My first Monday at work in an aeon and by 4pm I was so desperate for something to do that I engaged with Pilar (the office mate formally known at Mari) in a spot of coffee-table making.
Amazing what you can do with a couple of cast off mannequins, a copy of the excellent but sadly not available in a store near you 'Hold My Skateboard while I kiss your girlfriend' (whilst, surely?) and too much time
Especially when you're bored. And I was bored. My data was showing that people liked to shop at stores located conveniently for them and appreciated fair pricing. More data was being purchased to prove that this was true regardless of how much money you threw at it.
I'm much more interested in the 'dog blanket' theory of shopping. That great prices are just that, great, until they start to attract people looking only to buy Cider and Dog Food - and buy them with the quarters that they've collected during the day. As my friend Kim always said - it's a fine line between thrifty and pikey.
Still I like the pic. MInd if Tuesday is as slow as today turned out to be I may be posting an installation piece made with these dummy's discarded legs.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Too fat to sunbathe
Call me uncharitable if you must but I’ve just had what should have been a perfect afternoon in the park ruined by people who insisted on removing their shirts despite the bodies that they ‘sported; beneath them.
As the weather got hotter (real-feel 41c) the sea of blue-white veined, gravity obeying flesh on display grew exponentially - until the entire park was alive with the sight of rolls of fat oscillating revoltingly with each step towards next grazing opportunity. And with the sound of saggy tits hitting flabby knee as women barely in contained by oversized, mismatched, bra and panties made beeline for the ice cream van.
It was revolting. A mass of overfed, under-shamed blobs ramming more and more barbequed food into their revolting gullets. Spitting onion as they asked for the next hot-dog, eyes darting around ready to glare at any slack jawed witness to the consequences of their gluttony.
Now I’m not in great shape myself at the moment. Which is why the T-Shirt stays on and the shorts do more than merely cover my nads.
What is it motivates these people? Sure there’s always somebody with a worse body than yours, but then there’s always someone with worse manners than yours and you don’t take a dump in the fruit bowl at dinner, do you?
I felt sorry for the realtors trying to flog their high end apartments with ‘view if the park’ – a view into an abattoir would have been more appealing.
So here’s a plea. Please, fat people of the ‘burg, keep the shirts on and the shorts long. In return I promise not to start a web site called www.see_the_freaks_eat.com and swear that I’ll not post your pictures there. Deal?
As the weather got hotter (real-feel 41c) the sea of blue-white veined, gravity obeying flesh on display grew exponentially - until the entire park was alive with the sight of rolls of fat oscillating revoltingly with each step towards next grazing opportunity. And with the sound of saggy tits hitting flabby knee as women barely in contained by oversized, mismatched, bra and panties made beeline for the ice cream van.
It was revolting. A mass of overfed, under-shamed blobs ramming more and more barbequed food into their revolting gullets. Spitting onion as they asked for the next hot-dog, eyes darting around ready to glare at any slack jawed witness to the consequences of their gluttony.
Now I’m not in great shape myself at the moment. Which is why the T-Shirt stays on and the shorts do more than merely cover my nads.
What is it motivates these people? Sure there’s always somebody with a worse body than yours, but then there’s always someone with worse manners than yours and you don’t take a dump in the fruit bowl at dinner, do you?
I felt sorry for the realtors trying to flog their high end apartments with ‘view if the park’ – a view into an abattoir would have been more appealing.
So here’s a plea. Please, fat people of the ‘burg, keep the shirts on and the shorts long. In return I promise not to start a web site called www.see_the_freaks_eat.com and swear that I’ll not post your pictures there. Deal?
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Girls in Playsuits
Saw this
Loved it
Store just down the road from us
(Drewbic has lots of great local shots on flickr.com... check them out)
Loved it
Store just down the road from us
(Drewbic has lots of great local shots on flickr.com... check them out)
International Man Of Mystery
All sorts of things happening this weekend. Can't really talk about any of them (on pain of death) which makes this blog entry rather redundant, doesn't it?
Read a lovely quote from (notorious short arse) Dudley Moore yesterday. When asked how sexually compatable he was at 5' 2" with a 6' female model he replied "It's easy. I go UP on her."
Made me smile anyway.
Work options opening up like a Christian High School Girl's legs upon the realization that a pledge of chasity is an elastic thing. Feeling wanted for the first time in an absolute age. Which is a GOOD THING.
