Wonderful hens?

Well that's one way to start the day. I ate two of my wonderful neighbour's hens' eggs. By which I mean my wonderful neighbour. I have no idea whether her hens are wonderful. Firstly I have never seen them because they live on her croft up the road behind loads of trees. Secondly I couldn't tell a wonderful hen from any other sort. I'm rather glad she doesn't have room for them in the garden next door. If she did have room and they did live there, they would come foraging into my garden and do even more damage to my plants than the dreadful cold winds over the last few days have done.

The journey down on a beautiful Sunday had been driving hell and took well over an hour longer driving time than usual. I returned from Glasgow on Friday with little traffic. I crossed The Minch yesterday evening on a ferry full of vehicles but with the area I usually sit in virtually empty. Given that I was almost the last car on and therefore almost the last passenger upstairs I was fortunate and got 'my' usual table. Despite the southerly gale the ferry crossing wasn't too bad.

I was down for my final drugs trial review. The trial is now over. It's been a great success and I'm still on the drug but the NHS is now paying. The best news for me, though, is that I shall remain under the care of the Oncology Prof who looked after me during the Trial. My visits to The Beatson will be fewer for reviews and scans but the intermediate interviews will continue but by phone or video. My August appointment is already in the diary.

My relatively short time in Glasgow was partly because I wasn't having scans and partly because Anna went to the opera in Glyndebourne and partly because I was very anxious not to leave my garden for too long despite neighbourly help watering etc. 

I left Lewis after the best day of the year so far on Lewis and arrived home to wind and rain. The photo is me getting ready to feed the birds this morning

It Takes So Much Longer Now

Somewhere about 40 years ago I went to the doc for something and he noticed a 'blemish' on my forehead which he regarded with suspicion. He gave my bonce a thorough going over and warned me that the type of skin I had would be very susceptible to UV damage and that I should ALWAYS wear a hat outside even if I was just bringing peat from the stack into the house.  He then sliced a little bit out of my upper forehead and sent it off for analysis. It came back clear. I have worn a hat ever since.

However living in New Zealand and spending much of my life in the sun on the croquet greens has taken its toll, despite me slathering myself with sunblock every day as soon as I had showered and topping it up at lunchtime too. 

A few years ago I got a Squamous carcinoma on my neck. I was referred to a dermatologist and our ENT surgeon removed it. Since then I've had several BCCs off my nose caught when she did my 6 monthly check-ups.

I was in seeing the doc about something last year over 6 months ago. He decided to have a thorough look at my head again. He spotted another BCC. He referred me to the dermatologist. We no longer have one on the Island so I saw a very thorough dermatology nurse who confirmed that it was, indeed, a BCC which needed removing. I was supposed to see the ENT Consultant next week but, Sod's Law, you get one appointment and another two come along the day either side of it. They happen to be in Ayr and are for the overdue-because-of-Covid replacement of my uretic stent so take precedence over a BCC any day.

There was something to be said for the days when the doc looked at you and just wheeked a nasty off/out.

A Drugs Trial

The drugs companies come in for lots of flack particularly for charges and profits. Regardless of that one has to remember that it is drugs companies who finance and develop new drugs.

I'm in Glasgow at the moment having just had my three-day 16-weekly review for a drugs trial which I've been on since September 2017. 

Briefly, my cancer started getting bolshie again in 2017 after nearly 20 years of various treatments since the operation to remove the cancer in 1998.

The Advanced Nurse Practitioner who has 'looked after' my treatment since 2006 asked if I would like her to see if she could get me onto a drugs trial which she thought might benefit me. She was successful and I've been on the trial since then. It was a 30:70 double blind trial which basically means that only the drugs company knows who is on the 70% having the real drug and who is on the placebo. The benefits for me were spectacular when I took the first set of tablets (which suggested that I was on the real drug not the placebo) because there was a dramatic physical reduction in the cancer indicators. Last year the results of the trial were sufficient for the trial purposes and the placebo users were offered the opportunity to go on the real drug. It's now coming to an end. However the drugs company now has to get the drug licensed in every country worldwide.

I was one of 48 UK participants out of 1509 volunteers worldwide in 36 countries.

