Some words are loaded with menace and fear, like chemotherapy. Not a word I ever wanted to become part of my everyday discourse, and especially with reference to myself. It's a big brute of a word with for me mostly negative connotations. A word which I've now had to embrace and imbue with positive sentiments. Not easy when it involves filling my body with poisonous, toxic chemicals for eighteen weeks in order to make me better but meantime making me feel like shit. I should be grateful for small mercies, I have a seventy percent survival chance if I get through this. Some folk are not so lucky.
I started the latest round of chemotherapy last Wednesday at the Edinburgh Cancer Centre with two hours of intravenous chemotherapy followed by various flushes, washes, glucose and other stuff either to prepare me or to send me home happy. As usual the nurses and other staff at the Centre were excellent and looked after me superbly well. My big brother came with me to stop me running away. The temptation was there for sure. I got though it with only a wee small tear at the beginning then all was fine and dandy.
They sat me in a nice big comfy chair by the window, and I let them get on with it. Having a cannula installed is never easy but once it's up and running and the drip working the rest is easy peasy, you just sit there and let the lovely chemicals do their bit. So let's hope this is working and destroying all these evil little cancer cells that may or may not be swimming around in my body. Do they swim or run? Maybe they just stroll casually around chatting to their pals as they go on their destructive way.
This will be me for the next eighteen weeks, well seventeen now, not that I'm counting, but it leaves one hundred and seventeen days to go. It has to be done so I'm glad it's begun and I can now see the end of the road in sight. And it's coming on the fourteenth of May, seeing as you ask. I can just about see that last chemo tablet between my fingers just before I pop it in my mouth and it disappears to join the rest of them. How shall we celebrate?
Another five months of my precious time the damn thing has stolen, so I better get a few more months added on at the end times. It seems only fair. In fact a few more years would be better still.
I've been getting daily phone calls from Jackie, an oncology nurse at the Cancer Centre, for the past week. I find the quality of care and concern for little old me to be just incredible. She wants to know if all is well and no bad side effects. She became concerned about me on Wednesday and spoke to a doctor who instructed me to come in to hospital for an ECG and check up. This was when I was sitting in a cafe with my pal Kenny whom I hadn't seen for some time. He drove me to the hospital and gave up his afternoon for me. Thanks Kenny. My ECG was normal as was the blood test, so I was able to return home and get on with things. But daily phone calls seem destined to continue and I have to be prepared to go see them at anytime. Better keep a bag packed. All for now. Tired. Very. Lunch with NJ calls.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Mandy Frances Collins - 3/07/1961 to 2/01/ 2014
Those of you who have known me for some time will know that Mandy was Kieran's mum. Sadly she passed away on 2nd January having not been well for some time. Kieran took her in to stay with him and Kerry just before Xmas but she became very ill and was taken into Edinburgh Royal Infirmary at the beginning of the year. The doctors advised that she was not expected to survive for more than a few days. Kieran called me to let me know and he then phoned Chris and Johan, his brother and sister, who joined him at the hospital. They were then told that Mandy was not going to make it through the night.
She died at 1:40 am with her three children at her bedside holding her hand. I was sorry that I could not go and support them but I just did not have the strength to be of any use.
Her funeral service was on Monday 13th in Morningside Parish Church and she was laid to rest in Morningside Cemetery. Mandy had expressed a wish to be buried in Morningside, as she knew and loved the area so well, having spent so much time there attending hospital as an in-patient and out - patient and made many friends whom she liked to visit. She also loved all the superb charity shops we have in Morningside.
When she was a young person Mandy lived in the Ecumenical Stair Community in West Pilton, Edinburgh, which was run by a group of community ministers from local churches. Mandy kept in contact with one of those ministers over the years, the Rev Alan Douglas McDonald, who went on to become Moderator of the Church of Scotland in 2006 - 2007, and is now a minister in St Andrews Fife.
Kieran contacted him to let him know about Mandy's death and he expressed a wish to do all he could to help. He came down from St Andrews to attend the funeral director with Kieran, Chris and Johan, and arranged for the funeral service to be held at Morningside Parish Church, which is where the funeral service for John Smith, late leader of the Labour Party was held. It's one of the most beautiful churches in Edinburgh, so the good Rev says. Photo may be forthcoming, but I'm sure the web thing will have some too.