One thing that near death experience has taught me is the value of savings... you just need some emergency cash, especially when you travel a lot and aren't in any one country's pension scheme. So am following Oprah's rule and 'paying myself first' each month. But work options could mean that I'll be paying myself a whole heap more; leaving Judith a merrier widow when the experimental drugs catch up with me and my body closes down, my internal organs turning to liquid overnight.
Sorry that this, like sex with a woman with osteoporosis, is so disjointed. Next entry will reveal all, I swear.
Read a lovely quote from (notorious short arse) Dudley Moore yesterday. When asked how sexually compatable he was at 5' 2" with a 6' female model he replied "It's easy. I go UP on her."
Made me smile anyway.
Work options opening up like a Christian High School Girl's legs upon the realization that a pledge of chasity is an elastic thing. Feeling wanted for the first time in an absolute age. Which is a GOOD THING.
One thing that near death experience has taught me is the value of savings... you just need some emergency cash, especially when you travel a lot and aren't in any one country's pension scheme. So am following Oprah's rule and 'paying myself first' each month. But work options could mean that I'll be paying myself a whole heap more; leaving Judith a merrier widow when the experimental drugs catch up with me and my body closes down, my internal organs turning to liquid overnight.
Sorry that this, like sex with a woman with osteoporosis, is so disjointed. Next entry will reveal all, I swear.
Friday, July 14, 2006
A room full of swinging dicks
Back to work today… the first day of the rest of my life and already it’s all change. I’m no longer the planner on all things vodka (I’m still not sure why) instead I’ll be spending some time on razors and lots of time on some business with a shiny patina and with mountains of cash attached.
Now the thing about mountains of cash is that they attract dicks. Of the large and swinging variety. The last time I saw so many dicks being so energetically waved was at Dieter’s Blue Light Lounge down one of Bangkok’s dodgier Sois. .
We have all the COs and HOs (Chiefs Of..., Heads Of…) interested. And that means lots of big theories, large scale 'investigations' and much for me to do. .
Two approaches then. The “You’re better paid but I’m better” approach (my preferred) or the “I thought you really had something when you said (insert something they’ve never said)” approach. I’m thinking direct conflict. Not because it works any better but because it will get me heard and make me feel better.
Still you can bet your TV's extended warranty on my pulling lots of faces like the one above before the month is out.
Now the thing about mountains of cash is that they attract dicks. Of the large and swinging variety. The last time I saw so many dicks being so energetically waved was at Dieter’s Blue Light Lounge down one of Bangkok’s dodgier Sois. .
We have all the COs and HOs (Chiefs Of..., Heads Of…) interested. And that means lots of big theories, large scale 'investigations' and much for me to do. .
Two approaches then. The “You’re better paid but I’m better” approach (my preferred) or the “I thought you really had something when you said (insert something they’ve never said)” approach. I’m thinking direct conflict. Not because it works any better but because it will get me heard and make me feel better.
Still you can bet your TV's extended warranty on my pulling lots of faces like the one above before the month is out.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Big nippled prick (y-thing)
Sorry - had to be done
Well 2 comments was all it took to convince me to 'keep on blogging'... I truly am an attention whore.
My parents leave tonight; usually their visiting a place is accompanied by war, pestilence or plague. This time nothing major - just a tornado and some flash flooding, other than that their visit has been uneventful; though the dog has been walked to the point of collapse (always a good thing)
Today's mad rant? That f*ck*ng GE ad where the woman carries a large pink cake with her wherever she goes (including into a public toilet) presumable because she can't find a spot big enough to accommodate said confection. Of course when she arrives at the party still balancing the now ebola covered celebratory dessert she finds that said refridgerator has bags of room and slips the pink plague in with a self satisfied grin. A voice over then tells us that the new GE fridge has an ice dispenser in its door (oh and that it's quite big)
Well how the merry hell did this get through research. I can only think that the 6 women in Jersey focus group (a kind of advertising Supreme Court) were too pissed on free Hungarian Red to raise voice in concern and that the 106 women that they stopped in a mall for the quant' work (a kind of bogus ad' election) were so mesmerized by the thought of cake or too distracted by the view of a pair of Elastic Waisted pastel Capri pants in the window of Old Navy that they merely drooled their response.
GE fridges - they're for filthy, OCD whores who'd rather poison your party than put down an over iced, under decorated bit of sponge. That you? Buy away
Well 2 comments was all it took to convince me to 'keep on blogging'... I truly am an attention whore.
