificial saliva' (yum)
Not much to report here, still bald, still fat, still making it unaided to the radiation sessions (walked from 14th to 72nd yesterday).. let's hope it stays thay way
Bing (my nurse, I know - nursed by an 80's gaming sound effect) had warned me of both; not much I can do to influence either. Mind if the mouth REALLY dries, threatening the teeth, then it's time to swap spit with an android and go to 'artificial saliva' (yum)
Not much to report here, still bald, still fat, still making it unaided to the radiation sessions (walked from 14th to 72nd yesterday).. let's hope it stays thay way
Friday, June 09, 2006
Ah the World Cup
the World Cup starts today - hurrah!
A chance to be misguidedly and fleetingly patriotic, jingoistic, xenophobic and ultimately disappointed.
A chance to wear 'replica' shirts of scratchy Nylon, to sing offensive songs and to openly sneer at the rest of Europe.
A chance to hang a flag without seeming American, for the middle class to behave in what they imagine to be working class fashion - all loutishness, gutteral consonants and beery homo-erotica.
A chance for the newspapers to dust off their best puns, for the TV networks to besy off their best pundits and for the supermarkets to sell off their nest Punjabi Vindaloos.
Unless of course you live in the US - where it's a chance to rediscover ESPN2 - home of International Paintballing and the World Soccer Cup
Pah!
A chance to be misguidedly and fleetingly patriotic, jingoistic, xenophobic and ultimately disappointed.
A chance to wear 'replica' shirts of scratchy Nylon, to sing offensive songs and to openly sneer at the rest of Europe.
A chance to hang a flag without seeming American, for the middle class to behave in what they imagine to be working class fashion - all loutishness, gutteral consonants and beery homo-erotica.
A chance for the newspapers to dust off their best puns, for the TV networks to besy off their best pundits and for the supermarkets to sell off their nest Punjabi Vindaloos.
Unless of course you live in the US - where it's a chance to rediscover ESPN2 - home of International Paintballing and the World Soccer Cup
Pah!
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Where's the Sun?
After a May that was all sun we're now into a wet, gray and miserable June. Weather guys keep forcasting a break two days hence, but it seems that the sun is always two days away.
This makes the schlep up to the hospital (and it is a schlep; the Upper East side is a schelp even in resident's language) all the more frustrating.
Still at least the torrential rain has stopped; it's cold though (16C) ruining my plan of 4 weeks in the sun, with the dog, during radiation.
This makes the schlep up to the hospital (and it is a schlep; the Upper East side is a schelp even in resident's language) all the more frustrating.
Still at least the torrential rain has stopped; it's cold though (16C) ruining my plan of 4 weeks in the sun, with the dog, during radiation.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
How's radiation?
"How's radiation" seems to be the question of the week. To which the flippant answer is "It's three minutes of high powered toxicity attacking your DNA" but that answrs a different question and anyway I'm not one for flippancy. I don't even like dolphins.
So - radiation is surprisingly timely (they run EARLY). It's surprisingly informal (I've already given up on the changing room in favor of stripping in the equipment room) and it's unbelievably quick (I can be in and out of that place in the time it takes Rachel Ray to whip up a merengue - I know this because the TV in reception is switched to the food network
Side effects will build up as the radiation takes hold and should include irritate sunburned skin, a sore throat, lack of saliva (there go my few remaining teeth) and possible nausea.
The secondary cancers are something that tend to come much later. Well, later.
Administration is simple. Check in with mumbles the male receptionist, settle into your book, get startled by Creeping Moses - the nurse who makes no sound until she coughs "Mr Walls?" into your ear. Up onto the table, head in the mold they made of you, on with the laser guide, a little time being slid from position 'A' to position "A.0" and then everyone leaves, the giant phone receiver hums, the stars on the ceiling glow a little brighter and you're ready for the 15 minute walk back to the subway station (that takes in what we've dubbed 'the Cancer Cafe'; a coffee shop full of worried looking parents and their bald children)
And that's it. Easy, easy, so far very easy.
It'll get harder.
So - radiation is surprisingly timely (they run EARLY). It's surprisingly informal (I've already given up on the changing room in favor of stripping in the equipment room) and it's unbelievably quick (I can be in and out of that place in the time it takes Rachel Ray to whip up a merengue - I know this because the TV in reception is switched to the food network
Side effects will build up as the radiation takes hold and should include irritate sunburned skin, a sore throat, lack of saliva (there go my few remaining teeth) and possible nausea.
The secondary cancers are something that tend to come much later. Well, later.
Administration is simple. Check in with mumbles the male receptionist, settle into your book, get startled by Creeping Moses - the nurse who makes no sound until she coughs "Mr Walls?" into your ear. Up onto the table, head in the mold they made of you, on with the laser guide, a little time being slid from position 'A' to position "A.0" and then everyone leaves, the giant phone receiver hums, the stars on the ceiling glow a little brighter and you're ready for the 15 minute walk back to the subway station (that takes in what we've dubbed 'the Cancer Cafe'; a coffee shop full of worried looking parents and their bald children)
And that's it. Easy, easy, so far very easy.
It'll get harder.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Quick planning vent
Most of the planners I work with either want to be the client (‘I wanna be the brand manager on this’) or want to hide behind the voice of a third and fourth parties (‘research says that consumers don’t want to hear that’). And both attitudes drive me mental.
So here, for those who care, are the six things that I’d demand of a department were anyone brave enough to hand one over to me.
1) Planners should be experts in advertising
They should know how it works, be able to map and model it, to diagram it and they should be perceptive enough to abandon all of those things when they see magic rather than logic
2) Planners should know what people care about
And know what they could be made to care about – and what they’re going to care about next
3) Planners should be Babelfish
Able to talk to anyone, knowledgably and at the other person’s level – and then be able to translate what they learned when they talk to the next person. There’s no point in having an idea if you can’t express it
4) Planners should have a point of view
Their own point of view, not a 3rd party point of view or a cocktail party point of view. Planners shouldn’t be afraid to start sentences with “I think…” or “I believe”
5) Planners should be masters of the hook up
They should be clued into popular culture, they should know what’s happening, who’s making it happen and how to rope those people in to help.
6) Planners should make a difference to the work
They should be judged on the quality of the work not the cleverness of the plan. A planner whose thoughts live only in powerpoint is a planner that’s adding nothing.
Okay – so it’s all very simple, obvious stuff. But simple and obvious is what’s missing from most planning departments.
So here, for those who care, are the six things that I’d demand of a department were anyone brave enough to hand one over to me.
1) Planners should be experts in advertising
They should know how it works, be able to map and model it, to diagram it and they should be perceptive enough to abandon all of those things when they see magic rather than logic
2) Planners should know what people care about
And know what they could be made to care about – and what they’re going to care about next
3) Planners should be Babelfish
Able to talk to anyone, knowledgably and at the other person’s level – and then be able to translate what they learned when they talk to the next person. There’s no point in having an idea if you can’t express it
4) Planners should have a point of view
Their own point of view, not a 3rd party point of view or a cocktail party point of view. Planners shouldn’t be afraid to start sentences with “I think…” or “I believe”
5) Planners should be masters of the hook up
They should be clued into popular culture, they should know what’s happening, who’s making it happen and how to rope those people in to help.
6) Planners should make a difference to the work
They should be judged on the quality of the work not the cleverness of the plan. A planner whose thoughts live only in powerpoint is a planner that’s adding nothing.
Okay – so it’s all very simple, obvious stuff. But simple and obvious is what’s missing from most planning departments.
Ali's birthday
after yesterday's self indulgent post I thought that I owed you a picture of the birthday girl.
I do like this new camera
I do like this new camera
Monday, June 05, 2006
Happy Birthday - again!
Another evening another birthday party – this time not too far from the house in a tiny restaurant blighted only by the dead rat on the sidewalk directly outside.
Good crowd of people. Bosnian film makers, jewelry artists, a great guy who’d tried and failed to dye his own hair and Ali – our ‘friend in New York’ who has been great at coming out to Williamsburg throughout this whole cancer malarkey (she’s also possessed of great wit with great tits to match)
Eclectic menu as well as eclectic company – our table had everything from Spiced African Chicken through to an Elvis Sandwich (fried bread, peanut butter, fried banana – not alas battered bits of The King)
It feels weird not only to be out and about again but to be amongst interesting people. More than anything I’ve missed character and cultural currency. The chance to talk issues of the day (Dutch soldiers and their failure to do their job in Bosnia; Angelina Jolie, caesarian and herpes) with people who have something to say. Sure YouTube is fun, but there’s only so much adolescent nihilism that a man should have to stomach.
Radiation treatment? So far so good. Fast, painless, efficient. Switzerland then. And like Switzerland the nasty underbelly will reveal itself at a later date.
Enough of this inane rambling. Have to put together a proper proposal for ‘Last Shot’ ahead of pitching the idea to some ‘TV execs’ and have some ideas for how Progressive Insurance could actually BE progressive in more of their products (not that anyone has asked me for the latter, but hey you call yourself Progressive and you open yourself up to suggestions)
BTW if the people responsible for the tacked on ending of ‘The Break-up’ do the all too thinkable and follow it with ‘The Make-Up’ I will do a Ronnie Biggs and up sticks to Brazil.
Good crowd of people. Bosnian film makers, jewelry artists, a great guy who’d tried and failed to dye his own hair and Ali – our ‘friend in New York’ who has been great at coming out to Williamsburg throughout this whole cancer malarkey (she’s also possessed of great wit with great tits to match)
Eclectic menu as well as eclectic company – our table had everything from Spiced African Chicken through to an Elvis Sandwich (fried bread, peanut butter, fried banana – not alas battered bits of The King)
It feels weird not only to be out and about again but to be amongst interesting people. More than anything I’ve missed character and cultural currency. The chance to talk issues of the day (Dutch soldiers and their failure to do their job in Bosnia; Angelina Jolie, caesarian and herpes) with people who have something to say. Sure YouTube is fun, but there’s only so much adolescent nihilism that a man should have to stomach.
Radiation treatment? So far so good. Fast, painless, efficient. Switzerland then. And like Switzerland the nasty underbelly will reveal itself at a later date.
Enough of this inane rambling. Have to put together a proper proposal for ‘Last Shot’ ahead of pitching the idea to some ‘TV execs’ and have some ideas for how Progressive Insurance could actually BE progressive in more of their products (not that anyone has asked me for the latter, but hey you call yourself Progressive and you open yourself up to suggestions)
BTW if the people responsible for the tacked on ending of ‘The Break-up’ do the all too thinkable and follow it with ‘The Make-Up’ I will do a Ronnie Biggs and up sticks to Brazil.
In the words of Frankie Goes To Hollywood
"Hit me with your lazer beam"
Yup; it seems that years as a miserable pleader have finally paid off... the hospital has agreed to treat me today.
It will mean much sitting around, much bad karma (as I pray for a cancellation - c'mon granny don't wake up) and too much time in a hospital 'gown' but I will get tested today and I will get zapped.
Treatment I think will be like that scene in Dr. No (was it Dr. No?) as the laser heads up between his open legs and towards his crotch
"Do you expect me to talk?"
"No Mr Bond, I expect you to die."
Hurrah!
Yup; it seems that years as a miserable pleader have finally paid off... the hospital has agreed to treat me today.
It will mean much sitting around, much bad karma (as I pray for a cancellation - c'mon granny don't wake up) and too much time in a hospital 'gown' but I will get tested today and I will get zapped.
Treatment I think will be like that scene in Dr. No (was it Dr. No?) as the laser heads up between his open legs and towards his crotch
"Do you expect me to talk?"
"No Mr Bond, I expect you to die."
Hurrah!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Cool new features
My new camera has some very cool new features, so when I saw these women having a red themed picnic it seemed rude not to try one of them out.
Have a call in to the doctor's office tomorrow at 9.30 (I'll try to hold off until 9.45) and then a 'final test' appointment at 3pm.
Hoping that they'll buy off on one of my two options
1) Finish the treatment in June
2) Start the treatment in mid-July
But kinda resigned to that not happening - just not going to voice missing my vacation as a viable option.
We'll see if they bite - here's hoping that they do
Have a call in to the doctor's office tomorrow at 9.30 (I'll try to hold off until 9.45) and then a 'final test' appointment at 3pm.
Hoping that they'll buy off on one of my two options
1) Finish the treatment in June
2) Start the treatment in mid-July
But kinda resigned to that not happening - just not going to voice missing my vacation as a viable option.
We'll see if they bite - here's hoping that they do
We went to a party last night
We went to a party last night; it felt very strange being able to dance (not well you understand but to jig about in a breathless making fashion) and to drink (though my tolerance level is very low these days)
Actually it just felt weird being healthy amongst normal people. Radiation might dampen that for a while but only for a while... 'tis good to be alive.
Actually it just felt weird being healthy amongst normal people. Radiation might dampen that for a while but only for a while... 'tis good to be alive.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Does my face look fat in this?
Hoping that the face is looking less swollen now that the steroids are being flushed out of my system.
Excuse the 'if Christine Keeler had been a lesbian' pose - I was trying a 'Tara Banks' 'Look Fierce (tm)'' move
Excuse the 'if Christine Keeler had been a lesbian' pose - I was trying a 'Tara Banks' 'Look Fierce (tm)'' move
News of the day
As I said the new camera is in and it has one hell of a zoom on it (optical zoom *12)
This means that nobody is 100% safe from my prying lens now and that I can - at last - have sweet revenge on the world for making sick, bald and stupid enough to book a vacation only 2 months after chemo
This means that nobody is 100% safe from my prying lens now and that I can - at last - have sweet revenge on the world for making sick, bald and stupid enough to book a vacation only 2 months after chemo
An upturn in the day?
Well my camera arrived - voyeuristic pics to follow.
And I talked to the hospital. They can do nothing until Dr Sherr is back and he's not back until Monday.
I have a final 'test' on Monday at 3pm - but no treatment.
"Not right" I wailed, I want this thing over by the end of June.
"Ah" said nice woman at the end of the phone "Leave it with me, there's nothing I can do without the Dr's approval, but let me see what I can sort out with him on Monday. It might be that we can squeeze in a treatment - though it would be a first. Or it might be that we can squeeze the number of sessions. Though that's not for me to say. Call me Monday at 9.30."
So it's another weekend of bitten nails and murmering from me. Jude might just kill me.
And I talked to the hospital. They can do nothing until Dr Sherr is back and he's not back until Monday.
