Merry Xmas 2014

Happy Xmas to you all out there and thank you for keeping on reading my blog.

Another Christmas day upon us and I can't help but wonder how many more I have ahead of me. Let's hope lots but also be prepared for a different outcome. Today I'm feeling positive and looking forward to a bit of travelling in 2015, even if only in the UK.

Last night I had dinner with Neil and his family and got to spend some time with Keith who is home from Kentucky with Trish, who had a slight accident just before they were due to fly out. However no harm done and all well. It was great to see you Keith and I was pleased that you still remember my friend Iain McDonald and his songs, especially Santiago, which is a favourite of mine too. I'm not sure if Iain still sings it as he has so many new songs to sing, but I'm hoping to hear him next year and will ask him to do it one more time.

That you remember Blair Peach gives me much satisfaction and I'm pleased to know that he will continue to remembered by someone in my family. I don't think I still have that "Who killed Blair Peach poster?" It was seen by many people in my flat and became a bit torn in the end, but I will have a good look for it before I see you on Sunday. Anybody who doesn't know who Blair was I recommend that you read about him as he was an inspiration to many, and continues to be for some at least.

Thank you to all those who have sent me cards and messages and all those of you who have been to see me or are planning to do so. Don't worry I plan to be around for a long time to come so will be seeing lots more of you if we haven't managed to meet up to now.

I don't like to single out any cards or messages but there is one card |I received which was both a surprise and a pleasure. It was from someone called Rosemary and I hope you don't mind me mentioning you on here. Rosemary says on her card that we only met once at a class in Riddles Court, (a beautiful building incidentally), in the autumn of 2013, where we spoke and I passed on my blog details. I was unable to continue with the class because of the chemo and radiotherapy. Rosemary says she has been reading and following my blog ever since and decided to send me a Xmas card and to wish we all the best with things. So thank you Rosemary and everyone else who's sent me a card or a message.

I'm off now for Xmas dinner with my niece Anna and all her family, i.e. my brother Coinneach and the rest.

Emer Harkin

BI've not written anything on here for a while, as you may have noticed, as I've been struggling to adjust to my new situation with the cancer having taken off up to my lungs. I think I'm getting to some kind of settlement with myself and can see a kind of future however long or brief that may be. 

But I don't want to talk about that today but instead tell you about my friend Emer Harkin. I won't tell you how long Emer and I have been friends, but it's been quite a while and she has always been there for me, even when I've been a very stupid boy indeed. Emer is also one of my cinema going friends, when her work shifts permit. We have seen many movies together and not a few concerts. I particularly remember a Waterboys concert and a Sinead one, not to forget many times to see my friend Iain McDonald singing and playing his guitar. And Christy Moore of course and Jools when he was still in the band whose name escapes me, but you will know who I mean. 

Needless to say Emer has been a constant support over the past eighteen months. A few weeks ago she told me she was planning to do a Marcathon, which involves running three miles or 25 minutes every day for a month and asked me to choose which charity she should be supporting. It was not difficult for me to choose Maggie's Centre, Edinburgh which has provided me with much care and support since my cancer diagnoses last year and continues to do so. In fact I'm just back from our Christmas party. Sober. 

There are of course many other cancer charities which are worthy of support but Maggie's is the one that has meant so much to me, where I have made many new friends and worked with some superb support workers and volunteers. I have done writing classes, relaxation classes, meditation classes and go to a weekly support group there. And much else besides. I did bookbinding there last week and have produced a little booklet which I plan to give to a very special person in my life. I could go on about all the brilliant things that Maggie's Centres do all over the country but all I want to say is that it's helped me maintain my sanity in the most difficult of times. 

So to get back to Emer and her efforts on behalf of Maggie's, she  is now half way through her fundraiser and has raised over £700 and I'm hoping she will be well over the thousand mark by the time she finishes. I can't praise you highly enough Emer, you are one of the best if not the blessed. 

I'm asking everyone who reads my blog to support Emer and Maggie's by making a donation however small, as I know this is an expensive time of year, but I'm sure a little bit can go towards this good cause. Remember that Emer has to go out every day, whatever the weather, including Xmas and Boxing days and do her bit. She will of course be super fit after all this running so we can get her to do more sponsored runs next year. Don't you think Emer? 