My parents leave tonight; usually their visiting a place is accompanied by war, pestilence or plague. This time nothing major - just a tornado and some flash flooding, other than that their visit has been uneventful; though the dog has been walked to the point of collapse (always a good thing)
Today's mad rant? That f*ck*ng GE ad where the woman carries a large pink cake with her wherever she goes (including into a public toilet) presumable because she can't find a spot big enough to accommodate said confection. Of course when she arrives at the party still balancing the now ebola covered celebratory dessert she finds that said refridgerator has bags of room and slips the pink plague in with a self satisfied grin. A voice over then tells us that the new GE fridge has an ice dispenser in its door (oh and that it's quite big)
Well how the merry hell did this get through research. I can only think that the 6 women in Jersey focus group (a kind of advertising Supreme Court) were too pissed on free Hungarian Red to raise voice in concern and that the 106 women that they stopped in a mall for the quant' work (a kind of bogus ad' election) were so mesmerized by the thought of cake or too distracted by the view of a pair of Elastic Waisted pastel Capri pants in the window of Old Navy that they merely drooled their response.
GE fridges - they're for filthy, OCD whores who'd rather poison your party than put down an over iced, under decorated bit of sponge. That you? Buy away
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Back from Vacation
So we’re back from Anguilla, which was small, quiet and perfect for what we needed. Lots of beaches, occasional great meals in scenic restaurants and the chance to be ‘1000 miles from care’
It doesn’t seem THAT long ago that I was coughing up pieces of lung on the poor people unfortunate enough to be sitting in a room with me on the JetBlue pitch.
Or that long ago that I was crawling to the bathroom in order to throw up what I couldn’t cough up.
Nor does it seem that long ago that that I was walking to the doctor’s office in Greenpoint to be told that I had lymphoma but would ‘probably be alright after a miserable 6 months or so.”
And the six months since then haven’t actually been all that miserable. Certainly not in comparison to the misery that you’re told to expect. But then managing expectations is the key to keeping people happy, this I’ve realized.
I’ve been thin, fat, bald, swollen, nauseous, euphoric, knackered, jelly legged, mercury ankled, optimistic, pessimistic and realistic.
But I’ve never been alone.
And I have you people to thank for that.
What next?
A bigger fight I think. A fight against the prejudice that I’m now, somehow, damaged goods. A fight against work’s new found ‘wrap him in cotton wool’ attitude. A fight against falling back into the acceptance of mediocrity that’s so comfortable a cage.
And some new challenges. The next year should see a new job for Jude. Perhaps a new city or country as a result of that new job (and hopefully a new job for me if a move does happen)
What next? Most importantly a chance to live ‘off schedule’ – without treatment dates and SCAN schedules dominating the calendar.
I’m not sure how much interest there will still be in this blog, now that it doesn’t have the draw of imminent death – add a comment if you’d like to see it continue, otherwise I’ll let it do what I, to date, have not. I’ll let it quietly die.
It doesn’t seem THAT long ago that I was coughing up pieces of lung on the poor people unfortunate enough to be sitting in a room with me on the JetBlue pitch.
Or that long ago that I was crawling to the bathroom in order to throw up what I couldn’t cough up.
Nor does it seem that long ago that that I was walking to the doctor’s office in Greenpoint to be told that I had lymphoma but would ‘probably be alright after a miserable 6 months or so.”
And the six months since then haven’t actually been all that miserable. Certainly not in comparison to the misery that you’re told to expect. But then managing expectations is the key to keeping people happy, this I’ve realized.
I’ve been thin, fat, bald, swollen, nauseous, euphoric, knackered, jelly legged, mercury ankled, optimistic, pessimistic and realistic.
But I’ve never been alone.
And I have you people to thank for that.
What next?
A bigger fight I think. A fight against the prejudice that I’m now, somehow, damaged goods. A fight against work’s new found ‘wrap him in cotton wool’ attitude. A fight against falling back into the acceptance of mediocrity that’s so comfortable a cage.
And some new challenges. The next year should see a new job for Jude. Perhaps a new city or country as a result of that new job (and hopefully a new job for me if a move does happen)
What next? Most importantly a chance to live ‘off schedule’ – without treatment dates and SCAN schedules dominating the calendar.