I have a final 'test' on Monday at 3pm - but no treatment.
"Not right" I wailed, I want this thing over by the end of June.
"Ah" said nice woman at the end of the phone "Leave it with me, there's nothing I can do without the Dr's approval, but let me see what I can sort out with him on Monday. It might be that we can squeeze in a treatment - though it would be a first. Or it might be that we can squeeze the number of sessions. Though that's not for me to say. Call me Monday at 9.30."
So it's another weekend of bitten nails and murmering from me. Jude might just kill me.
Looks like a 'no go'
When I was at the hospital the doctor talked about a 20 day radiation treatment starting Monday June 5th
I was elated, this meant that I could go on vacation at the end of treatment as planned.
The hospital was supposed to call me yesterday with a schedule of treatment, times of day and the like.
They didn't.
I called them today and I'm not on the schedule.
And with my doctor away it doesn't look as though I'm going to be on the schedule. Losing even a day means running into the July 4th holiday and not ending treatment until July 6th. Buggering my vacation plans entirely.
To say that I'm upset would be the most massive understatement. I'm distraught.
Have an e-mail in to the doctor (he's been out for 2 days), a call into the head of radiation oncology and a heart that's leaden.
Everything crossed here, but it's looking futile.
I was elated, this meant that I could go on vacation at the end of treatment as planned.
The hospital was supposed to call me yesterday with a schedule of treatment, times of day and the like.
They didn't.
I called them today and I'm not on the schedule.
And with my doctor away it doesn't look as though I'm going to be on the schedule. Losing even a day means running into the July 4th holiday and not ending treatment until July 6th. Buggering my vacation plans entirely.
To say that I'm upset would be the most massive understatement. I'm distraught.
Have an e-mail in to the doctor (he's been out for 2 days), a call into the head of radiation oncology and a heart that's leaden.
Everything crossed here, but it's looking futile.
"Feed Me"
Woke up this morning to the not too distant hum of a blog in need of feeding. Thing is I have no real news. Hospital didn't get back to me yesterday and responded to my call with a curt "Call us tomorrow"... my camera has yet to arrive (though th eaccessories have)... work is pretty much just work and Jude and I have done little out of the ordinary all week
Here's hoping that today brings news of dates (I HAVE to start on Monday); an Amazon.com package and a fabulous party to attend.
More news when I get it on treatment
Here's hoping that today brings news of dates (I HAVE to start on Monday); an Amazon.com package and a fabulous party to attend.
More news when I get it on treatment
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
It shouldn't be allowed
Lying in hospital?
(Adopt Kenneth William's Carry On Doctor series nasal whine here)
"OUTRAGEOUS!"
I have no idea what this sign is about but it stands next to the front door of the radiation dept.
(Adopt Kenneth William's Carry On Doctor series nasal whine here)
"OUTRAGEOUS!"
I have no idea what this sign is about but it stands next to the front door of the radiation dept.
Ray of Hope
After much wrangling, pleading and general bloody mindedness I managed to get the hopsital to agree to up each does of radiation, thus reducing the number of sessions from 23 to 20.
This represents a session every weekday in June starting Monday June 5th.
All I need now is confirmation of a place for me starting Monday June 5th.
That should (fingers crossed) come in the next 48 hrs.
Session today was cool. The made a mold of my upper body, marked me, tattoo'd me (no Jewish burial for me) and sent me, mold and markings for a CT scan.
Lovely people, cool machinery, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and no Enya
This represents a session every weekday in June starting Monday June 5th.
All I need now is confirmation of a place for me starting Monday June 5th.
That should (fingers crossed) come in the next 48 hrs.
Session today was cool. The made a mold of my upper body, marked me, tattoo'd me (no Jewish burial for me) and sent me, mold and markings for a CT scan.
Lovely people, cool machinery, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and no Enya
Black Armour?
Had a really bad night last night.
A strange combination of an incredibly hot and sticky bedroom (must buy second aircon), a newly squeaky bed (must tighten screws) and worry about missing a vacation that I should, perhaps, not have booked conspired to keep me awake
If it comes down to it I'll miss the vacation, foreit the money and suck up the treatment.
But that's not the point, I booked this thing not as a vacation but as a symbol; something in the future to which I could look forward. A date on the calendar that didn't have attached to it a list of possible side effects. And now it looks as though the whole thing might just disappear; that I'll spend the July 4th weekend not on a beach somewhere but at home, waiting for more treatment as the people who administer that treatment disappear on vacations of their own.
It feels not as though I'm going to miss a vacation but a desecration of a symbol of hope.
This is, I know, a very petulant argument; booking the vacation was always a gamble, after all I was supposed to be dead by now. I'm also sure that it's not something over which to lose sleep - but I am.
Off to be fitted for a foam 'suit' this morning, the being CT scanned in that 'suit' (it's really a template into which I'll be placed for every treatment) before being tattoo'd with the markings they need to focus the radiation.
Tattoo'd?!? - there goes my chance of being buried in a Jewish cemetery
Enough of this, need to walk the dog, take a shower and head for the hospital - where I shall fight viciously to get my way on dates.
More later
A strange combination of an incredibly hot and sticky bedroom (must buy second aircon), a newly squeaky bed (must tighten screws) and worry about missing a vacation that I should, perhaps, not have booked conspired to keep me awake
If it comes down to it I'll miss the vacation, foreit the money and suck up the treatment.
But that's not the point, I booked this thing not as a vacation but as a symbol; something in the future to which I could look forward. A date on the calendar that didn't have attached to it a list of possible side effects. And now it looks as though the whole thing might just disappear; that I'll spend the July 4th weekend not on a beach somewhere but at home, waiting for more treatment as the people who administer that treatment disappear on vacations of their own.
It feels not as though I'm going to miss a vacation but a desecration of a symbol of hope.
This is, I know, a very petulant argument; booking the vacation was always a gamble, after all I was supposed to be dead by now. I'm also sure that it's not something over which to lose sleep - but I am.
Off to be fitted for a foam 'suit' this morning, the being CT scanned in that 'suit' (it's really a template into which I'll be placed for every treatment) before being tattoo'd with the markings they need to focus the radiation.
Tattoo'd?!? - there goes my chance of being buried in a Jewish cemetery
Enough of this, need to walk the dog, take a shower and head for the hospital - where I shall fight viciously to get my way on dates.
More later
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Radiation
Saw the radiation oncologist today - he was chatty and charming and thinks that I should have 23 sessions of radiation as 'just in case' insurance.
That would be fine but it would also take me to July 8th - 6 days after my vacation was due to start.
Three options then
1) We start after my vacation
This shouldn't be a problem, but will need clearing my the chemo' oncologist as some cancers respond best to radiation if radiation starts between 4 and 8 weeks after chemo. Lymphoma isn't on the list of those cancers, but we'd still need to check.
2) We squeeze the radiation
Into 21 doses, starting this Friday. Again possible but would need everything to run like clockwork - and very little does these days
3) I miss my vacation
I miss the vacation - losing the money that we've paid as a 'stupidity tax' for booking so close to the end of chemo.
I have to go in tomorrow - they need to make a foam mold of my body, to CT scan me in the mold and to markme up (tattoo me) for radiation.
They should also have a schedule for me tomorrow.
Fingers crossed
Steve
That would be fine but it would also take me to July 8th - 6 days after my vacation was due to start.
Three options then
1) We start after my vacation
This shouldn't be a problem, but will need clearing my the chemo' oncologist as some cancers respond best to radiation if radiation starts between 4 and 8 weeks after chemo. Lymphoma isn't on the list of those cancers, but we'd still need to check.
2) We squeeze the radiation
Into 21 doses, starting this Friday. Again possible but would need everything to run like clockwork - and very little does these days
3) I miss my vacation
I miss the vacation - losing the money that we've paid as a 'stupidity tax' for booking so close to the end of chemo.
I have to go in tomorrow - they need to make a foam mold of my body, to CT scan me in the mold and to markme up (tattoo me) for radiation.
They should also have a schedule for me tomorrow.
Fingers crossed
Steve
Monday, May 29, 2006
Out on a walk
Went for a walk today and came across this 'ghetto madonna'
Not sure why I like this pic as much as I do, but I do like it
Not sure why I like this pic as much as I do, but I do like it
Memorial Day
Well Memorial Day is here and with it 30C weather. It feels a lot hotter actually – thank god for air conditioning.
Actually the fact that I’m worried that this year our air-con is placed illegally over the fire escape (we still have a clear exit, there’s nobody above us and no roof access to the building so it shouldn’t be a danger) is a sign of both how far I’ve come (I used to worry about how much blood I was spraying into the bread basket at brunch) and how little I’ve moved (an absolute obsession with a single subject)
Yesterday was fun, spent at a BBQ discussion just how Memorial Day is different to Veteran’s Day, why / whether the last remaining piece of the World Trade Centre (a staircase) should / shouldn’t be preserved and of course listening to how 12mpg around town in your SUV isn’t THAT bad. Interesting people, great weather and good food.
Of course commitment to the BBQ meant that I didn’t get to drive down to Fire Island and meet up with some friends there. A shame, I really want to see Fire Island and don’t get to spend nearly enough time with Alex, K-Jizer et al. Still post chemo I’m too pale for the beach and post steroids too fat.
No real plans for today. Just started a book (Prep) that seems a little heavier than I’d been expecting so that might take up more time than planned and we have to see X-Men III, if only because everyone else in the world has. It was the second biggest first day of all time (behind the final Star Wars Movie). Jude and I saw that movie almost by ourselves in a tiny cinema in the Bahamas. Just about a year ago I’d guess.
Radiation oncologist tomorrow.
Actually the fact that I’m worried that this year our air-con is placed illegally over the fire escape (we still have a clear exit, there’s nobody above us and no roof access to the building so it shouldn’t be a danger) is a sign of both how far I’ve come (I used to worry about how much blood I was spraying into the bread basket at brunch) and how little I’ve moved (an absolute obsession with a single subject)
Yesterday was fun, spent at a BBQ discussion just how Memorial Day is different to Veteran’s Day, why / whether the last remaining piece of the World Trade Centre (a staircase) should / shouldn’t be preserved and of course listening to how 12mpg around town in your SUV isn’t THAT bad. Interesting people, great weather and good food.
Of course commitment to the BBQ meant that I didn’t get to drive down to Fire Island and meet up with some friends there. A shame, I really want to see Fire Island and don’t get to spend nearly enough time with Alex, K-Jizer et al. Still post chemo I’m too pale for the beach and post steroids too fat.
No real plans for today. Just started a book (Prep) that seems a little heavier than I’d been expecting so that might take up more time than planned and we have to see X-Men III, if only because everyone else in the world has. It was the second biggest first day of all time (behind the final Star Wars Movie). Jude and I saw that movie almost by ourselves in a tiny cinema in the Bahamas. Just about a year ago I’d guess.
Radiation oncologist tomorrow.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
An experiment
I get more hits looking for "Paris Hilton Sex Tapes" than I do anything else here. Most of them seem to be from either Saudi, the American South or college campuses anywhere. Of course being a hits whore I quite enjoy the traffic, so please forgive the little honeytrap below... I needed to do something to keep idle hands occupied while waiting to see the radiation oncologist on Tuesday.
It was only when I saw Paris Hilton's soaking wet pussy being licked by Jessica Simpson's wet beaver that I realized, American celebrities really don't know how to look after their pets. You'd think that after Brad Pitt had been caught spanking his monkey in public (the poor animal) that people like Lindsey Lohan would know better than to leave her bearded clam out in a cereal packet - which was soon turned by the torrentioal rain into nothing but a wet box. Anyway, disgusted I thought that I'd write to the President, before realizing that the President might not read my letter - so I wrote to his no. 2. Cheney. I love Dick. And I know that Paris Hilton loves Dick too. If I could only get hold of dick I might be able to get into Paris's head. Obviously I wouldn't ram Dick down her throat, I'd tried that with Laura Bush and it hadn't worked. If Paris Hilton didn't respond to bush when being spanked over allowing her pussy to get so wet then maybe Paris Hilton would respond to Dick. Who knows?
Let's see how many hits that gets and where they come from - will let you all know;
It was only when I saw Paris Hilton's soaking wet pussy being licked by Jessica Simpson's wet beaver that I realized, American celebrities really don't know how to look after their pets. You'd think that after Brad Pitt had been caught spanking his monkey in public (the poor animal) that people like Lindsey Lohan would know better than to leave her bearded clam out in a cereal packet - which was soon turned by the torrentioal rain into nothing but a wet box. Anyway, disgusted I thought that I'd write to the President, before realizing that the President might not read my letter - so I wrote to his no. 2. Cheney. I love Dick. And I know that Paris Hilton loves Dick too. If I could only get hold of dick I might be able to get into Paris's head. Obviously I wouldn't ram Dick down her throat, I'd tried that with Laura Bush and it hadn't worked. If Paris Hilton didn't respond to bush when being spanked over allowing her pussy to get so wet then maybe Paris Hilton would respond to Dick. Who knows?
Let's see how many hits that gets and where they come from - will let you all know;
Friday, May 26, 2006
My 'All Clear' gift
Jude decided to buy me a post treatment 'all clear' gift. And I have to say that it's rather fabulous. With a 12*optical zoom it'll be just perfect for 'arresting' pics of the hairs up our neighbor's hooter.I do like this being well again malarky - GIFTS!
Still knackered
I may not have cancer anymore but I'm still knackered - from the treatment, from being 35, from walking, from expectation, from the waiting, the wondering and the google searching.
But mainly from walking the dog for miles every day in this heat.
So not doing very much of anything today - which is just fine by me
But mainly from walking the dog for miles every day in this heat.
So not doing very much of anything today - which is just fine by me
Thursday, May 25, 2006
I'm Boring
"You're Boring" said Doctor McSpecialist
"Your scans are clear"
And with that I am no longer "Cancer Boy"
No more tumors, no more lung rot, no more bouts of bloody coughing, no more chemo.
Done.
Clear.
I still have to see the radiation oncologist on Tuesday - as radiation therapy is usually recommended for people who where stage III / bulky mass or worse; but it's radiation as insurance not last ditch at cure.
Rather an anti-climax; but a warm, fuzzy and somewhat squishy anti-climax.
Let y'all know what comes next as soon as I do
"Your scans are clear"
And with that I am no longer "Cancer Boy"
No more tumors, no more lung rot, no more bouts of bloody coughing, no more chemo.
Done.
Clear.