Here is the link to her Virgin Money Giving page and if you do decide to support her maybe you could mention that you found out from my blog so that Emer knows where her support is coming from. Thank you all in advance. If link doesn't work go direct to Virgin Money Giving and enter her name.

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserPage.action?userUrl=EmerHarkin&faId=521928&isTeam=false

Oncology report

I saw my oncologist, Dr McLean, on Thursday. Coinneach came with me. She confirmed that a cure is no longer possible and that any treatment will be palliative, which was just a tad devastating, even though I knew it already. I hoped that something might turn up, so to speak, but no such luck. 

She showed us my lungs on her screen and pointed out some of the infected dell clusters. There are a lot of them, though nobody seems to have been counting. The radiologist report talks about multiple nodules, so I don't suppose an exact count is going to change anything. The biggest cluster was 7 mm in diameter and the smallest was 2 mm. She expects these to grow and eventually be the end of me.

As she has nothing to compare them with, there having been no sign of cancer in my last scan in November 2013, she has decided to hold off on treatment for three months then do another CT scan towards the end of February so she can measure the progress. I will see her in March to decide whether treatment would be appropriate then, or to wait a bit longer to see how it develops. More waiting. More patience required. Not my finest attribute. 

It's very strange seeing my lungs on screen like that, and watching her zoom in and out and picking things out, and casually measuring them. I couldn't get my head round the idea that what was on the screen was also inside my chest, and slowly killing me. Or maybe it won't. 

Dr Mclean was her usual impressive self. Different to Mr Speake in many ways but makes me feel confident in her decisions. Coinneach was impressed with them both, though surprised at Mr Speake's youthfulness.

I will stop now and pop out for a little latte. I've been to see The Imitation Game this week. Excellent movie. Four star at least and Cumberbatch is worthy of an oscar. Defintitely worth a few hours of your time. I don't know if I mentioned Mr Turner in previous posts. Also an excellent movie and another oscar performance from Timothy Spall. Hard to choose between the two but maybe Cumberbatch by a nose. 

Hotter new shoes and Mr Speake (no connection)

For the past eighteen months that I've been living with cancer I always thought I would survive it and come out the other end of treatment cancer free. The operations and treatment have been incredibly hard to live with but were tolerated with good grace in order to be cancer free. Now things have changed utterly, though no terrible beauty is born, and it looks as if I'm not going to survive it after all. Though one never knows and hope must remain, even if vanishingly small.

The only way I can describe the way I feel is that there's a deep sadness, an incredible loss and much confusion. Loss of my life, loss of love, loss of friendships. Not knowing how it all turns out for the world and all the things that mean so much to me. It doesn't look as if I'm going to see the revolution, but I thought we might have got closer than this. So come on folks get a grip and get on with it.

I don't feel anger or despair or depression, though it does hover about somewhere and I know I must do my best to fight it off. I have no intention of spending the rest of my days being depressed and sorry. Having said that it's still a constant struggle and I have to argue with myself constantly to keep going and to live for the future, however brief it may be. Concentration is frequently a problem and persuading myself that something is still worth doing even if it might be for the last time.

I took a wander down Princes Street yesterday and after visiting the Apple shop and not buying myself a MacBook Air or Pro ( which should I buy) I decided to buy a new pair of shoes from Hotter, who make very nice lightweight shoes, ideal for me. I'm sitting there being served and waiting for the guy to come back with my size and it's impossible not to think what's the point and then having persuaded myself that there was a point, a voice began to tell me that this could be the last pair of shoes I will ever buy. Terrible. So one has to pull oneself together and just pretend nothing has changed.

Sorry if I repeat myself in these posts but my memory plays tricks on me too.

Coinneach and I met Mr Speake, my consultant and main man on Wednesday. The team have reviewed my case and all agree with his diagnosis. Surgery of any sort is not possible or likely to be worthwhile. I will now see the consultant oncologist next Thursday to discuss possible treatment and prognosis. Sometimes I think I would like to know how long I've got and other times I wonder if that would be of any help. If she tells me I've got six months for example, is that good or bad? Would I be better not to know? I will play it by ear once I'm with her. I've definitely decided I want to see my scan on her PC, as I want to know for myself what my lungs looks like now, and how far the cancer has got, and just see for myself  this thing that wants to take my life.