This is one of thousands of worldwide drugs trials. Some will prove to be effective and some will not. Some will end up as drugs for patients and some will not. All cost a great deal of money.

When I was first diagnosed with my cancer the only treatments were surgery and radio therapy and hormone therapy. Over the years I've had all three. Now there are many treatments including various chemo-therapies and many more drugs. 

So whatever the reality of the profits and morals of the drugs companies I, for one, am very grateful that they take all the risks and develop pioneering drugs and treatments.  

Twenty Years On

On 3 November 1998 an event of great significance to me (if not in the greater scheme of things) occurred: I was operated upon for prostate cancer and had my prostate removed. At that time it was an operation involving major surgery and a long stay in hospital. Now it is possible to have it removed by keyhole surgery.

It happened as a result of my GP asking a consultant urologist to examine me and perform a biopsy despite the fact that I had no evidence of prostate problems never mind prostate cancer. Indeed to all intents and purposes I was as fit as a fiddle and felt great. The only problem was that I knew that I had cancer. I just had no idea what sort or where in my body it was. 

The rest of the story is history and I have been treated ever since as a result of the cancer cells that had already escaped into my body before the operation.

Those decisions by the medical profession as well as their skills have given me 20 wonderful years. For the most part they have been amongst the best years of my life and include a decade of a whole different life in New Zealand.

So today I shall raise a glass and toast the dozens of people in the medical profession, together with many other people, who have been instrumental in not only keeping me alive all these years but also enabling me to have a great quality of life.

Thank you one and all.

In Search of Cures

"It's how you tell them that matters." That's what is said about jokes, I believe. So entitling this post "In Search of Cures" sets minds off on a particular train of thought rather than if I'd said, for example, "In Praise of Drug Companies" which would almost certainly have elicited instant critical debate.

I've just spent three days in Glasgow: Monday and Tuesday having CT/MRI scans and a bone scan and Wednesday having my 16-weekly Drug Trial Review. All funded by drug companies and, in part, by cancer charities.

I don't know how many medical trials there are going on in the world at any one time but it is probably thousands and, of those, the majority will probably involve drugs and, therefore, drug companies.

I am a participant in a trial for a drug specific to the cure and/or prevention of prostate cancer: a cancer for which I was first operated on 20 years ago and for which I have been receiving treatment ever since. I understand that the trial runs for 6 years. I don't know how many countries are taking part but there are a lot of languages on the medicine literature.

The Trial is a 67:33 double-blind trial. A blind or blinded-experiment is an experiment in which information about the test is masked (kept) from the participant, to reduce or eliminate bias, until after a trial outcome is known. It is understood that bias may be intentional or subconscious, thus no dishonesty is implied by blinding. If both tester and subject are blinded, the trial is called a double-blind experiment. The 66:33 means that 67% of the participants get the real drug and 33% get the placebo.

All this is done to satisfy the drug company that the drug is efficacious. If it is then the results will be used to convince the powers that be in the countries throughout the world to licence the drug for general use.

I have absolutely no idea how many scientists and researchers it takes to produce any particular drug nor what a trial and, if successful, subsequent licensing costs. Back in 2013 in a BBC article it was said that patents are generally awarded for 20 years but 10-12 of those years are typically spent developing the drug at a cost of about $1.5bn-$2.5bn. The remaining years are used to make the profit before the drug is made by generic manufacturers. However lots of drugs never get past the trial stage and only a very small number of drugs are 'super-earners'.

I have little doubt that there is much for which to criticise drug companies but I shall leave that to others.

As a beneficiary of their drugs in general and of this particular trial in particular I have to say that I'm not feeling in a critical mood.

Uncertainty

Apologies for my absence from Blogland. It was simply caused by a lack of broadband connection at my friend's house. We travelled back to Lewis yesterday and arrived home about 10pm. Normal service should now be resumed!

 

I think most of us are more comfortable with certainty than uncertainty in our lives.

Returning to the cancer theme. The scans were all clear. This leaves the medics with a conundrum as to what to do next given that the indicators are increasing quickly.