I still have to see the radiation oncologist on Tuesday - as radiation therapy is usually recommended for people who where stage III / bulky mass or worse; but it's radiation as insurance not last ditch at cure.
Rather an anti-climax; but a warm, fuzzy and somewhat squishy anti-climax.
Let y'all know what comes next as soon as I do
Results day?
Today is supposed to be the day that I get the results of my PET and CT scans.
Somehow I very much doubt that this will prove to be the case.
Yesterday's CT scan took a mind (and arse) numbing 5 hrs to get through as a combination of broken machinery, short staffedness (it's Memorial Day weekend) and 'mediacal emergencies' clogged up the corridor in which I was asked to take near permanent resisdence. Had I spent much longer there I'd have needed to a visa, I swear.
Why they have a plush waiting room and yet insist that all CT patients wait for their scans in a draughty corridor I have no idea.
Still the cast of characters kept me amused.
Old Mr Grace - must have been about 97 - in years and lbs. He was ambulatory only with the help of a walker that looked like a half dalek and a nurse that looked like a half amazon. His trips to the bathroom were frequent and lengthy; his walk to the CT machine held me up by another 20 minutes and he never spoke. Not even to say "You've all done terribly well"
The Drinker - was a dark haired, jewish woman in her 50s. She didn't stop talking. Primarily because she'd turned up late for her appointment and was told that she was now at the back of a LONG line, but also because she's overheard one of the nurse's say "oh god, The Drinker's back". This precipitated much pacing, muh repeating of both the late and drinker story and my favorite "I'm an x-ray patient, not a mental patient"
The Coffin Dodger - came in with her mustachio'd son. He looked, dressed and sounded exactly like the Simpson's earnest neighbor and seemed OUTRAGED that HIS mother had to wait. Especially as she'd left her oxygen in the car. A master of the audible sigh and meaningful look at the watch he became rather stiff in the shoulders having told me 'It's 4.15 pm, my mom has a 4.00pm appointment" and being told "Well mine's a 2.15 appointment and there are two people in line in front of me"
The drugged up mullet - came in as an 'emergency'. Walked as though in a stupor, spoke through thick lips with a thick accent, had a husband wearing a wife beater who sported 'I beat my wife' tattoos. Quite frankly everyone was astonished that they'd managed to park their trailer anywhere near the hospital - and that Jerry Springer didn't show up. 'Drugged Up Mullet' claimed it was only the 'Xanax' that was making her slow, dizzy and dozy (she couldn't open doors) - we believed it may have been genetic.
The Razor Hipped Ho - another emergency. Except she arrived in agony and left when there was a wait. Olive skinned, collogen lipped and wearing what my have been illegally tight jeans she sashay'd up and down the corridor wailing 'they said to come here' but left when her mom / pimp / mompimp turned up and demanded to know "Why you aren't at work, girl"
And finally The Must Obey Orders Frauline - a german woman in her early 70s who patroled the benches demanding that cell phones be turned off, that barium liquids were drunk at the stated intervals and that the hospital pay reparations for her delay.
It was a LONG wait, but I have to say that I (The Vampire?) rather enjoyed it
Somehow I very much doubt that this will prove to be the case.
Yesterday's CT scan took a mind (and arse) numbing 5 hrs to get through as a combination of broken machinery, short staffedness (it's Memorial Day weekend) and 'mediacal emergencies' clogged up the corridor in which I was asked to take near permanent resisdence. Had I spent much longer there I'd have needed to a visa, I swear.
Why they have a plush waiting room and yet insist that all CT patients wait for their scans in a draughty corridor I have no idea.
Still the cast of characters kept me amused.
Old Mr Grace - must have been about 97 - in years and lbs. He was ambulatory only with the help of a walker that looked like a half dalek and a nurse that looked like a half amazon. His trips to the bathroom were frequent and lengthy; his walk to the CT machine held me up by another 20 minutes and he never spoke. Not even to say "You've all done terribly well"
The Drinker - was a dark haired, jewish woman in her 50s. She didn't stop talking. Primarily because she'd turned up late for her appointment and was told that she was now at the back of a LONG line, but also because she's overheard one of the nurse's say "oh god, The Drinker's back". This precipitated much pacing, muh repeating of both the late and drinker story and my favorite "I'm an x-ray patient, not a mental patient"
The Coffin Dodger - came in with her mustachio'd son. He looked, dressed and sounded exactly like the Simpson's earnest neighbor and seemed OUTRAGED that HIS mother had to wait. Especially as she'd left her oxygen in the car. A master of the audible sigh and meaningful look at the watch he became rather stiff in the shoulders having told me 'It's 4.15 pm, my mom has a 4.00pm appointment" and being told "Well mine's a 2.15 appointment and there are two people in line in front of me"
The drugged up mullet - came in as an 'emergency'. Walked as though in a stupor, spoke through thick lips with a thick accent, had a husband wearing a wife beater who sported 'I beat my wife' tattoos. Quite frankly everyone was astonished that they'd managed to park their trailer anywhere near the hospital - and that Jerry Springer didn't show up. 'Drugged Up Mullet' claimed it was only the 'Xanax' that was making her slow, dizzy and dozy (she couldn't open doors) - we believed it may have been genetic.
The Razor Hipped Ho - another emergency. Except she arrived in agony and left when there was a wait. Olive skinned, collogen lipped and wearing what my have been illegally tight jeans she sashay'd up and down the corridor wailing 'they said to come here' but left when her mom / pimp / mompimp turned up and demanded to know "Why you aren't at work, girl"
And finally The Must Obey Orders Frauline - a german woman in her early 70s who patroled the benches demanding that cell phones be turned off, that barium liquids were drunk at the stated intervals and that the hospital pay reparations for her delay.
It was a LONG wait, but I have to say that I (The Vampire?) rather enjoyed it
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Shaved dog
Yup, Velcro got the summer shave and now looks like a retarded poodle.
Still I managed three laps of the park - during a local school's walk-a-thom with nary a cry of "Shaggy dog, it's the shaggy dog."
Blessed. blessed relief
Still I managed three laps of the park - during a local school's walk-a-thom with nary a cry of "Shaggy dog, it's the shaggy dog."
Blessed. blessed relief
PET Down, CAT today
PET scan went exactly to time yesterday.
All very efficient and everyone remembered me, perhaps I should be collectioning 'frequent scan points' - I must have enough for a toaster by now.
Da Vinci Code (Post PET 'treat') was like the movie version of 'Allo Allo' - lots of dodgy French accents and a search for a hidden treasure ('Leesen very carefully Pro-fizer, I zall say zees only wornce - where iz ze fallen Madonna wiv ze beeg boobies?')
CAT scan today - lots and lots of barium to drink. Lots of Iodine to be injected. Lots of post scan water to be drunk.
And then on to Billy Connelly ('Oh, j'ou bloody think so?) as post scan treat of the week.
Thursday results, then memorial weekend (and a BBQ) before Radiation oncologist Tuesday
All very efficient and everyone remembered me, perhaps I should be collectioning 'frequent scan points' - I must have enough for a toaster by now.
Da Vinci Code (Post PET 'treat') was like the movie version of 'Allo Allo' - lots of dodgy French accents and a search for a hidden treasure ('Leesen very carefully Pro-fizer, I zall say zees only wornce - where iz ze fallen Madonna wiv ze beeg boobies?')
CAT scan today - lots and lots of barium to drink. Lots of Iodine to be injected. Lots of post scan water to be drunk.
And then on to Billy Connelly ('Oh, j'ou bloody think so?) as post scan treat of the week.
Thursday results, then memorial weekend (and a BBQ) before Radiation oncologist Tuesday
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
An Alanis style 'irony'
Having managed to survive, without complication, all of the cancer drugs, poisons and 'experiments' thrown at me over the last 5 month I find myself having a rare (but not serious) reeaction to my over the counter allergy medication.
I'll keep taking it until after the scans - because it does work and my chest is clear; but the inability to pee is an unexpected and unwelcome side effect that will see me ditching it in favor of streaming eyes and hearty coughing by the end of the week
I'll keep taking it until after the scans - because it does work and my chest is clear; but the inability to pee is an unexpected and unwelcome side effect that will see me ditching it in favor of streaming eyes and hearty coughing by the end of the week
Monday, May 22, 2006
Not a huge amount to say here
It's cold out - which is a blessed relief as the recent warm weather brought large numbers of still untanned legs and deathly white breasts out onto the streets. You couldn't move for blue veined calves and Elvira like cleavage. Most unseemly.
Tests tomorrow and Wednesday - can't say that I'm looking forward to an hour spent in a corridor draining a glass of barium solution every ten minutes but c'est la via. An 'la vie' is what this is all about.
Last time I was there an old guy kept shouting
"I can't drink this, it's all too much"
To whit his wife replied
"You say that about drinking water at home, you've always been a whiner'
I'm always amazed at how people become so comfortable with their domestic dysfunction that they feel that they can play it out (loudly) in public.
The scans themselves are okay. The room is always freezing and a battery of doctors (is that the right term?) stand elevated and behind glass (is that symbollic?) no doubt catching glimpses up your gown and making disparaging remarks about the size of your spleen - I know I've been most evil when viewing people from behind a one way mirror - there's something about it that turns them into 'subjects' rather than real people.
PET scan takes a lot longer than the CAT scan - and involves laying down for an hour before being 'taken to the machine' but both are harmless.
Both though have a sticker, right next to the laser, that says in small print that you have to stare at to see 'do not look at the laser' - too late, I'm blind and about to be cut in half - Bond style.
Worst of all is visiting the oncologist. A long wait is punctuated by your being moved from waiting room to 'Suite' - then from 'suite' to consulting room, where you sit, usually for about 90 minutes, bored, cold and despairing as the doctor finishes off a plate of fois gras at his country club and meanders back to the hospital in his black German car.
Anyway lots of puff about nada
Time to wake up 'The Judith'
Tests tomorrow and Wednesday - can't say that I'm looking forward to an hour spent in a corridor draining a glass of barium solution every ten minutes but c'est la via. An 'la vie' is what this is all about.
Last time I was there an old guy kept shouting
"I can't drink this, it's all too much"
To whit his wife replied
"You say that about drinking water at home, you've always been a whiner'
I'm always amazed at how people become so comfortable with their domestic dysfunction that they feel that they can play it out (loudly) in public.
The scans themselves are okay. The room is always freezing and a battery of doctors (is that the right term?) stand elevated and behind glass (is that symbollic?) no doubt catching glimpses up your gown and making disparaging remarks about the size of your spleen - I know I've been most evil when viewing people from behind a one way mirror - there's something about it that turns them into 'subjects' rather than real people.
PET scan takes a lot longer than the CAT scan - and involves laying down for an hour before being 'taken to the machine' but both are harmless.
Both though have a sticker, right next to the laser, that says in small print that you have to stare at to see 'do not look at the laser' - too late, I'm blind and about to be cut in half - Bond style.
Worst of all is visiting the oncologist. A long wait is punctuated by your being moved from waiting room to 'Suite' - then from 'suite' to consulting room, where you sit, usually for about 90 minutes, bored, cold and despairing as the doctor finishes off a plate of fois gras at his country club and meanders back to the hospital in his black German car.
Anyway lots of puff about nada
Time to wake up 'The Judith'
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Considerably older than you
I’d always pictured my riding into old age on a chariot of over-enunciation, tales of the Raj and deep violet dressing gowns heavy with the yellow stench of good cigars.
I’d never really thought about the physical limitations that old age throws at you. And I suppose that old people don’t really think about them all either. Many of the symptoms of old age are so stealthy, so patient that you simply forget what it felt like to be fully functional.
But this treatment has brought the full force of old age to me with dread speed. My fingertips are numb – so I’m already fiddling (pensioner like) for change and with the lids of coffee cups. The drugs make it harder and harder to pee, demonstrating the effects of the swollen prostate most of us have in the future. The hair has gone – and suddenly hats litter the house as I try to combat the effects of sun upon shiny pate. My energy leaves not slowly, but all at once, like an elderly cell phone that can no longer hold a charge. And of course there’s the proximity of death; ever present, hovering just about my left shoulder and whispering a dark incantation.
No being old is not all it’s cracked up to be.
I think I’ll buy myself a motorbike and see if fate helps me escape the slow decline into doddery-ness.
I’d never really thought about the physical limitations that old age throws at you. And I suppose that old people don’t really think about them all either. Many of the symptoms of old age are so stealthy, so patient that you simply forget what it felt like to be fully functional.
But this treatment has brought the full force of old age to me with dread speed. My fingertips are numb – so I’m already fiddling (pensioner like) for change and with the lids of coffee cups. The drugs make it harder and harder to pee, demonstrating the effects of the swollen prostate most of us have in the future. The hair has gone – and suddenly hats litter the house as I try to combat the effects of sun upon shiny pate. My energy leaves not slowly, but all at once, like an elderly cell phone that can no longer hold a charge. And of course there’s the proximity of death; ever present, hovering just about my left shoulder and whispering a dark incantation.
No being old is not all it’s cracked up to be.
I think I’ll buy myself a motorbike and see if fate helps me escape the slow decline into doddery-ness.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
A better day
So after a day yesterday which saw pieces falling off my expensive vacuum cleaner, the doors falling of my murderously expensive Indonesian cabinets and my having to invest heavily in Kleenex tissues I wake up today to a message from the vaccum cleaner people 'bring it in, we'll exchange it' - an e-mail from the cabinet people 'e-mail pics we'll see what we can do' and no phlegm courtesy of Allegra (a fine drug)
Hurrah and Huzzah
Hurrah and Huzzah
Friday, May 19, 2006
All medicated up
Ok
I now have anti-biotics and allergy medication.
Need to dump both into my system as a CAT scan can't tell the difference between an area of infection (so any phlegm on your chest) and an area of cancer.
Want to clear this up before Weds then... cause I ain't doing 2 CAT scans, the barium is horrible.
Weird that I think that I'm dying, Jude thinks I have another chest infection (low white cell count, lots of people on the subway) and the hospital thinks that I have hayfever (the pollen count this wek has been 'extreme')
Gotta love perspective, dontcha?
I now have anti-biotics and allergy medication.
Need to dump both into my system as a CAT scan can't tell the difference between an area of infection (so any phlegm on your chest) and an area of cancer.
Want to clear this up before Weds then... cause I ain't doing 2 CAT scans, the barium is horrible.
Weird that I think that I'm dying, Jude thinks I have another chest infection (low white cell count, lots of people on the subway) and the hospital thinks that I have hayfever (the pollen count this wek has been 'extreme')
Gotta love perspective, dontcha?