Rev McDonald conducted the service himself and gave Mandy a superb eulogy, which came from his personal friendship and understanding of her history and which made such a difference. I felt so pleased for Mandy. I don't know how many people attended but there were a lot there, including many young people, as well as her brother who had flown over from Boston, USA and her brother from Midlothian and other family members as well as people who had known her in West Pilton.
Her friend Crista, with whom she lived in the Stair Community, read from Corinthians 13, the congregation sang Morning Has Broken and Bind us together Lord. Lustily I thought. Kieran then got up and paid a tribute to his mum, which he did beautifully, and I don't mind saying he brought a tear to my eye and I felt very proud of him.
I will ask him for permission the post it on here. Meantime I'm sure he won't mind if I finish this post with the Native American Indian prayer he read as the final part of his tribute. I should maybe add that he had his 30th birthday between his mum's death and her funeral. Twenty two years since I first met him and his mum. The day is clear as yesterday in memory. Thanks Kieran. Here is that prayer he finished with:
Life must go on.
Grieve for me, for I would grieve for you.
Then brush away the sorrow and the tears
Life is not over, but begins anew,
With courage you must greet the coming years.
To live forever in the past is wrong;
Can only cause you misery and pain,
Dwell not on memories overlong,
with others you must share and care again.
Reach out and comfort those who comfort you;
Recall the years, but only for a while.
Nurse not your loneliness; but live again.
Forget not. Remember with a smile.
She died at 1:40 am with her three children at her bedside holding her hand. I was sorry that I could not go and support them but I just did not have the strength to be of any use.
Her funeral service was on Monday 13th in Morningside Parish Church and she was laid to rest in Morningside Cemetery. Mandy had expressed a wish to be buried in Morningside, as she knew and loved the area so well, having spent so much time there attending hospital as an in-patient and out - patient and made many friends whom she liked to visit. She also loved all the superb charity shops we have in Morningside.
When she was a young person Mandy lived in the Ecumenical Stair Community in West Pilton, Edinburgh, which was run by a group of community ministers from local churches. Mandy kept in contact with one of those ministers over the years, the Rev Alan Douglas McDonald, who went on to become Moderator of the Church of Scotland in 2006 - 2007, and is now a minister in St Andrews Fife.
Kieran contacted him to let him know about Mandy's death and he expressed a wish to do all he could to help. He came down from St Andrews to attend the funeral director with Kieran, Chris and Johan, and arranged for the funeral service to be held at Morningside Parish Church, which is where the funeral service for John Smith, late leader of the Labour Party was held. It's one of the most beautiful churches in Edinburgh, so the good Rev says. Photo may be forthcoming, but I'm sure the web thing will have some too.
Rev McDonald conducted the service himself and gave Mandy a superb eulogy, which came from his personal friendship and understanding of her history and which made such a difference. I felt so pleased for Mandy. I don't know how many people attended but there were a lot there, including many young people, as well as her brother who had flown over from Boston, USA and her brother from Midlothian and other family members as well as people who had known her in West Pilton.
Her friend Crista, with whom she lived in the Stair Community, read from Corinthians 13, the congregation sang Morning Has Broken and Bind us together Lord. Lustily I thought. Kieran then got up and paid a tribute to his mum, which he did beautifully, and I don't mind saying he brought a tear to my eye and I felt very proud of him.
I will ask him for permission the post it on here. Meantime I'm sure he won't mind if I finish this post with the Native American Indian prayer he read as the final part of his tribute. I should maybe add that he had his 30th birthday between his mum's death and her funeral. Twenty two years since I first met him and his mum. The day is clear as yesterday in memory. Thanks Kieran. Here is that prayer he finished with:
Life must go on.
Grieve for me, for I would grieve for you.
Then brush away the sorrow and the tears
Life is not over, but begins anew,
With courage you must greet the coming years.
To live forever in the past is wrong;
Can only cause you misery and pain,
Dwell not on memories overlong,
with others you must share and care again.
Reach out and comfort those who comfort you;
Recall the years, but only for a while.
Nurse not your loneliness; but live again.
Forget not. Remember with a smile.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
12 Years a Slave
Well that was just about the most memorable way to resume my cinema going I could have hoped for after my uncalled for break of three months. It felt so good to be back in a cinema. Definitely one of my highs since coming home. It's given me a psychological boost on the road to recovery, if not even a physical one. Thanks to John B for coming with me.
The film I saw was of course 12 Years a Slave, and what a movie to choose for my first outing. I'm sure you all know what it's about so I wont bore you with the story/plot details. The word masterpiece is probably overused, but I've no doubt that this will go down as Steve McQueen's masterpiece. I'm sure he will make more great movies but I can't imagine that he will ever surpass this one, or if he does we sure have some treat coming up. Well we probably do anyway, masterpiece or no masterpiece.