Mr Speake spent nearly an hour with us and would have spent more if I hadn't made a move. I asked him about travelling long distance to Peru. He knew my desire to return there and had told me before that I would be able to return. Given my new circumstances he now advises me against long haul flights, on medical grounds, but says he would understand on a personal level if I decided to ignore his advice. I won't make a decision for a week or two, but Peru now looks unlikely. Which causes me more sadness, more loss.

Mr Speake has promised me that he will take his son Isaac to Peru some day, and go with him to Cusco and Machu Picchu, and he will think of me when they get there. I know that he will do that for me.

I want to thank you Mr Speake for all that you have done for me, for looking after me so well, for successfully removing my tumour from a very difficult location, and for making me cancer free in my colon. We were not to know that it would travel from my bowel and settle in my lungs. I feel that you have become my friend now and not just a surgeon treating me. I was very lucky indeed to have you as my consultant. I think that was just meant to be. Someone was looking out for me when they put me on your list of patients. So thanks again and you will love Peru for sure.

Orchids in Botanical Gardens, Edinburgh

Aeolian Harp, Botanical Gardens, Edinburgh

My Friend Miller

I have had many messages of support and good wishes from people here at home and from around the world. Thank you all. They all mean so much to me and it's good to know there are so many of you thinking of me. It gives me strength. Some of you have moved me to tears of joy and appreciation. All of them are special to me and the fact that I'm about to devote the rest of this post to one of these messages is no reflection on the rest of you.

My friend Miller, from Peru, has given me his permission to use his message on here. He writes mostly in English, any mistakes are my fault as I taught him, well just a little. His English is excellent. This is what he wrote:

"Amigo I just read your blog. You don't know how much I sorry, I could not believe what I was reading. Amigo I would like to be there in this moment just giving you a lot of hug and not separating from you anymore, you know I feel bad, really bad. You have been to me like a father, like a father that I never had, I learned so much from you, thank you for being part of my life. Thank to you I learned to listen to Bob Dylan and The Beatles. Of course you have been a good influence on my life. And I can say, no doubt, I am here on this ship thanks to you amigo. I showed you all I have, my family, my humble room, where couldn't fit more than two people, you met my disrespectful brother in law, which wasn't in my plan.

Sabes amigo quisiera ir a visit you.... pero no se como llegar, but no problema like you told me "be a man" "grow up" I will never forget your words. I will debark in three weeks, the only detail I don't know where the British embassy is located in Lima, but I will figure it out. Amigo I will tell you something that you don't like to hear from me, but I have to, God bless you. Te extrano un monton amigo. Espero escuchar pronto de ti."

I replied to him and he sent the following message:

" Wow, your words went directly and deeply into my heart. No I wouldn't mind if you put those words in your blog. Would be a pleasure my dear friend. I'll let you know when I debark. I have many things to do when I get back...............I need to visit my grandmother.... save some money for my future, time flies!! I need to study I don't have any support of them, so I have to work so hard.

I hope to see you back in Peru one day. You can do it mi amigo. You learned Spanish from the selva, from Pucallpa, where I was born. By the way how's your Spanish? Estas practicando? Quiero hablarte siempre en espanol, no mas ingles. Te amo amigo, te amo como a un padre, eso es todo lo que puedo decir.

I want to see you soon in Cusco and introduce you to my enamorado that which you always wanted from me seeing me with a girlfriend. and show you my apartment. I hope that my dreams come true, to see you again one day in Cusco. Finally I got a girlfriend, she is beautiful, cute, gorgeous, es muy bonito y la amo mucho. Her name is Kelly. I am sure you would be happy if you saw us together."

Thank you Miller for your kind words and for helping to make Cusco such a special place for me. I will never forget you. I hope to meet Kelly some day. Getting back to Peru to see you and Cusco and all my Peruvian friends is top of my list of things to do. Cuidate amigo.... hasta luego....