Damn
Coughing like a maniac today
And spitting clear liquid into a million tissues again
Obviously something isn't right
Last time this happened it took 10 days of anti-biotics to clear things up
Hope that's the case again
have a call in to the hospital, waiting on a reply (and a prescription)
Let's see when they get back to me
And spitting clear liquid into a million tissues again
Obviously something isn't right
Last time this happened it took 10 days of anti-biotics to clear things up
Hope that's the case again
have a call in to the hospital, waiting on a reply (and a prescription)
Let's see when they get back to me
More movie Reviews
Amusing myself with writing more movie reviews
Da Vinci Code today which started with the line
"All you need to know about The Da Vinci Code is this - Tom Hank's hair isn't the worst thing about the movie"
As I said, amusing myself
Da Vinci Code today which started with the line
"All you need to know about The Da Vinci Code is this - Tom Hank's hair isn't the worst thing about the movie"
As I said, amusing myself
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Test schedule
Okay for those who need to know
I have a PET scan on the 23rd
I have a CAT scan on the 24th
I meet with my oncologist on the 25th
And I have a radiation oncology meeting pencilled in for the 30th
All systems are go
I have a PET scan on the 23rd
I have a CAT scan on the 24th
I meet with my oncologist on the 25th
And I have a radiation oncology meeting pencilled in for the 30th
All systems are go
Easily bored?
Throughout my adult working life I’ve been plagued by rumors that I’m ‘easily bored.’ Having not been bored since discovering The Internet, that my neighbors had no curtains and the relentless joys of masturbation I’ve taken great exception to this.
I’m not easily bored, I’m constantly exasperated.
You see I work in an advertising agency. Which these days means working with second string business graduates caught within the moldy confines of their own, MBA inspired, vocabulary.
It wasn’t always thus. There was a time when advertising agencies were full of fearsome, drug addled alcoholic maniacs prone to rage, violence and occasional moments of genius. Unable to hold down a job anywhere else in the world these men were a half Guinness away from being the urine stained guy that corporate clients stepped over as they left the theatre and looked nervously about for their on expenses Lincoln town cars.
And this was a good thing – because the deviants within an agency had very different ways of looking at the world than did the clients who paid for their thinking. And that’s what Lincoln town car ordering corporate clients wanted from advertising agencies. Fresh perspectives.
But somewhere in the 80s tings changed. Tight men with tight mouths and penchants for acronyms took over the advertising world.
HR people were hired, carpets turned a soul sucking gray and a knee grazingly hard wearing corduroy. Trousers turned a khaki beige and acquired neat creases. Good dentistry started to be the norm, swearing stopped being the norm.
Agencies started to look like their clients – who all looked like each other and profit margins started to shrink. When you have a plethora of identical companies offering identical services to identical clients price tends to become a bigger factor.
To compensate for this the acronym’d holding companies invested in advertising testing companies and demanded that all ads be tested – lest something damaging slip through the net.
Thus the identical agencies started to run their ideas through a hugely profitable marketing wind tunnel – and the ads, like the cars sculpted in a wind tunnel before them, all came out looking the same.
It was around this time that people stopped paying attention to the ads.
It was into this freshly minted hell that I fell. Head full of jingles, instant potato shilling aliens and naked, bald, fat orange men who might just give you a slap if you weren’t careful.
And here the exasperation started.
Exasperated at the number of times I hear the words ‘Out of the box’
Exasperated at having to explain that an ad’ featuring a 13 year old Romanian gymnast that ends with the words ‘full splits, crotch shot’ isn’t right for a brand whose tone is sophisticated, witty, more Noel Cowerd than Noel Edmunds.
Exasperated at the number of suits and identical hairstyles.
But worst of all exasperated to be in an industry where tasseled loafers still abound unpunished.
So these days upon hearing of plans to escape the dreaded box, or upon being slowly read a script that’s heading towards pre-pubescent snatch or approach by a tassel loafer’d suit I run for the hills.
Easily bored? No just in mourning for the industry we lost.
I’m not easily bored, I’m constantly exasperated.
You see I work in an advertising agency. Which these days means working with second string business graduates caught within the moldy confines of their own, MBA inspired, vocabulary.
It wasn’t always thus. There was a time when advertising agencies were full of fearsome, drug addled alcoholic maniacs prone to rage, violence and occasional moments of genius. Unable to hold down a job anywhere else in the world these men were a half Guinness away from being the urine stained guy that corporate clients stepped over as they left the theatre and looked nervously about for their on expenses Lincoln town cars.
And this was a good thing – because the deviants within an agency had very different ways of looking at the world than did the clients who paid for their thinking. And that’s what Lincoln town car ordering corporate clients wanted from advertising agencies. Fresh perspectives.
But somewhere in the 80s tings changed. Tight men with tight mouths and penchants for acronyms took over the advertising world.
HR people were hired, carpets turned a soul sucking gray and a knee grazingly hard wearing corduroy. Trousers turned a khaki beige and acquired neat creases. Good dentistry started to be the norm, swearing stopped being the norm.
Agencies started to look like their clients – who all looked like each other and profit margins started to shrink. When you have a plethora of identical companies offering identical services to identical clients price tends to become a bigger factor.
To compensate for this the acronym’d holding companies invested in advertising testing companies and demanded that all ads be tested – lest something damaging slip through the net.
Thus the identical agencies started to run their ideas through a hugely profitable marketing wind tunnel – and the ads, like the cars sculpted in a wind tunnel before them, all came out looking the same.
It was around this time that people stopped paying attention to the ads.
It was into this freshly minted hell that I fell. Head full of jingles, instant potato shilling aliens and naked, bald, fat orange men who might just give you a slap if you weren’t careful.
And here the exasperation started.
Exasperated at the number of times I hear the words ‘Out of the box’
Exasperated at having to explain that an ad’ featuring a 13 year old Romanian gymnast that ends with the words ‘full splits, crotch shot’ isn’t right for a brand whose tone is sophisticated, witty, more Noel Cowerd than Noel Edmunds.
Exasperated at the number of suits and identical hairstyles.
But worst of all exasperated to be in an industry where tasseled loafers still abound unpunished.
So these days upon hearing of plans to escape the dreaded box, or upon being slowly read a script that’s heading towards pre-pubescent snatch or approach by a tassel loafer’d suit I run for the hills.
Easily bored? No just in mourning for the industry we lost.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Easy money
There’s an old advertising cliché that insists that everybody involved advertising secretly has a screenplay tucked away in their bottom draw.
The cliché is that the screenplay will be their salvation – an escape from the crushing routine that goes into making of 30 second films that will be skipped, ignored and used as an indicator that it’s okay to run to the bathroom now.
An escape from commerce into art.
I don’t have a screenplay. It’s too much like hard work. Instead I have elevator pitch ideas for shows that I invariably see months later on television.
I really ought to try harder to sell them, here are the latest
Last Shot – American Idol for contestants between 30 and 45.
The twist? In addition to the auditions the judges have to go out and find half of the final 12 (in clubs, busking, on cruise ships, etc.) “Sponsoring” two contestants.
Every contestant has to have been trying to break through for at least 10 years
And we’re emotionally invested because unlike the kids on Idol… these guys don’t have years in front of them.
This is their Last Shot
Redemption
Apprentice style soulless business types are given the chance to perform Extreme Home Makeover style good deeds for ‘worthy families’
We get to see them evolve as people as well as cry with the families
The Pitch
Teams of four pitch against advertising professionals to come up with the best ideas on some of the biggest brands in America. We watch them at the briefing, working on original ideas, presenting to client and testing their ideas. Those who beat the professionals see their ideas made and win $250,000
Maybe I should flesh these out
The cliché is that the screenplay will be their salvation – an escape from the crushing routine that goes into making of 30 second films that will be skipped, ignored and used as an indicator that it’s okay to run to the bathroom now.
An escape from commerce into art.
I don’t have a screenplay. It’s too much like hard work. Instead I have elevator pitch ideas for shows that I invariably see months later on television.
I really ought to try harder to sell them, here are the latest
Last Shot – American Idol for contestants between 30 and 45.
The twist? In addition to the auditions the judges have to go out and find half of the final 12 (in clubs, busking, on cruise ships, etc.) “Sponsoring” two contestants.
Every contestant has to have been trying to break through for at least 10 years
And we’re emotionally invested because unlike the kids on Idol… these guys don’t have years in front of them.
This is their Last Shot
Redemption
Apprentice style soulless business types are given the chance to perform Extreme Home Makeover style good deeds for ‘worthy families’
We get to see them evolve as people as well as cry with the families
The Pitch
Teams of four pitch against advertising professionals to come up with the best ideas on some of the biggest brands in America. We watch them at the briefing, working on original ideas, presenting to client and testing their ideas. Those who beat the professionals see their ideas made and win $250,000
Maybe I should flesh these out
Monday, May 15, 2006
Just another pic
Before chemo I wouldn't have my picture taken, now I'm a lens whore... never leaving the house without a camera and just willing people to say the words "Let me take one of you"
Wonder if 'attention seeking' is a side effect of the drugs still coarsing through my system? Might explain the 'drama queenery' too.
Wonder if 'attention seeking' is a side effect of the drugs still coarsing through my system? Might explain the 'drama queenery' too.
Still here, still waiting
In what's become a familiar refrain, I'm still waiting on some news of when my scans will be.
Scheduling is not what Cornell does best.
The weird thing is that I might be 'cured' (the quotation marks representing the high relapse rate) and ready to be back at work full time and proper by June 1st.
In my bones however I feel that they're going to to radiation therapy. Weird how it works, radiation therapy. Basically it breaks down the cell DNA. Brutal huh?
Have to be careful about phrases like ''in my bones" too - as that's about the only place this cancer didn't visit pre-treatment.
Anyway just wanted to put up a simple update that let people know where I am medically rather than mentally.
That's it
Scheduling is not what Cornell does best.
The weird thing is that I might be 'cured' (the quotation marks representing the high relapse rate) and ready to be back at work full time and proper by June 1st.
In my bones however I feel that they're going to to radiation therapy. Weird how it works, radiation therapy. Basically it breaks down the cell DNA. Brutal huh?
Have to be careful about phrases like ''in my bones" too - as that's about the only place this cancer didn't visit pre-treatment.
Anyway just wanted to put up a simple update that let people know where I am medically rather than mentally.
That's it
Friday, May 12, 2006
Business as usual
I spent my first full week at work since January this week.
The side effects of Friday and Monday’s chemo seemed pretty mild – a washed out exhaustion coupled with legs that turn to lead suddenly and without warning. And seeing how exhaustion is par for the course for my team at work and that no part of the job involves me having to suddenly make a 60 meter dash anyway it seemed only right that I went in.
And it was weird how quickly I was back to business as usual.
Within 24 hrs I had been ignored, screamed at, talked over, personally insulted, had my professional qualifications questioned and had generally been accused of causing every ill from late starting meetings to genocide in Darfur (only Darfur is an exaggeration and even that only a slight exaggeration).
It seemed that I was symbolic of all that is wrong with advertising, with agency structure, with America and with people in general.
Dealing with the self obsessed, ignorant, arrogant and truly talented has always been one of the attractions of the business. But the US has always been strange. Respect here is attributed according to title rather than ability to help. It’s a strange place that never considers the idea that something might be ‘under thought’
So where do I go from here?
I have no question in my mind that what I want to do is help businesses make their products and services more relevant and attractive.
I have no doubt that I love advertising – more than anyone should be allowed to love what they do
The question now has to be – can I make a difference to the businesses paying me to help them within the confines of my current situation?
And should I really care this much?
Oh who knows?
Maybe it is time to become a client.. or to start something of my own over again
Sigh.
The side effects of Friday and Monday’s chemo seemed pretty mild – a washed out exhaustion coupled with legs that turn to lead suddenly and without warning. And seeing how exhaustion is par for the course for my team at work and that no part of the job involves me having to suddenly make a 60 meter dash anyway it seemed only right that I went in.
And it was weird how quickly I was back to business as usual.
Within 24 hrs I had been ignored, screamed at, talked over, personally insulted, had my professional qualifications questioned and had generally been accused of causing every ill from late starting meetings to genocide in Darfur (only Darfur is an exaggeration and even that only a slight exaggeration).
It seemed that I was symbolic of all that is wrong with advertising, with agency structure, with America and with people in general.
Dealing with the self obsessed, ignorant, arrogant and truly talented has always been one of the attractions of the business. But the US has always been strange. Respect here is attributed according to title rather than ability to help. It’s a strange place that never considers the idea that something might be ‘under thought’
So where do I go from here?
I have no question in my mind that what I want to do is help businesses make their products and services more relevant and attractive.
I have no doubt that I love advertising – more than anyone should be allowed to love what they do
The question now has to be – can I make a difference to the businesses paying me to help them within the confines of my current situation?
And should I really care this much?
Oh who knows?
Maybe it is time to become a client.. or to start something of my own over again
Sigh.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Nae Deed the noo
A real quickie to say yes I'm still alive, yes I'm running late for work and yes SOME of the weight is starting to fall off (12lbs to go)
See y'all soon
See y'all soon
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Thank you
On my way home from my last chemo session I resolved to write ‘Thank You’ letters to all of the people who individually offered up the hands of help which formed the sea upon which I’ve surfed through this whole treatment.
And each of you will get a letter.
Chemo proved surprisingly easy for me. I know that there’s a ‘brave face’ theory that people want to apply to patients who don’t seem outwardly affected by the seriousness of what’s happening to them. And that there’s a ‘denial’ theory applied to those who don’t seem inwardly troubled. I can genuinely say that neither applies to me. And for very simple reason.
“I’ve never felt as though I was sinking because I always had your support.”
And that goes for all of the people who have slogged their way through increasingly banal blog entries. Seeing your hits on the site and your flags on the map (way to go Sweden) has meant a lot. It’s meant that people care. Not just about me, but about my wife and how she’s doing. Logging in each day I saw her support system more alive than I may have felt and I was buoyed by that thought.
There are of course still mysteries - who is checking in from North Carolina?
And there is work to be done – tests, radiotherapy, getting back in shape, deciding on what, where, when and with whom our lives go from here/
But we’re on our way and we have you to thank for that.
So thank you.
And each of you will get a letter.