Some of you may know that there are trials going on into almost every form of cancer and, doubtless, many other illnesses as well. Trials are something ’other people’ go on. One of my close friends has just participated in a trial for a treatment for people with advanced prostate cancer.

There is one for people with prostate cancer where there are no visible cancers. There is a chance that I might get onto that trial. The closing date is very shortly. Wheels are turning.

In the meantime I shall await developments.

The Blip: An Update

Just a quick update in answer, partly, to the myriad of lovely messages I have received. Sometimes it can be a bit of a challenge with phone calls, texts, Facetime ,WhatsApp, Telegram, Messenger, emails, blogs and Facebook (does anyone use Skype these days?) all going at the same time and I hope none have gone unanswered. 

I drove home to Lewis on Thursday in order to sort myself out mentally and physically. I had done something I cannot ever recall doing before (as close friends know only too well) and travelled light with one small case and only enough of everything for the four days I intended to be away (plus an extra day of course just in case). 

Next Wednesday I have the results of my cancer scans and should learn what is going to happen in the next phase of getting more post-cancer-operation use out of this body that I inhabit. After all next month it will be 19 years since the diagnosis and operation. Nineteen years which have included some of the best of my life. Indeed, with the ten New Zealand years, one could say that I actually had a whole new life during that time.

Anyway on Monday after a nurse has changed the bag on the tube sticking out of my kidney I shall be getting the afternoon ferry to Ullapool and then driving to friends near Inverness. On Tuesday I shall leave for Glasgow and at crack of dawn on Wednesday I shall head off to Irvine and an appointment with the person in the NHS who has been my liaison and point of contact and mental brick in my cancer treatment, to see what awaits me. We agreed that this time she wouldn't tell me anything until we were face to face. Whatever the scan results we know that the cancer is developing and has to be treated.

Then I'm hoping that, whilst I'm down, they will finish playing around with my innards and get my system up and running again.

Why am I telling you all this? I suppose it may be partly therapy. However I see people all the time who have cancer or get cancer diagnoses and see every emotion from pure negativity, to fear, to 'Why me?', to just ignoring it and hoping it will go away all on its own (it won't so deal with it!), to determination and positivity that would blow your mind (like Jaz in New Zealand who has been my inspiration for so long). I want to impart some of that positivity to others who may face that which I have faced and am about to face.

Thankful Thursday

I'm hoping that in order to send this I have an internet connection sometime today.  If I do, then that alone would be enough for me to feel very thankful this Thursday because I've had no really usable internet since Monday morning.  A great deal of my communication relies on an internet connection not just because of the computer but also because the mobile/cellphone signal here is such that we cannot get data and therefore cannot use many of the apps on the phone without wi-fi.

So I may or may not be visiting blogs depending on my access but I'm doing my best.

The other thing for which I am thankful is our wonderful health service.  I know that many of you in the US are not in favour of the public national health service we take for granted here in the UK (and some other countries in Europe too) but I owe my life to it and yesterday I benefitted, yet again, from the services of a first class surgeon and the team who provided her backup and support.

I had a cancerous growth removed from my neck.  It wasn't there six months ago and when it was removed yesterday it was affecting an area of about 20 x 15 mm - perhaps more.  Certainly the area of tissue removed was larger. 

It's removal will allow the treatment for my prostate cancer to carry on without any complications.

So this morning when I woke from a remarkably good sleep in the circumstances I was very thankful indeed for our health service and the people who staff it.

Now all I have to do is wait for an opportunity to get this post into the ether.

Thankful Thursday: Every Cloud

has a silver lining.

It's over five months since I wrote the last post on A Hebridean in New Zealand and today is the first time since I wrote it that I have re-read it in full.  I don't think that I appreciated at the time just how much I would miss New Zealand and my life there.  In fact from the moment I arrived back in Scotland the idea of not going back was banished from my mind.  I think that I must have been having a severe dose of reality when I wrote the post and that my optimistic me was on hold for a short while.  In fact I think that until last week I was actually sub-consciously more concerned about my cancer than I've been since 2010 and, perhaps, since I was diagnosed in 1998.