Yuri

A few years ago I had the good fortune to meet a beautiful girl called Yuri on a flight from Amsterdam to Edinburgh. We got chatting, as one does, or at least I do, and for some reason she seemed to like me and of course I liked her, so we became friends and have remained friends ever since. Yuri was at Edinburgh University doing her PhD but returned to Japan a couple of years back to be nearer family and complete her studies over there.

She has been back to Edinburgh a few times since then and has been here for the past two weeks to hand in her thesis, and we managed to meet a few times over a coffee.  Yuri returned to Japan yesterday.

On Saturday I met her to say goodbye and farewell, at least for this time.  We were able to spend a couple of hours together in a cafe near my flat at Holy Corner. Nice name that, means exactly what it says, as there's a church on every corner. Very holy. Though one of them is now a community centre named after Eric Liddell, the famous Scottish athlete.

As you can imagine it was a very emotional day for me. I tried my best keep control but this proved not to be possible and in the end I sat and cried in the window of that cafe as everyone walking by watched and stared. Well no they didn't stare but it felt that way.

Yuri, I want to thank you for all your friendship and love over the past few years, I forget how many, but lots. You are a beautiful person and I feel privileged to have got to know you. I am sure you will do well in future, I had hoped to live to see your success but that may not now be possible, but who knows.

Thank you for teaching me about your country and sharing your wisdom with me. As you know I had always hoped to visit Japan and visit some shrines and gardens with you and maybe even attend your wedding. I definitely plan to be at your graduation ceremony here in Edinburgh next summer. That is high up on the list of things I would like to achieve.

I am wearing the Buddhist Prayer Beads that Yuri gave me as I write this sitting in Caffe Nero. The beads came from Kasuga Grand Shrine and in Japan are called Juzu Prayer Beads. I know you told me the type of stone but I forget now. I shall wear or carry it at all times. I aim get to see the  Grand Shrine some day.

I know you meditate twice a day, Yuri, and you've told me you will include me in your meditations. That makes me feel good and gives me encouragement. Thank you and I hope you don't mind this public acknowledgement.

A Special Person called Sue

Well that's the first full day and two nights of the rest of my life successfully completed. I can't pretend that this is easy for me but I'm going to try to make the most of whatever time I have left. I will keep writing this blog for as long as I can which I'm hoping will be a long time. One of the most difficult bits is not knowing how long I've got, but then again none of you know either so we're kind of equals in many ways. 

I have to face up to my new circumstances and be realistic about my prospects. I could have many years left or I could have a few months, but lets not play at God and try to predict how long it is. It's less than I would have liked but enough for me to make the most of the rest of my life however long or short it may be. I will have to find something positive to take out of this. There are a few things I want to do, some of which may not be possible but which I'm still holding out for.

The team at the Western General Hospital discussed my case at their meeting yesterday and nothing has changed. From what I can make out the team sits in a small theatre and have the scans for all the current patients projected on to a giant screen, with the consultant radiologist there to explain and answer questions. They all then decide jointly what it all means and what course of treatment/surgery to follow. And with all these brains involved and it being one of the best hospitals for cancer in the country I think I can feel confident in getting the best.

Mr Speake will see myself and Coinneach in his office next Wednesday to talk it over again. He asked to meet me with one of my brothers so I'm going with the older one of the two, respect for my elders of course. But I don't think Neil will be disappointed at missing out. 

 I have an appointment with Dr McLean my oncologist a week on Thursday. She will talk things over and present me with my options. Could be they leave it and keep an eye on developments and maybe offer treatment later on. Who knows? Well I guess someone does.

In case you're all wondering, I did manage to hold myself together during my meeting with Mr Speake on Wednesday, or at least I did until the very end. I must say he handled it beautifully. I couldn't have done it better myself, and he wasn't holding back. He was very open, but so caring. I feel he treats me like  special patient, his friend. The only thing he didn't answer was my question as to what it all means in terms of time, but I realise he couldn't anyway, and I wish I hadn't asked. 

I have to give a special mention to Sue McKeen my cancer specialist nurse. She came into the consultation with Mr Speake about half way through. I guess they must have agreed that beforehand. I was so pleased to see her. She has been such a huge support to me over the past eighteen months, she has helped me through it all. I spent half an hour with her afterwards talking things over. I thanked her for all she has done for me and told her she was family to me. She told me I was a special patient to them all and that the whole team were very upset at the news.