Chemo proved surprisingly easy for me. I know that there’s a ‘brave face’ theory that people want to apply to patients who don’t seem outwardly affected by the seriousness of what’s happening to them. And that there’s a ‘denial’ theory applied to those who don’t seem inwardly troubled. I can genuinely say that neither applies to me. And for very simple reason.
“I’ve never felt as though I was sinking because I always had your support.”
And that goes for all of the people who have slogged their way through increasingly banal blog entries. Seeing your hits on the site and your flags on the map (way to go Sweden) has meant a lot. It’s meant that people care. Not just about me, but about my wife and how she’s doing. Logging in each day I saw her support system more alive than I may have felt and I was buoyed by that thought.
There are of course still mysteries - who is checking in from North Carolina?
And there is work to be done – tests, radiotherapy, getting back in shape, deciding on what, where, when and with whom our lives go from here/
But we’re on our way and we have you to thank for that.
So thank you.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Chemo VI - the aftershock
Actually Chemo Six seems to be going swimmingly. Sure I threw up like a bulemic at a pie eating show whilst they administered the '96ml of orange gloop' that I so hate but since then it's been plain sailing.
Sure I get a strange feeling in my chest and a worryingly queasy cough when I exercise - but take it easy and all is fine. No nausea, no fatigue, no worries.
Next comes the scans, the radiation oncologist appointment and the desperate plea to work around my vacation dates... we shall see.
Sure I get a strange feeling in my chest and a worryingly queasy cough when I exercise - but take it easy and all is fine. No nausea, no fatigue, no worries.
Next comes the scans, the radiation oncologist appointment and the desperate plea to work around my vacation dates... we shall see.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
For those who asked "what does chemo look like?"
It looks like this...
For full effect sit in nasty green 'recliner' (it won't), surround yourself with sick people, cram 12 chairs into a room the size of your bathtub, add in overworked nurses, a slow pharmacy and the odd paranoid patient and you're there
For full effect sit in nasty green 'recliner' (it won't), surround yourself with sick people, cram 12 chairs into a room the size of your bathtub, add in overworked nurses, a slow pharmacy and the odd paranoid patient and you're there
Friday, May 05, 2006
Soft Metal?
Woke up this morning singing "It's the final chemo" to the 'tune' of Europe's "Final Countdown" - the mind is a wonderful thing, I wonder how long my subconscious has been cooking up that little treat?
Hoping to find out what the next steps are today. What I know are scans around two weeks from today, an appointment with a radiation oncologist, radioation therapy almost mandatory - every day for at least a month; and every effort made to have me finished in time to go on vacation July 2nd.
I need to go and grab a coffee and a breakfast cake before my patience with this cat (he likes to sit on the keyboard / between you and the screen whenever possible) wear so thin I do something that hurts my karma.
Ciao
Hoping to find out what the next steps are today. What I know are scans around two weeks from today, an appointment with a radiation oncologist, radioation therapy almost mandatory - every day for at least a month; and every effort made to have me finished in time to go on vacation July 2nd.
I need to go and grab a coffee and a breakfast cake before my patience with this cat (he likes to sit on the keyboard / between you and the screen whenever possible) wear so thin I do something that hurts my karma.
Ciao
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Delighted Shepherds Ahoy?
The most spectacular sunset tonight... sky a bazing red, fading to vast purple bruises as dusk swallows the city skyline. Just gorgeous.
Heard a great story that when the Nielman ad' (an ad in which the founder of JetBlue - an American airline -talks of his dread of asking for help on other airlines) appears on the screens placed aback the seats on JetBlue (they all get DirectTV) every passenger reaches up and presses the 'flight attendant' button.
That sentence was tortured, the story though is lovely.
Anyway Jude on a delayed train - so pizza time for this boy
Heard a great story that when the Nielman ad' (an ad in which the founder of JetBlue - an American airline -talks of his dread of asking for help on other airlines) appears on the screens placed aback the seats on JetBlue (they all get DirectTV) every passenger reaches up and presses the 'flight attendant' button.
That sentence was tortured, the story though is lovely.
Anyway Jude on a delayed train - so pizza time for this boy
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Here's the fire
that I was talking about
it's still smoking away - but the smoke is white now, perhaps we have a new Pope
it's still smoking away - but the smoke is white now, perhaps we have a new Pope
What's new
Can see what looks like a HUGE fire raging (huge fires do rage, don't they?) down by the park where I usually walk velcro. Heavy black smoke blocking out the view towards Manhattan
Have a really sore point on my left foot - think that the pedicure may have left my feet so soft that my 5 miles a day with Velcro are leaving me blistered. Damn.
Counting down to Chemo VI - surely a chemo too far. Trying to get a timetable of what happens from there. I've a vacation booked for July 2nd that I'm really hoping to make but that will depend on whether I need radiotherapy, how much I need and of course how soon they can get started. So all up in the air - I'm taking the pessimistic view and preparing myself for missing Anguilla.
Jude at school an extra day this week - but that should be her last schlep up there in a while. I hope so, she could do with a break from the commute and the HOURS it takes to get around up there when you're car-less.
Okay - time to get dressed and get out with the dog. Investigate that fire.
Have a really sore point on my left foot - think that the pedicure may have left my feet so soft that my 5 miles a day with Velcro are leaving me blistered. Damn.
Counting down to Chemo VI - surely a chemo too far. Trying to get a timetable of what happens from there. I've a vacation booked for July 2nd that I'm really hoping to make but that will depend on whether I need radiotherapy, how much I need and of course how soon they can get started. So all up in the air - I'm taking the pessimistic view and preparing myself for missing Anguilla.
Jude at school an extra day this week - but that should be her last schlep up there in a while. I hope so, she could do with a break from the commute and the HOURS it takes to get around up there when you're car-less.
Okay - time to get dressed and get out with the dog. Investigate that fire.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
chemo faced
The face gets rounder and rounder as the steroids really take hold...
Mind you should see my tits... blimey
Oh to have this end and the gym beckon
Mind you should see my tits... blimey
Oh to have this end and the gym beckon
The Weekend
The weekend, the weekend
Been kinda nice here this weekend. The sun is shining, the temperature is hovering at around 20C (perfect Velcro weather) and old friends have been resurfacing.
First up this weekend was Michael – celebrating his 35th birthday in a bar called ‘The Back Room’. It’s literally through an unmarked gate, talk to the large, scary man who leads you down a rat infested alley (we saw two monsters) up another unmarked flight of stairs and into a surprisingly nice bar where they sell their booze in teacups – prohibition speakeasy style. Some nice people there for Michael anyway so good time had be us.
Next up was Sue (who Judith worked with around 10 years ago and whom I’ve not seen since a jaunt to New York to be here for the opening weekend of the rather disappointing Godzilla)… a quick brunch at FADA where the waitress was incredibly rude in that distant, waifish, Williamsburg nonchalant-aggressive way. Still the food was good and because of said waitresses inability to add came to a mere $26 for the four of us (Brunch is $11 so go figure)
From there it was on to the BAM ROSE where we met ‘a recently returned from global travels’ Alex and his ‘in town for the weekend’ girlfriend Christiana – and suffered through ‘Brick’; a dreadful but interesting teen meets noir flick that doesn’t quite pay off ; before finding a tiny bar for drinks that did.
Of course before we got into a taxi for the BAM Rose we had to contend with a volley of gunfire coming from two blocks down - rather pulse quickening as you raced to your taxi and screeched away toward safety.
Today it’s off to the park with the dog before our friend Ali comes over for dinner and tales of her new movie (Jude is going to fill in as a New Yorker in the background)
I’m still heavy legged (could that be a new syndrome? Restless Leg Syndrome – RLS – is all over the TV ads at the moment, this could be the opposite in terms of symptoms but as profitable in terms of suckers willing to cough up cash) but other than that doing well.
Hoping that Friday sees the last of treatment. And that if I do need any radiotherapy it will be short. I booked the vacation in the belief that any radio’ I needed would be done by the end of June. If it’s longer then we may well miss the vacation and lose the money (no insurance for people in the middle of chemo). I’d hate to miss the vacation so everything crossed here.
Anyway LONG entry… time to get dressed and get out into the sunshine.
Been kinda nice here this weekend. The sun is shining, the temperature is hovering at around 20C (perfect Velcro weather) and old friends have been resurfacing.
First up this weekend was Michael – celebrating his 35th birthday in a bar called ‘The Back Room’. It’s literally through an unmarked gate, talk to the large, scary man who leads you down a rat infested alley (we saw two monsters) up another unmarked flight of stairs and into a surprisingly nice bar where they sell their booze in teacups – prohibition speakeasy style. Some nice people there for Michael anyway so good time had be us.
Next up was Sue (who Judith worked with around 10 years ago and whom I’ve not seen since a jaunt to New York to be here for the opening weekend of the rather disappointing Godzilla)… a quick brunch at FADA where the waitress was incredibly rude in that distant, waifish, Williamsburg nonchalant-aggressive way. Still the food was good and because of said waitresses inability to add came to a mere $26 for the four of us (Brunch is $11 so go figure)
From there it was on to the BAM ROSE where we met ‘a recently returned from global travels’ Alex and his ‘in town for the weekend’ girlfriend Christiana – and suffered through ‘Brick’; a dreadful but interesting teen meets noir flick that doesn’t quite pay off ; before finding a tiny bar for drinks that did.
Of course before we got into a taxi for the BAM Rose we had to contend with a volley of gunfire coming from two blocks down - rather pulse quickening as you raced to your taxi and screeched away toward safety.
Today it’s off to the park with the dog before our friend Ali comes over for dinner and tales of her new movie (Jude is going to fill in as a New Yorker in the background)
I’m still heavy legged (could that be a new syndrome? Restless Leg Syndrome – RLS – is all over the TV ads at the moment, this could be the opposite in terms of symptoms but as profitable in terms of suckers willing to cough up cash) but other than that doing well.
Hoping that Friday sees the last of treatment. And that if I do need any radiotherapy it will be short. I booked the vacation in the belief that any radio’ I needed would be done by the end of June. If it’s longer then we may well miss the vacation and lose the money (no insurance for people in the middle of chemo). I’d hate to miss the vacation so everything crossed here.
Anyway LONG entry… time to get dressed and get out into the sunshine.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Ten Tonne Tess
Well the weight continues to pile on - I've gained 10lbs since ending round 3 of chemo. Doctors, nurses, friends and family all seem delighted, I'm not so sure. I hate the feeling of my thights rubbing together or the sight of abs disappearing under a layer of fat.
But I will not diet. It has the word 'die' in it for god's sake. Instead I shall be more organically veggie, drag the dog for yet longer walks and generally live the life of a native of Portland (minus the hiking - even I have limits and they're drawn at walking that requires specialist equipment)
Managed to catch the UEFA Cup Semi final in which Middlesbrough set them selves up for Cup Final Heartache - by coming from behind to score the 4 goals they needed to make it to Eindhoven and the final. They will of course lose the final narrowly and tragically whilst fat men in replica shirts that they couldn't afford even before blowing the rent on travel weep - not at the fact that they've spent money that could have fed and housed their children on a childish folly; but at the fact that reflected glory was denied them.
There's something very wrong with a town that NEEDS its teams to be successful. Where all pride is caught up in their success. I think that's why there's less fervent support for clubs here in the US. Sure people are passionate about their teams but the teams don't represent their every once of hope. In the land of opportunity there's always hope - so when the Packers lose you go back to the project that will make you a billionaire. When Boro lose it's back to the single room you rent in somebody else's house, with only enough money to buy more temporary hope in the shape of a scratchcard (or a bet on the horses) in your pocket.
Anyway enough of this tragedy. I'm off to Bodies today (see how the body works by looking at skinned, diced and dissected real ones) and then for a quick drink (oh how I wish it was alcoholic) with a friend having a birthday celebration.
Hope it's a big room - these thighs need space
But I will not diet. It has the word 'die' in it for god's sake. Instead I shall be more organically veggie, drag the dog for yet longer walks and generally live the life of a native of Portland (minus the hiking - even I have limits and they're drawn at walking that requires specialist equipment)
Managed to catch the UEFA Cup Semi final in which Middlesbrough set them selves up for Cup Final Heartache - by coming from behind to score the 4 goals they needed to make it to Eindhoven and the final. They will of course lose the final narrowly and tragically whilst fat men in replica shirts that they couldn't afford even before blowing the rent on travel weep - not at the fact that they've spent money that could have fed and housed their children on a childish folly; but at the fact that reflected glory was denied them.
There's something very wrong with a town that NEEDS its teams to be successful. Where all pride is caught up in their success. I think that's why there's less fervent support for clubs here in the US. Sure people are passionate about their teams but the teams don't represent their every once of hope. In the land of opportunity there's always hope - so when the Packers lose you go back to the project that will make you a billionaire. When Boro lose it's back to the single room you rent in somebody else's house, with only enough money to buy more temporary hope in the shape of a scratchcard (or a bet on the horses) in your pocket.
Anyway enough of this tragedy. I'm off to Bodies today (see how the body works by looking at skinned, diced and dissected real ones) and then for a quick drink (oh how I wish it was alcoholic) with a friend having a birthday celebration.
Hope it's a big room - these thighs need space
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Rest Day
So I'm not going in to work today - the throat was sufficiently sore and the glands sufficiently swollen for me to think "screw it'
Of course sufficient is a moveable feast but in truth the commute and the atmosphere of dread panic is more than I can bear today - and we're seeing no work until tomorrow anyway.
My cat is acting as a poster kitten for the benefits of diet food - since we switched her she's been playful, inquisitive and noticeably less rotund. You'd think we'd plied her with 'kitty speed' given the way that she's bouncing about.
I love those diet pill TV ads here - 'not only will you lose weight, you'll gain energy" - well of course will Mrs Pudding, they're filling you with cheap speed.
Not a great deal happening in my world - wanting everything at Yokod.com - three great blazers in the new collection and cashmere T-Shirts. The store is just down the road, but oh the expense. The stuff is gorgeous though, I'll go and join the throngs looking longingly through the window at it at some point today.
And with that I'll disappear, breakfast does not buy itself and I need a French Stick to get me up of a morning these days.
Of course sufficient is a moveable feast but in truth the commute and the atmosphere of dread panic is more than I can bear today - and we're seeing no work until tomorrow anyway.
My cat is acting as a poster kitten for the benefits of diet food - since we switched her she's been playful, inquisitive and noticeably less rotund. You'd think we'd plied her with 'kitty speed' given the way that she's bouncing about.