Today's reality is that I shall not be returning at the end of this month as I usually do and, indeed, it may well be that I shall not return this summer (New Zealand's summer that is). But then again I may. For many reasons it seems unlikely that I shall be able to resume my Godwit existence but I'm more optimistic now about a return to my other spiritual home.

My cancer treatment has been under close review since I returned  and a couple of weeks ago I had a complete set of scans which confirmed that no prostatic cancer tumours have developed in my abdomen or chest.  So the situation is that my blood count is increasing rapidly but is still low enough for hormone treatment to be delayed for a while in order to achieve maximum benefit.  Apparently that is because I am quite fit and the treatment has not had an adverse effect on me in the past.  So it looks like taking any decisions about returning to NZ for the time being are still on hold.

However who knows what will happen in a few months and I am now back in an optimistic enough frame of mind to believe that I shall be seeing The Family again in their own setting and that I shall again play croquet on the hallowed Marewa lawns: perhaps not this summer but certainly the following one.

Thankful Thursday or What?

I'm quite unashamedly plagiarising Jaz's post this morning.

I woke up and, having, grabbed my first cup of green tea (with lemon - very important!) I opened up the emails, Facebook, Twitter and the Blogs to see what was happening in the world.  The first thing I saw were the words 'Thankful Thursday or What?' and I thought 'Thursday!  Don't be silly.  It's never got round to Thursday again surely.  It was Sunday only a day or so ago.'  But, no, it really is Thursday.  What's more the torrential rain and strong wind and cold (9℃) of yesterday has given way to a beautiful sunny morning with and even stronger (Force 7) wind which makes the increased temperature (13℃) seem colder.  But hey ho c'est la vie.

Later:  Our dinner guest from last night - who stayed the night - has left and CJ and I are ready for our foray out into the world to shop and go to The Woodlands.

But this is Thankful Thursday.  Jaz pointed out the good fortune that she's had with her GP.  So I thought that I would re-iterate my thankfulness for the GP to whom I owe my life because he, like, Jaz's GP took me seriously.

Years ago I went to my GP (who now lives in New Zealand!) and said that I thought I had cancer.  I had no symptoms and no reason to believe that I had cancer and was really quite fit.  To cut a very long story short he took me seriously as did the Consultant despite all the tests prior to the biopsy being less than positive.  The result was that it was discovered that I did, indeed, have cancer and that it was far advanced.  The rest is history and I'm still here 13 years later to write this post.

So I want to follow Jaz in being very thankful for the medical profession in taking me seriously when they could well have taken me for a crank.

(Oh, and thanks to Jaz for the fact that I haven't had to spend ages deciding what new thing I'm thankful for this week!).

An Early Evening Ramble

I’ve spent the day sorting my computer files.  How exciting is that?  It’s been a fairly dry day and we were promised rain by late afternoon.  As I write this first sentence it’s 1730 (5.30 pm – I say that because I know that there are very considerable differences between countries as to how we talk about time)  the sun has just come out but if I look out of the house to the West and North the clouds don’t give me confidence that the sun will last.  Below the house near the shore a couple are just walking.  They are tourists.  How can I tell?  He has an umbrella in his hand.  No local would carry an umbrella.  Rain rarely comes without enough wind to render one useless.

I feel particularly sad this evening because I had a call from a former lecturer from Uni who became a friend and with whom I am still in touch.  He is having chemo for cancer.  A neighbour in Blogland has been told that she has an an intra-cranial mass.  Someone closer has been given similarly bad news.  A friend in New Zealand has just had an operation and finished radio-therapy.  I could go on.  I would usually be inclined to repeat the Gaelic saying that old age doesn’t come alone but even my former Uni lecturer isn’t much older than I am.  I could never understand survivors of a disaster who said they felt guilty for surviving.  This week I’ve had a similar feeling knowing that the cancer I carried for 12 years seems to have been seen off.

On a more mundane level some hens from about 100 yards away raided the garden this morning.  Cute they may look but the devastation that hens can wreak on a garden is not funny.  When I went outside I was not impressed by the fact that the cockerel ran away followed by the hen leaving the chicks to fend for themselves – they ran off in the opposite direction!

A neighbour’s cat decided to try and get a pigeon.  He wasn’t successful.