If you've not been to the cinema recently or for a long time I would urge you to go and see this movie. I can guarantee that you will not be disappointed. Just get out there and see it.
I tried hard not to get too emotional but he had me in tears a few times by the end. It's such a powerful piece of work you can feel it physically and in your soul. Chewetel Ejiofor gives an extraordinary, magnificent performance as Solomon/Platt, such an expressive face, you feel everything he feels, and suffer along with him.
All the performances are excellent. Michael Fassbender as the sadistic, drunken, rapist, slave owner gives a truly frightening, psychotic performance. Lupita Nyong'o as slave girl Patsey whom Fassbender rapes and abuses is stunning, in apparently her debut. Where she got it from is a mystery, but well done anyway and I reckon she will be around for a long time. Benedict Cumberbatch is good as an almost humane slave owner, or so he thinks. Brad Pitt comes on towards the end to help things to a conclusion. He's as good as you expect him to be.
It's a hard film to watch, almost unbearable at times but you have to keep watching, no matter that it hurts so much. There is a scene where a hanging is interrupted half way through and he is left hanging there only surviving by balancing on tip toe as life goes on as normal around him. Patsey brings him some water as he hangs there but no one else helps. Its a painful scene to watch and seems to go on forever. There are other similarly hard scenes to watch, where you just feel you should look away, but it's never exploitational, all justified.
Anyway that's enough from me about it. I cannot recommend it too highly. Stupendous stuff, which is why I love cinema so much, and miss it so much when I'm deprived of it.
Tomorrow I start my chemotherapy with a day in hospital. But more of that later.
The film I saw was of course 12 Years a Slave, and what a movie to choose for my first outing. I'm sure you all know what it's about so I wont bore you with the story/plot details. The word masterpiece is probably overused, but I've no doubt that this will go down as Steve McQueen's masterpiece. I'm sure he will make more great movies but I can't imagine that he will ever surpass this one, or if he does we sure have some treat coming up. Well we probably do anyway, masterpiece or no masterpiece.
If you've not been to the cinema recently or for a long time I would urge you to go and see this movie. I can guarantee that you will not be disappointed. Just get out there and see it.
I tried hard not to get too emotional but he had me in tears a few times by the end. It's such a powerful piece of work you can feel it physically and in your soul. Chewetel Ejiofor gives an extraordinary, magnificent performance as Solomon/Platt, such an expressive face, you feel everything he feels, and suffer along with him.
All the performances are excellent. Michael Fassbender as the sadistic, drunken, rapist, slave owner gives a truly frightening, psychotic performance. Lupita Nyong'o as slave girl Patsey whom Fassbender rapes and abuses is stunning, in apparently her debut. Where she got it from is a mystery, but well done anyway and I reckon she will be around for a long time. Benedict Cumberbatch is good as an almost humane slave owner, or so he thinks. Brad Pitt comes on towards the end to help things to a conclusion. He's as good as you expect him to be.
It's a hard film to watch, almost unbearable at times but you have to keep watching, no matter that it hurts so much. There is a scene where a hanging is interrupted half way through and he is left hanging there only surviving by balancing on tip toe as life goes on as normal around him. Patsey brings him some water as he hangs there but no one else helps. Its a painful scene to watch and seems to go on forever. There are other similarly hard scenes to watch, where you just feel you should look away, but it's never exploitational, all justified.
Anyway that's enough from me about it. I cannot recommend it too highly. Stupendous stuff, which is why I love cinema so much, and miss it so much when I'm deprived of it.
Tomorrow I start my chemotherapy with a day in hospital. But more of that later.
Tuesday, January 07, 2014
A Happy NewYear
A Happy New Year to one and all. I know it's been a while since I wrote anything on here, in fact not since I came home, from hospital, which seems just a tad too long, but my time and strength has been taken up with recuperation and recovery, which has been incredibly hard, and a lot more so than I had anticipated, so that's my ecxuse out of the way. And thats an awfully long sentence is it not?
I don't normally make New Year resolutions, or at least not in public, but I'm making an exception this year due to the unusual circumstances I find myself in. So two resolutions, firstly that this year I will devote all my strength and resolve to recover from this cancer - "not to lose the joy of living in the fear of dying." That's a quote, obviously, but I don't remember who said it.