I love those diet pill TV ads here - 'not only will you lose weight, you'll gain energy" - well of course will Mrs Pudding, they're filling you with cheap speed.
Not a great deal happening in my world - wanting everything at Yokod.com - three great blazers in the new collection and cashmere T-Shirts. The store is just down the road, but oh the expense. The stuff is gorgeous though, I'll go and join the throngs looking longingly through the window at it at some point today.
And with that I'll disappear, breakfast does not buy itself and I need a French Stick to get me up of a morning these days.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Sick enough for sick leave?
Today I have a new mantra. It’s one that I will be repeating to myself and I fear to others over the coming weeks
“I will not let work get in the way of my recovery”
A subtle mix of workplace tension, looming deadlines and a body filled with steroids has made me the stroppiest of madams and it’s starting to have adverse implications for my health.
I need to stop worrying about what’s going on in the office and start worrying about getting well.
So that’s what I’m going to do.
Will talk to HR today about signing off for the 6 weeks of sick leave that I’m allowed to take before they slash my salary – after which I intend to come home, eat healthily, walk the dog and rest up with nothing but pictures of healthy cells in my head.
Best for all? Maybe. Best for me? Absolutely,
“I will not let work get in the way of my recovery”
A subtle mix of workplace tension, looming deadlines and a body filled with steroids has made me the stroppiest of madams and it’s starting to have adverse implications for my health.
I need to stop worrying about what’s going on in the office and start worrying about getting well.
So that’s what I’m going to do.
Will talk to HR today about signing off for the 6 weeks of sick leave that I’m allowed to take before they slash my salary – after which I intend to come home, eat healthily, walk the dog and rest up with nothing but pictures of healthy cells in my head.
Best for all? Maybe. Best for me? Absolutely,
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
what the hell?
Spent last night in fear of the door being smashed in and my being taken away to a place where the uniforms are orange and the international laws on holding people without a trial lax.
Just as I started reading the Rolling Stone 'Worst President ini History?" article the sky filled with choppers, the air with the noise of sirens and the streets with emergency vehicles.
I can't see that anything major was happening outside but I have to say there were 5 minutes when I was wracking my brain for details of how I could have been the cause of so well orchestrated a manhunt.
Sadly I could think of nothing. It's never great to realize that you're not subversive or edgy or dangerous - but that you're a middle aged cancer patient livning a quiet life of domesticity.
But for the first time ever it wasn't a wrist slashing thought either.
Oh dear - I should go and buy 'dinner party music' now, shouldn't I?
Just as I started reading the Rolling Stone 'Worst President ini History?" article the sky filled with choppers, the air with the noise of sirens and the streets with emergency vehicles.
I can't see that anything major was happening outside but I have to say there were 5 minutes when I was wracking my brain for details of how I could have been the cause of so well orchestrated a manhunt.
Sadly I could think of nothing. It's never great to realize that you're not subversive or edgy or dangerous - but that you're a middle aged cancer patient livning a quiet life of domesticity.
But for the first time ever it wasn't a wrist slashing thought either.
Oh dear - I should go and buy 'dinner party music' now, shouldn't I?
Monday, April 24, 2006
At work
and at a loose end - so more blog stuff for you.
Had a blood test this morning, which was fine. I'm starting to get to know everyone at the hospital so preferential treatment is mine - 'come straight through'
Of course the rain this morning was bad enough to wash out the downtown subway and to ensure that every cab was filled with a smugly dry bastard - so I walked the 30 blocks to work, stopping to look at a bulldog puppy and getting into several 'brolly bashes' with fur coated harridans.
Feeling so much better today than last week - and sun forecast for the weekend. Hurrah.
So endeth this entry, short and pointless really... ne'er mind
Had a blood test this morning, which was fine. I'm starting to get to know everyone at the hospital so preferential treatment is mine - 'come straight through'
Of course the rain this morning was bad enough to wash out the downtown subway and to ensure that every cab was filled with a smugly dry bastard - so I walked the 30 blocks to work, stopping to look at a bulldog puppy and getting into several 'brolly bashes' with fur coated harridans.
Feeling so much better today than last week - and sun forecast for the weekend. Hurrah.
So endeth this entry, short and pointless really... ne'er mind
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Gas at $3 a gallon
Gas went through $3 here yesterday. All of the car mags are showing 'small' cars and asking "Is this the way forward?"
As I walked the dog I saw this... obviously America has a long way to go before it breaks its 'addiction to oil'
Still knackered
For some strange reason I continue to be knackered this week. Perhaps I did too much on Monday and Tuesday. Went into work yesterday but had to leave early and by 3pm was asleep on the sofa despite the best efforts of Penn and Teller to entertain me.
My High Potentials Graduation Gift (HP_GG) arrived. It's a badly made perspex box that contains some heavy, but useless miniature versions of our Creative Council Score Cards (CCSC). I'm not entire sure what I'm supposed to do with a faux slate mini card engraved with the legend '01 Wasteful' but I guess that's now my problem rather than theirs.
Was invited to a Yankees game yesterday - but alas couldn't make it. Jude was still in Washington talking to politicians about the US's role in the lighting industry and I was asleep on the sofa. A metaphor for our lives at the moment? You betcha.
Finally Madonna tickets sold out again, so we won't be seeing her Madge-esty this year. Shame. I was online at 9.00am, but there had been an 'exclusive' pre-sale so by the time I got to the bookings page all had already gone. Will treat myself to a photo printer by way of recompense.
And that's it for now. Coughing the cough of the knackered, far from my best, further from my worst.
My High Potentials Graduation Gift (HP_GG) arrived. It's a badly made perspex box that contains some heavy, but useless miniature versions of our Creative Council Score Cards (CCSC). I'm not entire sure what I'm supposed to do with a faux slate mini card engraved with the legend '01 Wasteful' but I guess that's now my problem rather than theirs.
Was invited to a Yankees game yesterday - but alas couldn't make it. Jude was still in Washington talking to politicians about the US's role in the lighting industry and I was asleep on the sofa. A metaphor for our lives at the moment? You betcha.
Finally Madonna tickets sold out again, so we won't be seeing her Madge-esty this year. Shame. I was online at 9.00am, but there had been an 'exclusive' pre-sale so by the time I got to the bookings page all had already gone. Will treat myself to a photo printer by way of recompense.
And that's it for now. Coughing the cough of the knackered, far from my best, further from my worst.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
New blogs?
I’ve been contemplating two new blogs today.
Fabulously Thin is getting close to having run its course – with chemo 6 weeks away and no real ‘needs to be shared’ news beyond that. Of course there will be a flurry of activity as I do more scans, get back results, decide on more treatment (or not) and get to hear whether on not I’ll make the age of 40. Then of course there will be the second flurry when Dakota Fanning’s people get hold of the story (don’t worry it will be much ‘juiced’) – but ultimately I reckon there’s about 2 months of this left.
My other ideas are both much more self serving than this. Actually they’re both designed to show that I’m the cleverest man in all of advertising – and both seek to do so by giving away ideas that companies would usually have to pay for. How’s that for the cleverest business model ever? Hey I said I was clever, not savvy.
Blog one will be called “Hey Genius....”
Watching big brands struggle to nail what they’re about frustrates the hell out of me. Take Coke. Everybody knows that what Coke promises is ‘Unity’. It’s what the world has in common. One of the few things that brings us all together. Always has been. The best ads have been exactly about that (‘I’d like to buy the world a coke’!). It’s also the reason that Coke sponsorships of other events that bring the world together (like the World Cup) always seem to bring out the best in Coke communication. But Coke keep missing it.
So that’s Blog one. A big brand per day. An idea per day. A couple examples of what that might practically mean per day. And a fervent hope that they find the post and do something with it… (Nike I’m going to start with you and ‘Participation’)
Second one is just mischief really. I’ll call it ‘Pitch Perfect’ and post a strategy for every advertising pitch that’s ‘live’ out there. The real reason for this one is to piss off the ‘pitch planners’ who charge a fortune to quote the fucking obvious at length and with the use of too many adverbs. My site will say the same stuff, more clearly and for free. Put that in your pipes and smoke it.
As I said – self serving – but isn’t that what blogging is about?
Fabulously Thin is getting close to having run its course – with chemo 6 weeks away and no real ‘needs to be shared’ news beyond that. Of course there will be a flurry of activity as I do more scans, get back results, decide on more treatment (or not) and get to hear whether on not I’ll make the age of 40. Then of course there will be the second flurry when Dakota Fanning’s people get hold of the story (don’t worry it will be much ‘juiced’) – but ultimately I reckon there’s about 2 months of this left.
My other ideas are both much more self serving than this. Actually they’re both designed to show that I’m the cleverest man in all of advertising – and both seek to do so by giving away ideas that companies would usually have to pay for. How’s that for the cleverest business model ever? Hey I said I was clever, not savvy.
Blog one will be called “Hey Genius....”
Watching big brands struggle to nail what they’re about frustrates the hell out of me. Take Coke. Everybody knows that what Coke promises is ‘Unity’. It’s what the world has in common. One of the few things that brings us all together. Always has been. The best ads have been exactly about that (‘I’d like to buy the world a coke’!). It’s also the reason that Coke sponsorships of other events that bring the world together (like the World Cup) always seem to bring out the best in Coke communication. But Coke keep missing it.
So that’s Blog one. A big brand per day. An idea per day. A couple examples of what that might practically mean per day. And a fervent hope that they find the post and do something with it… (Nike I’m going to start with you and ‘Participation’)
Second one is just mischief really. I’ll call it ‘Pitch Perfect’ and post a strategy for every advertising pitch that’s ‘live’ out there. The real reason for this one is to piss off the ‘pitch planners’ who charge a fortune to quote the fucking obvious at length and with the use of too many adverbs. My site will say the same stuff, more clearly and for free. Put that in your pipes and smoke it.
As I said – self serving – but isn’t that what blogging is about?
Where's Steve
I don't think that I can manage work today - and I feel more guilty about it you than you can imagine. It's a big week at work yet since Monday I've been sitting, close to my couch, feeling as though someone has filled my ankles with mercury (or something else heavy and poisonous). If only I had a symptom more violent or volatile. This one is so passive and yet... it seems to be enough to stop me managing to do very much. Every burst of energy is followed by the feeling that I've just completed a marathon, in costume, carrying a small woman on my back.
This, of course, is a symptom of the drugs rather than the disease but it's driving me to distraction. Ultimatelty I hate letting people down - and being here rather than at work where people need me IS letting somebody down. No amount of phone, e-mail or BlackBerry content can change that.
Mind it's such a big week that a million big people have stepped in to fill my shoes. We have company Presidents and Country Planning directors all being able in my absence so maybe I should just follow my Sydney incantation and 'let go and trust' - after all I wrote the brief, I decided on what should accompany the brief, I helped sell the brief - it's just that I won't be there to physically deliver the brief.
'Let go and trust'
This, of course, is a symptom of the drugs rather than the disease but it's driving me to distraction. Ultimatelty I hate letting people down - and being here rather than at work where people need me IS letting somebody down. No amount of phone, e-mail or BlackBerry content can change that.
Mind it's such a big week that a million big people have stepped in to fill my shoes. We have company Presidents and Country Planning directors all being able in my absence so maybe I should just follow my Sydney incantation and 'let go and trust' - after all I wrote the brief, I decided on what should accompany the brief, I helped sell the brief - it's just that I won't be there to physically deliver the brief.
'Let go and trust'
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Soppy Sod
So Judith’s brother just packed up his enormous bag and left New York for London – almost exactly a year after he arrived. He left on a beautiful spring day – filled with glorious sunshine and easy company and it’s made me enormously sad.
Of course he’s leaving for all of the right reasons, he has the right mix of people & opportunities to be really happy in London – and it’s a brave man who pays his way out of a contract and ‘follows his bliss’. I know he’ll find it there.
But it’s not his leaving that makes me sad. It’s remembering him arriving – on a gloriously sunny spring day filled with easy company. It’s amazing to think how hard the year between then and now has been – and how we had no idea that it was going to be so tough. Had someone shown us that day the year that we had in store I’m not sure any of us could have imagined living through it.
There’s been the illness and death of Jude’s dad, her mom’s relocation, her brother’s company dissolving into tiny fragments leaving him looking for a role in a strange city, my sickness, delayed diagnosis and treatment.
It’ s been a year of reconsideration, relocation and lots and lots of deep breaths.
And each of us has had to handle pieces of it alone. There’s been so much going on that we haven’t wanted to add another burden to the other’s and so sometimes we’ve struggled in silence when we should have asked for help. Or pulled away when we should have allowed ourselves to be hugged. Or iced over at an unexpected display of warmth.
But I hope that through it all we’ve never forgotten that we cared. Never stopped hoping for the other’s happiness. Never stopped wishing that the other does a little better today than yesterday.
I’m glad I had today, in the sunshine with people that I care about. Because it was a day when none of us felt the need to protect the others, a day when we could just ‘be’ rather than one where we had to ‘be aware’
I hope that the coming year is filled with more and more days like this. That we each find the easy going happiness that we deserve.
And that we look back on 12 months as something that we all went through knowing that when the it really came to it – somebody would be there – and that that will be the case going forward.
Of course he’s leaving for all of the right reasons, he has the right mix of people & opportunities to be really happy in London – and it’s a brave man who pays his way out of a contract and ‘follows his bliss’. I know he’ll find it there.
But it’s not his leaving that makes me sad. It’s remembering him arriving – on a gloriously sunny spring day filled with easy company. It’s amazing to think how hard the year between then and now has been – and how we had no idea that it was going to be so tough. Had someone shown us that day the year that we had in store I’m not sure any of us could have imagined living through it.
There’s been the illness and death of Jude’s dad, her mom’s relocation, her brother’s company dissolving into tiny fragments leaving him looking for a role in a strange city, my sickness, delayed diagnosis and treatment.
It’ s been a year of reconsideration, relocation and lots and lots of deep breaths.
And each of us has had to handle pieces of it alone. There’s been so much going on that we haven’t wanted to add another burden to the other’s and so sometimes we’ve struggled in silence when we should have asked for help. Or pulled away when we should have allowed ourselves to be hugged. Or iced over at an unexpected display of warmth.
But I hope that through it all we’ve never forgotten that we cared. Never stopped hoping for the other’s happiness. Never stopped wishing that the other does a little better today than yesterday.
I’m glad I had today, in the sunshine with people that I care about. Because it was a day when none of us felt the need to protect the others, a day when we could just ‘be’ rather than one where we had to ‘be aware’
I hope that the coming year is filled with more and more days like this. That we each find the easy going happiness that we deserve.