    

The new mis-fueling device is a lovely shade of pink.  Even without having to apply the correct nozzle before the cap can be removed one is unlikely to forget given its colour!

A particularly bright Greenfinch visited the feeders this afternoon.

And there were plenty of people down in the Bay including a wind-surfer.  I can’t recall seeing that particular sport in the Bay before.

And now to decide what to have for dinner.

Ayr

I stayed in Ayr overnight on Thursday.  Ayr is a small town of 46,000 with a long history (it was created a Royal Burgh in 1205 – 705 years ago) on the coast South and West of Glasgow. It’s an hour’s flight and an hour on the train with intervening car/bus rides from my house in Eagleton.

More specifically I was staying in The Ayrshire and Galloway Hotel.

 

It turned out to be a much larger hotel inside than the small frontage suggests.  Adjacent to the hotel is it’s restaurant (there is also a bistro in the hotel itself) called The Meridian.

If you want the perfect chip that’s the place to go.  I don’t eat many chips but when I’m eating out I often treat myself.  The food looked excellent and the menu is quite extensive.  Despite the wide variety of things on offer I decided to have fish and chips: a very good choice as it happens.  The batter was as light as a Japanese tempura batter and the fish was cooked to perfection.  Add to that the excellent and friendly service and if I lived in Ayr I know where I would be spending a few evenings!

Why was I in Ayr?  I was due to see the oncologist yesterday morning at the Ayr Hospital.  After the blood results which I mentioned a few days ago the Consultant was absolutely delighted.  For the first time in 12 years I have been moved from 3 monthly monitoring to 6 monthly.  In future they will have an annual phone consultation unless I feel that I need to see them for any reason.  How good is that?

I may never go to Ayr again!  For that reason, if for no other, I feel that I should say something about the place.  Yesterday evening I walked down the main street and was very distressed to see that there are dozens of shops vacant and for sale. 

 

There seemed to be a lack of 'quality shops and a greater than usual number of betting offices and cheap dress shops.  There is a general air of commercial despair in the evening when the shoppers are not there.  This morning I have to say that it seemed a lot more alive.  It would seem, however, that there are just far too many premises for the catchment area.

In amongst that the local Council has obviously tried to introduce an air of hope by some attempts to brighten the area up.  Unfortunately they are fighting  a losing battle. 

I Can’t Think of a Title

I know that I should be trying to find lots of interesting things to post like those of my Blogland friends.  However life has been too full on and I am way behind with my emails so I thought I’d do a sort of composite email of today because it has been a Really Good Day in some ways.

Yesterday evening Pat and Dave and seagoing daughter Kate came round to have dinner with me and seagoing son Gaz.   Gaz made sushi.  Like a twerp I didn’t photograph it.  There was a very large serving plate plus a dinner plate full of offerings.  “They’ll never eat all that” I said before everyone arrived.  Wrong!  The very last morsel did stay there for a while until Dave eventually agreed to polish it off.  Just after midnight we said our goodbyes and by the time the dishwasher had been loaded for the second time that evening Gaz and I fell into our beds.

Pat is not, I repeat not, a morning person.  I am.  Imagine my horror therefore when I was woken at 8 am on the dot by a text from Pat saying that she was down on the beach with Briagha (the dog).  How could it be that I was still asleep and Pat was not only awake but also on the beach?

Fortunately the day got much better from there on in.

I went to see the Consultant about my arthritic knee.  Met people I knew. Caught up.  Hugged (people I knew – not the Consultant).  X-ray.  Confirmed that the arthritis is still there.  Well that’s a relief.  I’d have been amazed if I’d made medical history and it had gone away.  So I have to come back in 12 month’s time.  That’s OK then.

Shopped.  Met people I knew.  More hugs.  This going away for 6 months thing is quite good!

Two weeks ago I had my bloods done (was it really two weeks!!).  Even though I’d had a check-up at the Doc’s since then I’d forgotten to ask for the results of the tests.  Just shows how worried I’d been!  The receptionist (another person I’ve known for 35 years – oh dear) printed them off and handed me them in an envelope which I pocketed. 