I’m not sure how much interest there will still be in this blog, now that it doesn’t have the draw of imminent death – add a comment if you’d like to see it continue, otherwise I’ll let it do what I, to date, have not. I’ll let it quietly die.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Two week break
So with treatment over. the thumbs up enthusiastically given, the dog in the hands of the parents – it now being just 12 hrs ahead of our leaving for Anguilla - and with only one unique visitor to the site today – it’s time to wind down fabulouslythin – at least for the next two weeks.
Our flickr (www.flickr.com) pages ( search PEOPLE for stevenjude) will continue to grow and you’re all warmly invited to view them.
And I’m sure that I’ll be back here and trolling for an audience in two weeks or so. But in the mean time I’d like to thank you all for taking the time to read my self absorbed blather. To thank you for your comments, for your e-mails and for your concern.
But it seems apt that I finish this blog as I started it, fascinated by my wife and by what she’s about to do next. Now EBD (everything but dissertation) she’s courting and being courted by potential employers – here and abroad. “What next?” is the question that we’re asking and it’s great to be in a position to ask it.
I should get warm and wise and worldly here but the truth is that I want the time in Anguilla to serve as a punctuation – allowing me to really get to grips with what survival could mean for me – before I say anything.
So, for two weeks at least, I’ll leave you with a thank you… and with a few pictures that show the journey.
Our flickr (www.flickr.com) pages ( search PEOPLE for stevenjude) will continue to grow and you’re all warmly invited to view them.
And I’m sure that I’ll be back here and trolling for an audience in two weeks or so. But in the mean time I’d like to thank you all for taking the time to read my self absorbed blather. To thank you for your comments, for your e-mails and for your concern.
But it seems apt that I finish this blog as I started it, fascinated by my wife and by what she’s about to do next. Now EBD (everything but dissertation) she’s courting and being courted by potential employers – here and abroad. “What next?” is the question that we’re asking and it’s great to be in a position to ask it.
I should get warm and wise and worldly here but the truth is that I want the time in Anguilla to serve as a punctuation – allowing me to really get to grips with what survival could mean for me – before I say anything.
So, for two weeks at least, I’ll leave you with a thank you… and with a few pictures that show the journey.
Friday, June 30, 2006
It's the last day of treatment
It's the last day of treatment
My parents are here
Jude slept 4 hrs
Which kept me up
We're knackered
Too tired for cohesive thought here
More later
My parents are here
Jude slept 4 hrs
Which kept me up
We're knackered
Too tired for cohesive thought here
More later
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
For those of you
who are more interested in how I'm looking than how I'm feeling (the wise and the shallow) here's the latest pic.
Not a great deal to say here
3 more treatments to go, starting earlier today (Bing called at 8 in a right old tizzy, bless her)
The nexium seems to be holding the burning potatoes at bay, the Radiacream holding the worst of the burns at bay and no sign at all of a call from Michael Bay (which is okay, I'm holding out for Bryan Singer to direct the movie of the blog)
Weather continues to suck, weather forecast continues to tease with a 'return of sun in two days' prediction. Gnnnarrrrr
The nexium seems to be holding the burning potatoes at bay, the Radiacream holding the worst of the burns at bay and no sign at all of a call from Michael Bay (which is okay, I'm holding out for Bryan Singer to direct the movie of the blog)
Weather continues to suck, weather forecast continues to tease with a 'return of sun in two days' prediction. Gnnnarrrrr
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
How work feels
This is how work feels at the moment. I'm the baby. Sure the scary looking people may be well intentioned but from where I'm positioned it feels like I'm being led to an altar already awash in baby blood. Not entirely sure what changed to precipitate so many weird moments yesterday - perhaps my imminent return to the fray; but it was very, VERY strange.Never mind it's only a job and only 'for now' as the Ave Q puppets taught me.
Monday, June 26, 2006
I shot the sheriff
Apologies for the gratuitous use of 'blonde' but my sitemeter numbers are flagging and there's nothing like a bit of public nudity to bring in the college kids and Muslim surfers. The latter (said he backpedalling hastily) I'm sure search for public nudity, sex tapes and enormous bazookas purely to serve as evidence of the bankrupcy of the west. And for 'enormous bazookas'
Last week of treatment starts this today, though my enthusiasm has been dampened by the gray skies and mid 20s temps. Sunshine and 30 is only three days away they claim, I hope so - spring spoiled me and now I want gorgeous blue skies, a blazing sun and people dressed inappropriately for their size.
Anyway coffee going cold, dog needing out and Jude stirring - time to haul this carcass off the chair and toward industry.