And that we look back on 12 months as something that we all went through knowing that when the it really came to it – somebody would be there – and that that will be the case going forward.
Paris Hilton Sex Tape
Apparently you can get lots of hits on your blog if blogger search finds phrases like 'Kylie wrestling in jelly' or 'Dido done with Dodi's dildo' hidden within the text.
I of course would find such trolling for an audience beneath me.
Yup, I'm feeling much better - and the retention problem (I gained 13lbs over the weekend) seems to be resolving itself nicely
I of course would find such trolling for an audience beneath me.
Yup, I'm feeling much better - and the retention problem (I gained 13lbs over the weekend) seems to be resolving itself nicely
Monday, April 17, 2006
As tired as Tarby's act
Absolutely knackered today.
Just back in from traipsing around the park in the wake of the dog whilst feeling every step vibrating somewhere deep and weary making in my bones.
The reason? A chemo session this morning followed by an afternoon at work attempting to run a spine through what might otherwise have become the world’s sexiest jellyfish. And sure whilst being the world’s sexiest jellyfish is an accolade - don’t expect the world to go to bed moist and eager each night, thoughts of jellyfish in their heads and of tentacles replacing their probing fingers. So it now has a spine. And a chance to walk on land. And I’m happier. But SO tired. Glad I made that so clear.
Interesting to do a conference call from a hospital recliner too. I’m better when I pace and it’s hard to pace when one of the wheels on your drip is wonky.
Wanted to do the motor show this evening but not sure I can make it as far as the sofa – let alone the Jocovits (?) centre.
Anyway jellyfish now suitably backboned, dog happily trotted, dinner still to be digested.
Then a very, very early night for me.
Just back in from traipsing around the park in the wake of the dog whilst feeling every step vibrating somewhere deep and weary making in my bones.
The reason? A chemo session this morning followed by an afternoon at work attempting to run a spine through what might otherwise have become the world’s sexiest jellyfish. And sure whilst being the world’s sexiest jellyfish is an accolade - don’t expect the world to go to bed moist and eager each night, thoughts of jellyfish in their heads and of tentacles replacing their probing fingers. So it now has a spine. And a chance to walk on land. And I’m happier. But SO tired. Glad I made that so clear.
Interesting to do a conference call from a hospital recliner too. I’m better when I pace and it’s hard to pace when one of the wheels on your drip is wonky.
Wanted to do the motor show this evening but not sure I can make it as far as the sofa – let alone the Jocovits (?) centre.
Anyway jellyfish now suitably backboned, dog happily trotted, dinner still to be digested.
Then a very, very early night for me.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Easy like Sunday morning (the faith no more version)
So it's early Sunday morning and I'm surrounded by animals, animal hair and tiny amounts of our new, rather bad, cat litter - which seems to spread around the house independent of the cats. My weather widget is telling me that the temperature outside has dropped from yesterday's 27C to a less balmy 11C - which probably means I should feed and walk the dog before the heat starts rising and people start to tell me 'hey man, I think your dog is really warm'
Still it makes a difference from the universal cry of 'Shaggy Dog, shaggy dog' we've been getting since that damned Tim Allen movie.
I seem tobe replacing food with a mad spending spree. Expensive brunch yesterday, tickets for The Importance Of Being Earnest, ready to bid on Madonna tickets as soon as the extra show is released (I refused to enter the previous auction - floor level seats were up to $3500) and of course the seats for the US tennis open go on sale pretty soon too. Oh and I have tickets for the New York Auto Show too - a bargain at $14.
Off to see 'The miracle of life the birth of Sean Preston Spears' later today. It's a sculpture of Britney giving birth, on all fours, on a bearskin rug - and it's on display just down the road, so I have to really, don't I?
Not a great deal else going on - eating well, feeling well, one chemo to go
PS - what a weird picture
Still it makes a difference from the universal cry of 'Shaggy Dog, shaggy dog' we've been getting since that damned Tim Allen movie.
I seem tobe replacing food with a mad spending spree. Expensive brunch yesterday, tickets for The Importance Of Being Earnest, ready to bid on Madonna tickets as soon as the extra show is released (I refused to enter the previous auction - floor level seats were up to $3500) and of course the seats for the US tennis open go on sale pretty soon too. Oh and I have tickets for the New York Auto Show too - a bargain at $14.
Off to see 'The miracle of life the birth of Sean Preston Spears' later today. It's a sculpture of Britney giving birth, on all fours, on a bearskin rug - and it's on display just down the road, so I have to really, don't I?
Not a great deal else going on - eating well, feeling well, one chemo to go
PS - what a weird picture
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Trying a post from widget...
Okay, here's a post from the blogger widgit - how high tech of me.
The first day after Chemo V and I seem to be doing a lot better... nurse was in such a hurry to get the drugs into me (and me out of the chair) that she pushed at three times the normal speed... continuing even as I vomitted noisily into a bucket.
Still managed to hold down the one chip I nicked last night (but only just) and to have a good brunch today (mind it cost a fortune... green salad, poached salmon in champagne saucy thing, strawberry ice-cream, OJ, coffee - tres Parisian)
Will spend the evening wih my feet up in front of Capote. Marvellous.
The first day after Chemo V and I seem to be doing a lot better... nurse was in such a hurry to get the drugs into me (and me out of the chair) that she pushed at three times the normal speed... continuing even as I vomitted noisily into a bucket.
Still managed to hold down the one chip I nicked last night (but only just) and to have a good brunch today (mind it cost a fortune... green salad, poached salmon in champagne saucy thing, strawberry ice-cream, OJ, coffee - tres Parisian)
Will spend the evening wih my feet up in front of Capote. Marvellous.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Spring - said Zebadee
So Chemo V tomorrow (let’s hope it’s better than Rocky V) and I’ve decided that it will be the chemo of better eating. I’ve felt great during Chemo IV but have rammed anything even resembling a sticky bun so far down my greedy gullet that I choked on my fingers - gaining 8lbs in 3 weeks as a result.
Nurses, doctors etc. all think that this is a great thing – they reckon without my new wardrobe (I can’t bring myself to say ‘closet’) of 29” waisted trousers.
So what pre-treatment news from me? Well I went out to get a manicure today. When the place was closed I tried to buy a photo printer instead (try making that link). When that didn’t work out I went and spent a minor fortune on hemp based trousers and visited a Polish store with the intent of buying a multi-system LCD TV so big you'd think it was related to Mandissa's knickers. I do believe that I’m morphing into a bored Connecticut housewife. All I need now is to have my tits lifted, the more they resemble earrings the better the Martha's and Clarissa's of this world like 'em.
Anyway Chemo V – lots of fresh fruit and veggies, no Easter Eggs (chomping down on the last this afternoon), no giagantic cookies from Sette Pani, no Chocolate Croissants from the new French bakery (even if they are half the size of American breakfast items) and no sneaky visits to the chip shop for a ‘small’ cod and chips.
Sounds miserable dunnit?
Still the sun is out (it’s 25C outside), my camera is back in action (there’s nothing like the sun to bring out Williamsburg’s weirdest) and everyone I know is pregnant – so I have the perfect excuse to hit Sam and Sebastian any buy baby Che T-Shirts.
Life, as they say, is beautiful.
Nurses, doctors etc. all think that this is a great thing – they reckon without my new wardrobe (I can’t bring myself to say ‘closet’) of 29” waisted trousers.
So what pre-treatment news from me? Well I went out to get a manicure today. When the place was closed I tried to buy a photo printer instead (try making that link). When that didn’t work out I went and spent a minor fortune on hemp based trousers and visited a Polish store with the intent of buying a multi-system LCD TV so big you'd think it was related to Mandissa's knickers. I do believe that I’m morphing into a bored Connecticut housewife. All I need now is to have my tits lifted, the more they resemble earrings the better the Martha's and Clarissa's of this world like 'em.
Anyway Chemo V – lots of fresh fruit and veggies, no Easter Eggs (chomping down on the last this afternoon), no giagantic cookies from Sette Pani, no Chocolate Croissants from the new French bakery (even if they are half the size of American breakfast items) and no sneaky visits to the chip shop for a ‘small’ cod and chips.
Sounds miserable dunnit?
Still the sun is out (it’s 25C outside), my camera is back in action (there’s nothing like the sun to bring out Williamsburg’s weirdest) and everyone I know is pregnant – so I have the perfect excuse to hit Sam and Sebastian any buy baby Che T-Shirts.
Life, as they say, is beautiful.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Dr Mazda
So got to the hospital at 9.45
Was stuck for blood
Then ushered into suite 3A where I met with Nurse Maureen
Then told Dr would be right in
Time : 10.05
He showed up at 11.10.
Shook my hand, told me that he was pleased, that decisions on radiotherapy etc could wait, that my results are as close to perfect as you could hope and was gone in a cloud of expensive cologne.
Zoom-zoom-ZOOM
Time : 11.12
Cost : $1400
I make that a possible $40,000 an hour.
Still the news was good
Was stuck for blood
Then ushered into suite 3A where I met with Nurse Maureen
Then told Dr would be right in
Time : 10.05
He showed up at 11.10.
Shook my hand, told me that he was pleased, that decisions on radiotherapy etc could wait, that my results are as close to perfect as you could hope and was gone in a cloud of expensive cologne.
Zoom-zoom-ZOOM
Time : 11.12
Cost : $1400
I make that a possible $40,000 an hour.
Still the news was good
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Quick post
As I have a ten o'clock with my oncologist.
I know that the news is good, I've been told that repeatedly and have the results with the 'Excellent response to treatment' written on them and yet I'm still approaching this meeting with some trepidation. I wonder why that is?
More later - when I'm back
I know that the news is good, I've been told that repeatedly and have the results with the 'Excellent response to treatment' written on them and yet I'm still approaching this meeting with some trepidation. I wonder why that is?
More later - when I'm back
Sunday, April 09, 2006
What a gay day
Had brunch at the cafe pictured here today, sunshine, crisp clean air, my wife and an old friend from Sydney...
... then spent HOURS looking for a bar, eventually ending up in the garden of Williamsburg's least cool spot - a place so unhip that I'm expecting the BillyBurg police to arrive and revoke my provisional hipster license at any moment.
Luckily Chemo Chic is a very B'Burg look so I might just blag my way to an extension - unless they call during America's Funniest Home Videos (the epitome of Suburban sensibility and one of my personal favorites) in which case I'll be forced to eat meat outside of a vegan restaurant and stoned to death with mouldy tofu.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
boring, boring cancer patient
Chemo V rapidly approaching… I just hope that it goes as well as Chemo IV; which seemed to fly by after a rather dodgy first evening. I’ve felt good throughout this round and am hoping to carry that through to the next one.
I see my oncologist on Tuesday when I’ll find out more about results to date, treatment regime post chemo and long term prognosis. I know that radiotherapy is very likely to be a part of my immediate future, but how much and for how long remains a mystery.
Saw our friend Elisa play at the Knitting Factory last night and kinda wish that we’d hung out after but am risking nothing at the moment and so headed for home and was in bed by midnight as a good cancer patient should be. She was really good yesterday, I wish I was in a position to help her in some way because it’s music that deserves a wider audience.
Anyway that’s about it, nothing particularly exciting to say or report but another ‘not dead yet’ missive fired into cyberspace (do people still use that term?)
I see my oncologist on Tuesday when I’ll find out more about results to date, treatment regime post chemo and long term prognosis. I know that radiotherapy is very likely to be a part of my immediate future, but how much and for how long remains a mystery.
Saw our friend Elisa play at the Knitting Factory last night and kinda wish that we’d hung out after but am risking nothing at the moment and so headed for home and was in bed by midnight as a good cancer patient should be. She was really good yesterday, I wish I was in a position to help her in some way because it’s music that deserves a wider audience.
Anyway that’s about it, nothing particularly exciting to say or report but another ‘not dead yet’ missive fired into cyberspace (do people still use that term?)
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Quick thought
I think I know what caused the euphoria...
Somebody hit this site having Google'd
"john inman widow twanky"
Made my decade
Somebody hit this site having Google'd
"john inman widow twanky"
Made my decade
Bouncing off the walls
For some reason today has seen me full of vim and vigor. I can’t remember the last time I had this much energy, it’s bizarre.. I’m still amazed when I ‘overtake’ someone on the subway stairs, or unthinkingly run to catch a train then catch myself – not out of breath, not vomiting, not searching for yet more tissues into which I could hack up bits of lung but upright, comfortable, ‘ordinary’
The last few months have given me a glimpse of old age – losing the feeling in my fingertips makes searching for change harder, buttoning up a jacket more of a challenge. Losing most of my lung capacity meant taking things more slowly, pacing myself, taking breathers. Yet still I find the sight of old people hurtling toward the back of a bus as the driver loses patience and hits the gas as they fumble for a quarter the most hilarious of things. Guess I’ve grown old rather than up.
Anyway 10.30pm and a crap book, two car magazines and the Russian edition of Vice await… it could still be a good night.
The last few months have given me a glimpse of old age – losing the feeling in my fingertips makes searching for change harder, buttoning up a jacket more of a challenge. Losing most of my lung capacity meant taking things more slowly, pacing myself, taking breathers. Yet still I find the sight of old people hurtling toward the back of a bus as the driver loses patience and hits the gas as they fumble for a quarter the most hilarious of things. Guess I’ve grown old rather than up.
Anyway 10.30pm and a crap book, two car magazines and the Russian edition of Vice await… it could still be a good night.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Rich white twat
A full day at work today for the first time since November. I feel strangely proud – even though the full day was made up of a call to a very nice man in London, a couple of hours watching some smart people play with three dozen pictures that we’d given them and a conversation with a guy about a very long lasting candy. So it was hardly ditch digging – but hey I wasn’t the last in or the first to leave. Whether this represents progress I’m not entirely sure.
It snowed today too. Properly snowed. A whopping great deluge of the stuff, with huge flakes swirling in the wind accompanied by a soundtrack of 5 million muttered “It’s April”s.
Big revelation moment? I had my shoes cleaned. And realized I was being overly nice to the guy doing the cleaning. This uncharacteristic pleasantness was triggered by the realization that I only know three real ‘hispanics’ – the guy who makes my sandwiches, the woman who cleans my toilet and the guy who shines my shoes. As a result I over compensated with bigger gestures, more energy and a $2 tip. However as I hit the street the sheer shockingness of the realization hit me and I found myself flabbergasted. Utterly flummoxed by my ‘rich white guy’ twatdom. I went all post stroke halibut about the mouth and everything.