Went to book my flights for Thursday when I go to see the Oncologist in Ayr for my follow-up.  Ayr is an hour’s flight and an hour’s train journey from here.  While the ticket was being booked I took the envelope with the results out of my pocket.  My PSA reading is 0.00.  WOW.  It has never been that good since I had the cancer op in 1998.  The treatment last year seems to have worked beyond everyone’s wildest expectations.

I’m really rather pleased.

I had a hunch that Gaz might not be home for dinner this evening.  I knew that the weekend had been ‘interesting’.  A text early in the afternoon proved that my hunch had been correct.  I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

In the meantime I have a ‘free’ night for catching up.

Good News

I have just posted A Good Day And Some on A Life in the Day Of.  It's a slight expansion of this posting and there will be a follow-up over the next few days.

I had a Really Good Day on Friday. I went to Ayr to see the oncologist.  The consultation lasted all of 30 seconds. He asked if I had any lasting ill effects from the radiotherapy (I have not) and then said "Well the PSA count is about as good as it gets. I'll see you in 6 months when you get back from New Zealand." All this way for 30 seconds! I had a longer chat with the nurses afterwards because one of their number (who was at lunch) is shortly off to live in New Zealand. The others didn't know where though. By coincidence I have a theatre nurse and her husband living in The Cottage at the moment. They love it so much they don't want to leave! I can see me ending up in my own spare bedroom when I get back!

All the travelling on Friday (from 1015 until 1630) enabled me to do some reading and I managed the Times 2 Crossword (not cryptic!), the Codeword and the Polygon. I only failed on 1 clue in the crossword: Picasso painting inspired by a bombed town. Even with half the letters I just didn't know. Otherwise I was quite proud of myself.

So I bought a bottle of Champagne on the way back to Anna's. All in all it was, as I said, a Very Good Day.

Five Minutes Short

I couldn't decide this morning whether to give the posting the title I've used or 'You've Gotta Laugh'. Anyway the intention of this posting, I assure you, is to make you smile and for absolutely no other reason.

As my regular readers will know, I am in Glasgow during the week at the moment and I fly home to Lewis at the weekends. This evening is fly home time!

Every weekday I have to make the journey across Glasgow from Gaz's flat to the Beatson Cancer Unit for radiotherapy treatment. I was warned of various side effects the treatment could have and I mentioned one of them in Where The Sun Don't Shine. Well so far I'm doing good as they say. The side effects are manageable and people with a headcold are worse off.

However there is one side effect causing a problem. Well, actually it's not necessarily the side effect. Another way of looking at it is that there is a lack of public loos in Glasgow strategically placed on my route home.

One of the requirements for the treatment is a full bladder. No problem. But, of course, it doesn't empty immediately after the treatment and the critical time for me is 35 minutes after I leave the hospital.

The journey home time depends on the wait for the train but apart from that is approximately 6 mins to the train from the treatment area, 14 on the train and 20 from the station to the flat. That equals 40 minutes. And, of course there is usually a wait for the train even to add on to that. So the difference between journey time and time I can hold out is about 5 minutes at minimum and usually more. That can be critical. The mind makes the problem huger and HUGER as I walk up the hill to the flat. And then the three locks needed to undo the front door never open smoothly when one is in such a hurry.

Of course I could wait in the hospital and start the journey later but I'm not sure if that would work. And if I did that sensible thing then I would not have the fun of posting this. Anyway I have discovered a more enjoyable solution. Coffee!

I now stop at one of the cafés between the station and the flat and have a coffee and do the crossword before the walk up the hill. Neat, eh?

Before I Die

I can't remember (so nothing new there then) whether friends who had read Jenny Downham's novel Before I Die and extolled me so to do, did so before or after CJ had read it and blogged it on A Book Every Six Days. Anyway it makes little difference because this week I read it. I am so glad that I did.

The book is ostensibly written for the teenage market. How many teenagers would appreciate it I'm not sure because the possibility of dying or even the idea of dying is too far away. The Before I Die website précis describes the novel thus: Tessa has just a few months to live. Fighting back against hospital visits, endless tests, drugs with excruciating side-effects, Tessa compiles a list. It's her To Do Before I Die list. And number one is sex. Released from the constraints of 'normal' life, Tessa tastes new experiences to make her feel alive while her failing body struggles to keep up. Tessa's feelings, her relationships with her father and brother, her estranged mother, her best friend, her new boyfriend, all are painfully crystallized in the precious weeks before Tessa's time finally runs out.