Last week of treatment starts this today, though my enthusiasm has been dampened by the gray skies and mid 20s temps. Sunshine and 30 is only three days away they claim, I hope so - spring spoiled me and now I want gorgeous blue skies, a blazing sun and people dressed inappropriately for their size.
Anyway coffee going cold, dog needing out and Jude stirring - time to haul this carcass off the chair and toward industry.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The Mermaid Parade
Well the Mermaid Parade went off yesterday - and boy did it go off.
Went along with my old mucker from Oz - J.Lum and had a fine old time of it. This is about the only picture that I took in which the subjects are clothed to a degree acceptable by law - the rest? Well you'll have to click through and see for yourself.
5 more days of treatment and then I can be at this kind of event without thinking about being the sick person in the crowd.
Went along with my old mucker from Oz - J.Lum and had a fine old time of it. This is about the only picture that I took in which the subjects are clothed to a degree acceptable by law - the rest? Well you'll have to click through and see for yourself.
5 more days of treatment and then I can be at this kind of event without thinking about being the sick person in the crowd.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Jude got a new haircut
to go with her new body...
note amount of orange being worn - patriotism rises as the Dutch progress through the world cup
note amount of orange being worn - patriotism rises as the Dutch progress through the world cup
15 / 20
Treatment 15 / 20 today; so three quarters of the way through what I need to do.
Cool.
Diner 24, Mermaid Parade, BillyBurg short film fest, Pride and a movie this weekend - should get some great pics
Cool.
Diner 24, Mermaid Parade, BillyBurg short film fest, Pride and a movie this weekend - should get some great pics
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Another day, another session
Bit of a weird day today. Heard that one of the accounts I helped bring into the building had won major international awards; which is always good to hear – and proof that good work can get through painfully lax systems.
But on my major account I can’t seem to make myself heard. Frustrating as I have a solution to the problem at hand that’s as simple as it is elegant. Still I appreciate that people are trying to protect me from what is an insanely busy time whilst I’m less than 100%. They’re good people and well intentioned. I just wish I could get stuck in again. Three weeks. And counting.
Visit to the Russian dentist went well despite the screams of the man in the chair in the office next to me and the agonizing gurgles of the man on office beyond him. Nothing really needs doing (a first for this shamefully British mouth) though I’m going to have the woefully substandard crowns taken out and replaced with something that fits below the gum-line. Doubtless it will cost me a testicle, but hey I’ve one to spare and it ain’t doing much.
Check in with radiologist went well. All is good. Platelets down but only to 139 from 142 – so nothing to worry about there. 7 more sessions and they can spit me out of the system. At least until August and my first scans.
Machine broke down n me today as I was being radiated. Long delay by all accounts. I wouldn’t know, I fell asleep. ‘Bing’ found this hilarious and repeat ‘so to sleep, so to sleep’ whilst her shoulders heaved with mirth. It’s hard not to like her – hey I’m not even trying not to like her (but Margaret Cho will play her in the movie)
Enough semi-cryptic meandering – to bed with me
But on my major account I can’t seem to make myself heard. Frustrating as I have a solution to the problem at hand that’s as simple as it is elegant. Still I appreciate that people are trying to protect me from what is an insanely busy time whilst I’m less than 100%. They’re good people and well intentioned. I just wish I could get stuck in again. Three weeks. And counting.
Visit to the Russian dentist went well despite the screams of the man in the chair in the office next to me and the agonizing gurgles of the man on office beyond him. Nothing really needs doing (a first for this shamefully British mouth) though I’m going to have the woefully substandard crowns taken out and replaced with something that fits below the gum-line. Doubtless it will cost me a testicle, but hey I’ve one to spare and it ain’t doing much.
Check in with radiologist went well. All is good. Platelets down but only to 139 from 142 – so nothing to worry about there. 7 more sessions and they can spit me out of the system. At least until August and my first scans.
Machine broke down n me today as I was being radiated. Long delay by all accounts. I wouldn’t know, I fell asleep. ‘Bing’ found this hilarious and repeat ‘so to sleep, so to sleep’ whilst her shoulders heaved with mirth. It’s hard not to like her – hey I’m not even trying not to like her (but Margaret Cho will play her in the movie)
Enough semi-cryptic meandering – to bed with me
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
A wasted afternoon
Spent the afternoon in the pikiest dentist known to man. People were seen in order of familiarity. I was a new patient. So I waited. Taking in the vague whiff of dog blanket, the hasidic conversation, the screaming children and the bitter Polish receptionist. Then I left.