And secondly, to write something on this blog more regularly, and at least once a week. So look out for that and get back to me should I abscond.
I met my oncologist, Dr McLean, back in December and she gave me an update on the pathology report. The cancer had spread to lymph nodes, and two were removed during the operation. They also found microscopic traces of cancer in blood vessels near the tumour. The tumour was removed and they are pleased with the fact that they achieved a good margin round the tumour. It all becomes quite confusing, if not a little stressful. The bottom line is that they no longer say that I will be cured of the cancer, but that I have a seventy percent survival chance if I successfully complete the chemotherapy course they have planned for me.
I guess that I would have jumped at seventy percent survival chance, had it been offered last May when the cancer was discovered. I would prefer the cure that was hoped for initially, but seventy seems like a good number, lets hope lucky for me anyway.
This is just a quick posting to get me in the way of writing again and remind me how to use blogger. It's easy to forget the daft little things blogger does to keep one on one's toes. Speaking royally as one does from time to time.
I won't bore you with details of my recovery since I came home from hospital, save to say that it seemed never ending and hard going and never to be repeated and thanks to all who helped me through that difficult time. You know who you are, and thank you all.
My life was confined to my flat for a few weeks and since then mostly to Morningside and surrounds, which is fine and dandy but I'm hoping to branch out soon, this week all being well. Reading is beginning to get better. I'm currently reading a biography of Wordsworth by Hunter Davies which I'm enjoying immensely, a book called Alone in Berlin by Hans Fallada, which was my Xmas present from Emer, and which is excellent and well worth looking out for, and I'm also reading my first book by V.S. Naipaul, The Mystic Masseur, which is excellent and makes me wonder why I've left it so long before trying him out, he is after all a Nobel Prize winner. I shall definitely be reading more of his work, probably A House for Mr Biswas, whoever he was.
I've been watching Breaking Bad and am now on season two and it's as good as everyone told me it was. I've not been to the cinema since last October and am seriously missing it. I seem to have missed some great movies, but I'm hoping to do something about that this week, so watch this space.
There now that's that done Donald and it wasn't that hard now, was it?
I don't normally make New Year resolutions, or at least not in public, but I'm making an exception this year due to the unusual circumstances I find myself in. So two resolutions, firstly that this year I will devote all my strength and resolve to recover from this cancer - "not to lose the joy of living in the fear of dying." That's a quote, obviously, but I don't remember who said it.
And secondly, to write something on this blog more regularly, and at least once a week. So look out for that and get back to me should I abscond.
I met my oncologist, Dr McLean, back in December and she gave me an update on the pathology report. The cancer had spread to lymph nodes, and two were removed during the operation. They also found microscopic traces of cancer in blood vessels near the tumour. The tumour was removed and they are pleased with the fact that they achieved a good margin round the tumour. It all becomes quite confusing, if not a little stressful. The bottom line is that they no longer say that I will be cured of the cancer, but that I have a seventy percent survival chance if I successfully complete the chemotherapy course they have planned for me.
I guess that I would have jumped at seventy percent survival chance, had it been offered last May when the cancer was discovered. I would prefer the cure that was hoped for initially, but seventy seems like a good number, lets hope lucky for me anyway.
This is just a quick posting to get me in the way of writing again and remind me how to use blogger. It's easy to forget the daft little things blogger does to keep one on one's toes. Speaking royally as one does from time to time.
I won't bore you with details of my recovery since I came home from hospital, save to say that it seemed never ending and hard going and never to be repeated and thanks to all who helped me through that difficult time. You know who you are, and thank you all.
My life was confined to my flat for a few weeks and since then mostly to Morningside and surrounds, which is fine and dandy but I'm hoping to branch out soon, this week all being well. Reading is beginning to get better. I'm currently reading a biography of Wordsworth by Hunter Davies which I'm enjoying immensely, a book called Alone in Berlin by Hans Fallada, which was my Xmas present from Emer, and which is excellent and well worth looking out for, and I'm also reading my first book by V.S. Naipaul, The Mystic Masseur, which is excellent and makes me wonder why I've left it so long before trying him out, he is after all a Nobel Prize winner. I shall definitely be reading more of his work, probably A House for Mr Biswas, whoever he was.
I've been watching Breaking Bad and am now on season two and it's as good as everyone told me it was. I've not been to the cinema since last October and am seriously missing it. I seem to have missed some great movies, but I'm hoping to do something about that this week, so watch this space.
There now that's that done Donald and it wasn't that hard now, was it?
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