Looking back over Andy's fight against cancer I see similarities of attitude on occasion; flashes of acceptance, optimism, anger, bitterness and so many more emotions that someone who has not faced the imminent probability of death by illness (and specifically by cancer) must find hard to comprehend. I certainly do. For most of us, the reality of someone young facing these emotional challenges is incomprehensible. But somehow the author guides us through the last days of Tessa's life with an astonishing understanding from all perspectives.

This is a book that everyone should read. I won't give a reason: there are too many. But, whoever you are, make sure that you have a large box of tissues to hand.

Quotes:

I want to live before I die. It's the only thing that makes sense.

How long can I stave it off? I don't know. All I know is that I have two choices - stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.

'What will happen if anger takes you over Tessa? Who will you be then? What will be left of you?'

I feel a strange warmth filtering through me. I forget that my brain is full of every sad face at every window I've ever passed.

'You want some sweet and lovely things, Tessa, but be careful. Other people can't always give you what you want.'

I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice.

I want to be empty. I want to live somewhere uncluttered.

A Rather Peculiar Sort of Day

Today has been rather an odd sort of day. I thought that I'd share some of it with you. I'm not sure why but I think that if one believes that a trouble shared is a trouble halved then a trouble publicised to the world become pretty minute and insignificant. Least ways that's my 'reason' for penning this.

Yesterday I called in to the Surgery and picked up my PSA results. "They're quite normal" opined the receptionist "Less than 4.5". That's quite an accurate statement for the normal person but I've never claimed to be normal in any way and, in respect of PSA (Prostate Specific Antigens) having had cancer and my prostate removed, the reading should be zero. Modern (and by that I mean in the last year or so) thinking is that if the PSA count doubles in six months then that is considered serious enough to take action (in the form of radio or chemo or hormone therapy). My reading has gone from 1.4 to 4 in 3 months. The Consultant this morning decided that action was required. Exactly what will depend on the results of the MRI scan and tests and so on.

I also had the letter from the hospital with my appointment with the Orthopaedic Surgeon to see what's to be done about my dickie knee.

And I've had severe toothache since the visit to the dentist yesterday.

And Muriel at The Shrub Stall didn't have the hebes that I want for the garden.

And the weather vane I bought yesterday won't give the wind direction which is a fairly fundamental flaw.

So on the way home from The Shrub Stall I called at the garden centre to change the weather vane. This turned out to be a very expensive mistake. I'm not sure why but I decided to reverse into a small but perfectly formed blue VW Polo. Somehow my eyes saw it but my mind ignored my eyes. What then happened was quite remarkable.

I returned to the garden centre and asked those within earshot if anyone owned a blue Polo. A young lady with her boyfriend apologised embarrassingly profusely and said that she'd move it. Given that it was parked at the pavement in a place where it could not possibly have obstructed anyone this demonstrated considerable consideration (apologies for the alliteration) for her fellow humans. I eventually convinced her that I didn't want her to move but just to tell her that her car had a new, small but equally perfectly formed dent in the wing which had been caused by me - or rather by me bumping 1.5 tonnes of assorted metals and plastics etc into it.

What then transpired rather surprised me. Instead of being angry she and her boyfriend were full of gratitude. That someone should have stopped and actually admitted they had done such a thing was almost beyond their belief. The theme continued this evening when they apologised over and over for the fact that this was going to cost me £150.75 after they had received quotes. They gave me the telephone numbers and asked me to speak to the garages.

So I'll send her a cheque tomorrow with my apologies for causing her the inconvenience of having to get her car repaired. After all, in the scheme of things, that which is a huge matter to a young lady with what must be her first beautifully kept wee car is of absolutely no consequence to someone who has just been told that 'it's only a matter of time.... let's hope that there's a lot of it!'

As Andrew said "It's a funny old world Dad."

All in all I've had better days.

And it had better not interfere with my croquet!