Life Is Sweet

Good evening, fellow travellers on the choppy seas of life.

Can I start by thanking those of you who have offered sympathy, words of encouragement and gentle rebukes for my last, rather downbeat post. One of the great things for me about the blog is that when I'm feeling down, I can tell the world about it, and your responses remind me that I've got a bunch of friends who care about me. And I mean that most sincerely, folks.

And sorry it's been so long since I shared my thoughts with you. There's been a lot going on: most of it, I'm glad to say, very positive.

Anyway, let's get the big stuff out of the way. The cancer has not spread to my lung. That's right: the dark cloud which caused the despondency in my previous post has been blown away. Although the experts had tried to reassure us that I wasn't carrying any of the symptoms of lung cancer, such as extreme breathlessness and coughing blood, they had taken it seriously enough to give me a scan and send some fluid off for tests. Inevitably, in view of my run of bad luck, Catherine and I couldn't help fearing the worst.

Well, we got a call at about 9 o'clock on Tuesday evening from Jo, the Ear Nose & Throat registrar at Barts, to confirm that the tests came back free of cancer cells. Nothing to worry about, apparently. They'll keep an eye on the fluid in the lung, but are hoping it will sort itself out.

Also - guess what? I'm drinking again! Now, many of you may think that this is little cause for celebration, given my fondness for all things alcoholic, and the possible impact on my recovery, but I don't mean that I'm down the pub every night knocking back pints. I've had my first glass of water for over two months, and it was delicious! At the ENT clinic on Wednesday, it was noted that the obstinate wound in my neck appeared to have healed. A quick swallow test, involving the consumption of a glass of blue-dyed water, demonstated that the neck was watertight, and I was able to swallow, albeit without my former gusto.

On returning home, I treated myself to a bottle of mineral water, for which I'd been longing for weeks. I also helped myself to a drop of the Muscadet Sur Lie which Catherine had so conveniently opened. I found the taste a bit overpowering, so I had to dilute it with quite a lot of water, and it took all evening to drink one glass, but it felt good!

Before I become too gushing with positive thoughts, let me tell you about one of the negative things we've discovered. Don't worry: it's not a major problem, so shouldn't dampen the mood too much.

Among the many drugs prescribed for my recovery, I have something called Fentanyl, which comes in the form of a patch, stuck to my back. Each patch releases its wonders over a period of 72 hours, after which it is discarded, and a new patch applied. On one occasion when I was in hospital, the nurse forgot to change the patch on the appointed day. This coincided with me suffering weird physical symptoms, including the shakes, feverish sensations (although my temperature was constant), loose bowels and irrtability.

I hadn't made the connection, but Catherine googled Fentanyl, and discovered that it is over 80 times more potent than morphine, and produces wicked withdrawal symptoms. Since my return home, I'v been trying to reduce my use of painkillers generally, but have found that failure to change my Fentanyl patch on time makes me feel quite poorly. I've suffered relatively minor symptoms, similar to those listed above, but we're convinced that it's down to the Fentanyl - or the lack of it.

This is my first experience of drug addiction, and we discussed with Jo at the ENT clinic the best way to end my dependence: a gentle weaning, or cold turkey? She felt that the former would be preferable, so we're going to try a smaller dose with my next patch change, which is due on Friday morning. If I come over all depressed in future blogs, bear in mind it just might be Fentanyl deficiency kicking in.

With things generally going so swimmingly, it will probably come as no surprise that the chemo and radiotherapy is going to proceed as planned. This means that next Wednesday I am going to endure a full day of chemo, followed by my first session of radiotherapy. Then daily radiotherapy for 6 and a half weeks, with further chemo on day 22 and right at the end. We're under no illusions: this is going to be horrible, but we're really quite buoyant about it. This treatment is a necessary evil in my journey to full heaslth, so bring it on! I may not feel quite so defiant once I get into it, but for now it's all good.

A trip to see the very impressive Dr Leung at the London Dental Institute on Tuesday gave us brief food for thought, as she examined my teeth and found that the nerves on two of them been damaged by the manubulotomy, and the jaw had still not completely fused together as well as she would have hoped. The various worthies (Dental, ENT and Radiotherapy) discussed my case, and - having briefly considered an operation to tighten my jaw and/or further tooth extractions - decided that the radiotherapy is the main priority at this stage, so we press on with that, and any repair work can wait until later.

I've also had my first meeting with the lovely Nancy, Speech Therapist at Whipps Cross Hospital, and I'm due to start my work with her tomorrow. Catherine has made it quite clear that she intends to chaperone, in case I should venture to suggest that Nancy might help me with my kissing problem (see previous blog).

Something else you might be vaguely interested in: I finally renewed my acquaintance with the kitchen this week, by cooking a scrumptious meal for Catherine and Lucy. I only have their word for it, as I was still nil by mouth, but I'm assured it was excellent. The dish was fillet steak in a Madeira jus, and the occasion to celebrate was Lucy getting an A star in her Maths GCSE, which she took a year early. I was glad to be cooking again, and of course got loads of brownie points for such a selfless gesture.

Finally, as everything in the garden currently looks rosy, today's hit parade is on a gardening / flowers theme.


1. Beware of The Flowers ('Cos I'm Sure They're Gonna Get You, Yeah) - John Otway & Wild Willy Barrett
2. Come Into The Garden, Maud - Derek B Scott (lyrics by Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
3. I'll Pick A Rose For My Rose - Marv Johnson
4. Wildwood Flower - The Carter Family
5. Thistles & Weeds - Mumford & Sons
6. (Nothing But) Flowers - Talking Heads
7. Flowers (Eurydice's Song) Anais Mitchell
8. A Good Year For The Roses - George Jones
9. Octopus's Garden - The Beatles
10. Hong Kong Garden - Siouxsie & The Banshees

Cheers!

RP