Tomorrow I try a Russian dentist. This one graduated in 1996 (the previous in 1966)... here's hoping he sticks to the clock
Tomorrow I try a Russian dentist. This one graduated in 1996 (the previous in 1966)... here's hoping he sticks to the clock
Still kicking
Ok so I have no chin, I look more like Moby every day and I seem to be obsessed with taking pictures from above - but for all of you wondering just how sick you'll find me should you visit here's the answer - not very sick at all.
Radiation at 1pm
Dentist at 3.30pm (and the shame of opening a british mouth in front of American dental professionals)
and then home to watch a TiVo'd England : Sweden
yahoo~!
Radiation at 1pm
Dentist at 3.30pm (and the shame of opening a british mouth in front of American dental professionals)
and then home to watch a TiVo'd England : Sweden
yahoo~!
Monday, June 19, 2006
Hot potato, knackered back
Ever swallowed a really hot potato and felt it burning your chest as it moved with an agonizing lack of pace down your gullet? That's exactly how every bite of food, hot / cold, large or small feels right now.
To compound the misery I seem to have pulled something in my back and can't get comfortable at all. Every Velcro tug on the leash is agony - luckily it's 34c and too hot for Velcro to tug, instead she plods, forlorn.
Had to cancel a lunch and plans for a birthday party tonight and 'bad back' is a flimsy excuse even when it's a genuine ailment. Feel awful and dishonest and just crap - when I should be feeling nothing but the vicodin coming up.
anyway short post as this chair hurts more than the sofa
To compound the misery I seem to have pulled something in my back and can't get comfortable at all. Every Velcro tug on the leash is agony - luckily it's 34c and too hot for Velcro to tug, instead she plods, forlorn.
Had to cancel a lunch and plans for a birthday party tonight and 'bad back' is a flimsy excuse even when it's a genuine ailment. Feel awful and dishonest and just crap - when I should be feeling nothing but the vicodin coming up.
anyway short post as this chair hurts more than the sofa
Sunday, June 18, 2006
A posh day
We had a great day today - the last day that we had use of Shruti's car.
We loaded Velcro into the back and headed for NJ (surprisingly posh) where the dog got to run (and run and run) around the yard / pool / house chased by a gorgeous brown lab retriever, we got to see some fantastically athletic horses battling the 35c heat and the day ended, as all days should with visiting South Africans, Rooibos tea, a hearty, fresh dinner and a real family feeling.
Fantastic day - and enough to make me yearn for the suburbs (if not another 'extreme commute'_
We loaded Velcro into the back and headed for NJ (surprisingly posh) where the dog got to run (and run and run) around the yard / pool / house chased by a gorgeous brown lab retriever, we got to see some fantastically athletic horses battling the 35c heat and the day ended, as all days should with visiting South Africans, Rooibos tea, a hearty, fresh dinner and a real family feeling.
Fantastic day - and enough to make me yearn for the suburbs (if not another 'extreme commute'_
Saturday, June 17, 2006
The baby Jesus
Somebody this week refused to believe that upon having been diagnosed with cancer I hadn't immediately fallen to my knees and offered up prayer.
Their argument was that, in times of trouble, EVERYBODY turns to prayer. But I can honestly say that I didn't. It really didn't occur to me. Now I know that some people have offered up prayers, lit candles and generally taken the time out to think about me and to those people I am grateful.
But the idea that I'd suddenly use prayer as a get out of jail card strikes me as more than a little strange.
And this person's insisting that I MUST have turned to prayer; that I was lying got further up my nose than the cat dander floating around our place.
Still it gave me a chance to use this pic - the Jesus in question beinng affixed to the rooftop of a house in a local Italian neighborhood.
Their argument was that, in times of trouble, EVERYBODY turns to prayer. But I can honestly say that I didn't. It really didn't occur to me. Now I know that some people have offered up prayers, lit candles and generally taken the time out to think about me and to those people I am grateful.
But the idea that I'd suddenly use prayer as a get out of jail card strikes me as more than a little strange.
And this person's insisting that I MUST have turned to prayer; that I was lying got further up my nose than the cat dander floating around our place.
Still it gave me a chance to use this pic - the Jesus in question beinng affixed to the rooftop of a house in a local Italian neighborhood.
Friday, June 16, 2006
So the pics have been random
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
have to say I love it here
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
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