Now I’ve never been one to look for a Rainbow Alliance tone to my friends, I’m not a collector – but the people I know in New York tend to be tall, white, skinny and successful. Had I ever thrown a dinner party here it would have been dreadfully ‘Peter’s Friends’… actually it would have just been dreadful. I have an aversion to dinner parties that can only be explained by my being utterly common. The very thought of having to maintain any conversation for a length of time terrifies me… the idea that that conversation be civilized is again numbing.
But that’s not the point. The point is that I have Hispanic people do the jobs that I don’t want to for less money than I really should be paying. Perhaps that the root cause of this cancer. Or not. Who knows?
It snowed today too. Properly snowed. A whopping great deluge of the stuff, with huge flakes swirling in the wind accompanied by a soundtrack of 5 million muttered “It’s April”s.
Big revelation moment? I had my shoes cleaned. And realized I was being overly nice to the guy doing the cleaning. This uncharacteristic pleasantness was triggered by the realization that I only know three real ‘hispanics’ – the guy who makes my sandwiches, the woman who cleans my toilet and the guy who shines my shoes. As a result I over compensated with bigger gestures, more energy and a $2 tip. However as I hit the street the sheer shockingness of the realization hit me and I found myself flabbergasted. Utterly flummoxed by my ‘rich white guy’ twatdom. I went all post stroke halibut about the mouth and everything.
Now I’ve never been one to look for a Rainbow Alliance tone to my friends, I’m not a collector – but the people I know in New York tend to be tall, white, skinny and successful. Had I ever thrown a dinner party here it would have been dreadfully ‘Peter’s Friends’… actually it would have just been dreadful. I have an aversion to dinner parties that can only be explained by my being utterly common. The very thought of having to maintain any conversation for a length of time terrifies me… the idea that that conversation be civilized is again numbing.
But that’s not the point. The point is that I have Hispanic people do the jobs that I don’t want to for less money than I really should be paying. Perhaps that the root cause of this cancer. Or not. Who knows?
Monday, April 03, 2006
Lessons learned?
Home alone tonight – so cold pizza and a can of diet coke for dinner as I ponder what to do about this blog in the absence of any real news.
The original purpose of fabulouslythin.blogspot.com was entirely practical – a place to house all of the information that so many people kept calling me to enquire about. Test dates, diagnosis, prognosis, treatment schedules and follow ups.
But now – 2/3rds of the way through treatment there’s less to say – I’ve slotted into a chemo routine. It’s comfortingly dull.
Of course there are odd things – whenever I think about the orange stuff that they push into me right at the end of treatment I shudder so violently items of clothing are thrown clear of my body. When I see a Hershey’s bar (I was eating just such a confection when they ‘glooped me’ for the first time) I have to fight the urge to throw up. Even seeing the empire state building go orange for the night had me throwing up into my mouth a little.
Then there’s my profound irritation with work – where good people are stretched too thin and bad people are paid too much. Where the clients get it and the internal team doesn’t and where an attitude of exasperated belligerence is the only cool thing to be sporting.
What else? Well there’s my teeth gnashing at the jovial demeanor that people adopt during short visits to the hospital. “Oh yes, the transplant is failing, the drugs made my testicles drop off and I have an appointment to have my feet amputated this afternoon – but you’ve got to laugh haven’t you?”
And of course there’s the fake flirting as sick men try to hang on to the last vestiges of their virility by making ever so slightly suggestive comments to the nurses.
You don’t see a lot of fear in these chemo rooms. You see people who have been placed on the conveyor belt and are just trying to hang on as long as they can without getting thrown. There’s a routine to cancer treatment that’s actually quite soothing. Something about having things on the calendar that makes you believe that you’ll be around to see them. “Twenty one weeks of treatment means that they think I’ll still be here in 5 month’s time.” seems to be the thought.
Of course what happens post treatment tends to be scarier. If you’re one of the 30% given the all clear you’re suddenly out of the institution and alone to ponder whether every cough, sneeze and splutter is the beginning of the end. And to go back to the life that everyone (including you) thought would be profoundly changed by a brush with mortality.
What have I learned throughout all of this?
Well I’ve learned that my wife has a capacity to cope that is astounding.
I’ve learned that the people I’ve met here in New York are good and genuine friends and that I owe them more than another disappearance to another continent and only occasional contact.
I’ve learned that white wine is the only alcohol that I really miss – and that it’s not the alcohol but the occasion (home from work, Jeopardy, veggie chips and a selfish half hour with my wife).
I’ve learned that people only talk of ‘hope’ when it’s gone.
I’ve learned that my head isn’t quite as weirdly shaped as I’d been led to believe.
I’ve learned to let go and trust… to give some control to other people, to offer some things up to the universe and to turn off the e-mail when I get home.
But I’ve not learned to stop blathering.
The original purpose of fabulouslythin.blogspot.com was entirely practical – a place to house all of the information that so many people kept calling me to enquire about. Test dates, diagnosis, prognosis, treatment schedules and follow ups.
But now – 2/3rds of the way through treatment there’s less to say – I’ve slotted into a chemo routine. It’s comfortingly dull.
Of course there are odd things – whenever I think about the orange stuff that they push into me right at the end of treatment I shudder so violently items of clothing are thrown clear of my body. When I see a Hershey’s bar (I was eating just such a confection when they ‘glooped me’ for the first time) I have to fight the urge to throw up. Even seeing the empire state building go orange for the night had me throwing up into my mouth a little.
Then there’s my profound irritation with work – where good people are stretched too thin and bad people are paid too much. Where the clients get it and the internal team doesn’t and where an attitude of exasperated belligerence is the only cool thing to be sporting.
What else? Well there’s my teeth gnashing at the jovial demeanor that people adopt during short visits to the hospital. “Oh yes, the transplant is failing, the drugs made my testicles drop off and I have an appointment to have my feet amputated this afternoon – but you’ve got to laugh haven’t you?”
And of course there’s the fake flirting as sick men try to hang on to the last vestiges of their virility by making ever so slightly suggestive comments to the nurses.
You don’t see a lot of fear in these chemo rooms. You see people who have been placed on the conveyor belt and are just trying to hang on as long as they can without getting thrown. There’s a routine to cancer treatment that’s actually quite soothing. Something about having things on the calendar that makes you believe that you’ll be around to see them. “Twenty one weeks of treatment means that they think I’ll still be here in 5 month’s time.” seems to be the thought.
Of course what happens post treatment tends to be scarier. If you’re one of the 30% given the all clear you’re suddenly out of the institution and alone to ponder whether every cough, sneeze and splutter is the beginning of the end. And to go back to the life that everyone (including you) thought would be profoundly changed by a brush with mortality.
What have I learned throughout all of this?
Well I’ve learned that my wife has a capacity to cope that is astounding.
I’ve learned that the people I’ve met here in New York are good and genuine friends and that I owe them more than another disappearance to another continent and only occasional contact.
I’ve learned that white wine is the only alcohol that I really miss – and that it’s not the alcohol but the occasion (home from work, Jeopardy, veggie chips and a selfish half hour with my wife).
I’ve learned that people only talk of ‘hope’ when it’s gone.
I’ve learned that my head isn’t quite as weirdly shaped as I’d been led to believe.
I’ve learned to let go and trust… to give some control to other people, to offer some things up to the universe and to turn off the e-mail when I get home.
But I’ve not learned to stop blathering.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Land of the living
Judith's friend Varya headed over yesterday and we managed to go out for dinner and drinks (I wasn't drinking)
It's the first time that I've been out and about at night in an age and it felt good to be back amongst the living... though the number of people flooding into Billyburg at midnight was shocking to these old eyes.
It's the first time that I've been out and about at night in an age and it felt good to be back amongst the living... though the number of people flooding into Billyburg at midnight was shocking to these old eyes.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
If ad men were doctors
I was just wondering what the world would look like if the world of healthcare was run like the world of advertising. Some things wouldn’t change – doctors would still have a distain for their patients built on an attitude of superiority. An attitude born of specialization.
Patients would still be the ‘stupid’ people who should unquestioningly take advice and promptly pay their bills.
But other things would change. Medical school would go out of the window. Hey, who needs all of that understanding how the body works shit when you might have magic in your fingertips?
If you were to apply the rules of an agency to healthcare you’d end up with a service populated almost exclusively by witch doctors. Guys who have never looked at liver cancer before but are certain they can cure it based in the success they had shaking a stick at strep throat.
That’s not to say that there aren’t people who know what they’re doing in an agency – but they’re dangerously outnumbered. And that’s a scary thought.
Patients would still be the ‘stupid’ people who should unquestioningly take advice and promptly pay their bills.
But other things would change. Medical school would go out of the window. Hey, who needs all of that understanding how the body works shit when you might have magic in your fingertips?
If you were to apply the rules of an agency to healthcare you’d end up with a service populated almost exclusively by witch doctors. Guys who have never looked at liver cancer before but are certain they can cure it based in the success they had shaking a stick at strep throat.
That’s not to say that there aren’t people who know what they’re doing in an agency – but they’re dangerously outnumbered. And that’s a scary thought.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
How fast am I typing
Faster than the downward trajectory of an X Factor contestant's 'career'.. that's how fast.
And on my new keyboard and newly Tiger upgraded computer
Why so fast? Mainly because I'm running late for work - but also because the dog is displaying an unnatural fascination with what lies beneath the edges of my dressing-gown.
Not much to say - more work today, trying to arrange a date with the doctor so he too can slap me heartily on the back over my PET and CAT scan results... and the worst American Idol of all time last night - send 'em all home
Wanted to be in London tomorrow. Have chest infection. Advised not to fly. Grounded. Bummed.
Ne'er mind
And on my new keyboard and newly Tiger upgraded computer
Why so fast? Mainly because I'm running late for work - but also because the dog is displaying an unnatural fascination with what lies beneath the edges of my dressing-gown.
Not much to say - more work today, trying to arrange a date with the doctor so he too can slap me heartily on the back over my PET and CAT scan results... and the worst American Idol of all time last night - send 'em all home
Wanted to be in London tomorrow. Have chest infection. Advised not to fly. Grounded. Bummed.
Ne'er mind
Monday, March 27, 2006
Work again
Back to work today - after a couple of shots of Velcade and that white blood cell thing that isn't Neulastra but sounds like its cuter sister; you know the one - the name escapes me right now.
Kind of wish I hadn't bothered going in to be honest. It was one of those days when lots of bits and pieces of the stupid agency shit that get in the way of doing the job seemed to come to the surface. You know the stuff - it happens everywhere and it's always petty and personal and political and pointless.
There was a time when I'd have cared; but one thing that I've learned over time is that office politics isn't a game that I'm cut out to win. So I don't try. These things are always molehills and I don't have the breath for mountains. I shall leave the politics for those with careers paths to carve out rather than cool jobs to get on with.
This sudden (and I realize uncharacteristic) high mindedness coupled with the very real possibility that I might actually live through this disease and come out with a reasonable lifetime ahead of me set me thinking - for the first time in a decade- as to whether this job is what I want to do with my life.
I've always loved what I do for a living, but I've never been particularly proud of it. Advertising has always seemed like such an easy and ultimately disposable job that when it came to the "things of which you are proud" list I'd always looked at other aspects of my life.
But when I got in tonight I looked at some of the things out in the world that exist only because one day I spotted an idea and then managed to convince other, cleverer, more creative people that it was a good enough idea to pursue collectively. Tp explore some.
And there's lots of stuff.
There are products out there that we have willed into existence. Companies that literally started as a note on an envelope under my desk and grew to be places where people are proud to work.
There are ideas out there, ways of thinking, that might actually have changed the way that some people looked at the world..
There are famous campaigns and funny ads and some gloriously stupid failures (with the caliber of people around me I have no excuse for my miss rate)
There are even some buildings that look the way they do because we had a good idea - and some corners of cyber space visited only because they house the stranger products of our over salaried imaginations.
But they're all out there, in part, because of this weird job of mine - a job where you spot an idea, bring people in to nurture it, defend it, build it and let it go out into the world.
So yes, it's worth doing. And yes I can be proud of it. And yes I'm going to say that I'm proud of it. And the next time I buy an ice cream that's half choc ice, half ice cream biscuit sandwich and very easy to eat (for some absurd amount of cash) I'm going to tell the woman that sells it to me "this was an idea I had once"
Kind of wish I hadn't bothered going in to be honest. It was one of those days when lots of bits and pieces of the stupid agency shit that get in the way of doing the job seemed to come to the surface. You know the stuff - it happens everywhere and it's always petty and personal and political and pointless.
There was a time when I'd have cared; but one thing that I've learned over time is that office politics isn't a game that I'm cut out to win. So I don't try. These things are always molehills and I don't have the breath for mountains. I shall leave the politics for those with careers paths to carve out rather than cool jobs to get on with.
This sudden (and I realize uncharacteristic) high mindedness coupled with the very real possibility that I might actually live through this disease and come out with a reasonable lifetime ahead of me set me thinking - for the first time in a decade- as to whether this job is what I want to do with my life.
I've always loved what I do for a living, but I've never been particularly proud of it. Advertising has always seemed like such an easy and ultimately disposable job that when it came to the "things of which you are proud" list I'd always looked at other aspects of my life.
But when I got in tonight I looked at some of the things out in the world that exist only because one day I spotted an idea and then managed to convince other, cleverer, more creative people that it was a good enough idea to pursue collectively. Tp explore some.
And there's lots of stuff.
There are products out there that we have willed into existence. Companies that literally started as a note on an envelope under my desk and grew to be places where people are proud to work.
There are ideas out there, ways of thinking, that might actually have changed the way that some people looked at the world..
There are famous campaigns and funny ads and some gloriously stupid failures (with the caliber of people around me I have no excuse for my miss rate)
There are even some buildings that look the way they do because we had a good idea - and some corners of cyber space visited only because they house the stranger products of our over salaried imaginations.
But they're all out there, in part, because of this weird job of mine - a job where you spot an idea, bring people in to nurture it, defend it, build it and let it go out into the world.
So yes, it's worth doing. And yes I can be proud of it. And yes I'm going to say that I'm proud of it. And the next time I buy an ice cream that's half choc ice, half ice cream biscuit sandwich and very easy to eat (for some absurd amount of cash) I'm going to tell the woman that sells it to me "this was an idea I had once"
Sunday, March 26, 2006
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