She then walked me over to the car park and stood waving as I left. Where else can you get treatment like that. Thank you Sue, you are a very special person.

Scan Results

This will be brief. I've had my scan results from Mr Speake and it could not be much worse. There are multiple bilateral new pulmonary nodules highly suggestive of metastases. Which basically means I have cancer in both lungs and lots of it. It's not operable. The team will discuss my situation tomorrow and I will be told whether or not they will be able to give me any treatment, e.g. more chemotherapy.

So that's it. I'm off out now to think about things but looks as if I need to decide how best to spend my remaining time here with you all 

I will write more once my thoughts are clearer. 

Aeolion Harp in the Botanics

It's less than twenty four hours now until I know what the future holds for me and to say the least I'm apprehensive. It's probably the most important day in my life since I almost got killed by Jimmy Bullar's lorry, when it chopped my elbow off. Though I didn't know at the time how close I was to the end.

This is more difficult than my first appointment with Mr Speake. Then I more or less knew I had cancer and he was going to confirm it and tell me the extent and the possibilities. Now I know nothing and can't even begin to guess what he might be about to say. So my good friend Mr Speake it's all down to you now, so do your best for me.

I usually get there early to see him and just sit quietly in his waiting room. If he sees me as he calls in other patients, for he doesn't leave that business to his team of nurses, he will nod and smile. And then I wonder what his smile can mean? Is it a good reassuring smile or is he just being polite. Maybe I should leave it to the last minute before I go to his waiting room. Or maybe not. Probably not. Best not to change my habits now.

I will update my blog tomorrow some time with the news, whatever way it goes.

I made it to the Botanic Gardens on Sunday. Thank you Colin for taking me in your car, even though you did try to kill us both on the way home. I enjoyed our afternoon out. The Botanics were splendid with autumn colours but the highlight was the Aeolian harp which is designed to play in the wind, though it was not windy enough to play last Sunday. It was designed and built by Mark Norris, leading Scottish harp maker, and is made made from an elm tree which had to be cut down because of Dutch elm disease. It stands in a specially built pavilion, on the spot where the elm tree stood. I'm not sure if the pavilion is made from the old elm tree, I assume it is. It's definitely worth a visit and I hope to go back some day and hear the wind play a tune on it. I will post some pics.

Waiting for the man

I had my latest CT scan on Thursday and I'm hoping it's the last for at least a year.

There aren't very many experiences more lonesome than lying on the bed of a CT scanner waiting to be scanned, unless it's the bed of an  MRI scanner, which takes a bit longer and is noisier, like an old broken down machine trying to clank into life. The radiologist tries to put me at ease as he fits me up with yet another tube to deliver the contrasting fluid, or whatever it is they pump into my arm, talking about his football team, which happens to be Sunderland, for he's from that part of the world. Hard for me to build up any enthusiasm for his team or it's present plight. 

Then he disappears behind his protective screen with his mate and they leave me to contemplate my fate, as some disembodied voice tells me to stop breathing (or else), and then instructs me to breathe again, very rudely methinks. Can one say methought? Probably not; sounds stupid. Wee semi-colon there just for a laugh. It's all over in a matter of minutes, five or so, and then it's off to get tubes removed by a nurse whom I recognise from last year. He doesn't remember me and seems not to give a shit. 

The scan takes place in a mobile scanning unit which is run by a private company from North East of England and goes round the country helping NHS cope with the huge demand put on its services by us cancer patients. I don't remember any mention of this little bit of privatisation in recent referendum campaign when Alex promised no privatisation. It's not the only one that goes unmentioned either. But more of that another time, maybe.

So now I wait. I see Mr Speake on Wednesday afternoon to be told the best or the worst. The best I keep telling myself, though sometimes it's hard to keep believing. I'm impatient to get it over and done with and put all this behind me. The worst time, if there is indeed a worst time, is the thirty or so seconds as I sit down in the chair opposite Mr Speake and wait for him to start. I've usually had a good idea what to expect of him and Dr McLean, but this time it's a mystery. No point in trying to guess from his facial expression what's about to hit me. And it's no time for small talk or chit chat. Fortunately he is sensible enough to know this. I've just realised I don't even know what team he supports. All I know is that he is married and has a wee boy of whom he is very proud. 

Here's to good news on Wednesday and maybe 2015 I can travel again. Meantime I think I will visit the Botanic Gardens this afternoon, for it's a beautiful day here in Edinburgh. Hopefully Val's harp is blowing in the wind, if not singing even.

Scans and Things

There's an American family called the Kardashians you may have heard of. I always thought that they were an invented family from some American soap opera or comic strip, but I was mistaken. These people do actually exist. Or at least so says Peter Conrad in his Radio 4 series Twenty First Century Mythologies. Unless of course Peter is having us all on. Apparently one of these sisters, for they appear to be a family mostly made up of sisters, is married to a millionaire American pop star,capitalist/ businessman. Life is indeed strange. I can recommend the programmes though, which take their inspiration from Roland Barthes' essays Mythologies. 

I hope you've all been watching Grayson Perry : Who Are You? One of the best things on TV. Tonight is the last episode, so don't miss it.

This afternoon I'm going to see the film Mr Turner so looking forward to that. Will let you know how it goes.

I'm in a state of nervous exhaustion as I wait for my scan tomorrow afternoon and then a wait of a week to be told the results at my appointment with Mr Speake. Hard to know how I feel. Sometimes quietly confident and then at other times just a trifle worried if not terrified. Hopefully Mr Turner will take my mind of it.

All for now. Must rush.

The Permanence of the Young Men

My father, also Donald Maciver, died thirty years ago this month on the 7 th of October 1984. I was with him when he died, well almost as he died in between me sitting at his bedside and going through to the kitchen. By the time I got back he had died. I remember being annoyed with him for not waiting for me, having spent many hours at his side.

He has been on my mind many times of late. He died at the age of 66 of lung cancer. He suffered much but in the end knew little about it as the cancer had affected his brain. I think I was probably unfair to him when he was alive and well, and judged him unfairly. I should have tried more to understand what happened in his life. I wish now that I had been more patient with him, asked more questions, listened more, though I suspect he probably would not have been keen to talk. But I should have tried.

He lost his younger brother, Alex John, aged 20, on active service in the Second World War. I hope to write his story on here soon, or at least as much as I know of it.

The following poem is in remembrance of them both. It's by the Scottish Poet, William Soutar, who himself served in the Navy on convoy duties in the First World War. It's called :

The Permanence of the Young Men

No man outlives the grief of war
Though he outlive its wreck:
Upon the memory a scar
Through all his years will ache.

Hopes will revive when horrors cease;
And dreaming dread be stilled;
But there shall dwell within his peace
A sadness unannulled.,

Upon his world shall hang a sign
Which summer cannot hide:
The permanence of the young men 
Who are not by his side.

Coincidence of Roman Kings

I recently started an adult education class studying Latin. I had no plans to do so until I saw the class advertised when I was signing up for my Spanish class and it mainly took my fancy as it was a combination of history, language and culture which seemed just about right for me. I'm very pleased to have done so as it turns out to be one of the best classes I've ever attended. This is down to a combination of the quality of teaching which is excellent and also the combination of history, culture and language. I don't think I could have coped with two hours of Latin grammar and vocabulary and I have no need to become a Latin scholar, probably lacking the time too.

Our teacher is a young guy called Filippo from Pisa. An excellent teacher who puts a huge amount of effort into preparing and presenting his classes and emails his handouts and interesting links for further study. I missed the second class as I was unwell so I sent him an email to explain about my health problem and that I may not be able to attend all the classes, just depending on health progress and my recovery. Well you can imagine my surprise and delight to receive his reply offering to meet me for coffee on the following Monday to give me my own private class so that I would not fall behind.

I must admit I was slightly embarrassed to accept such generosity but felt it was too good an opportunity to miss. So there I was sitting in Costa Coffee at Holy Corner talking about the first seven Roman kings, the Rape of the Sabines and the rape of Lucretia, having already begun the study of the foundation myths of Rome in our previous class.

Some of you will recall previous mention in my blog of the Dylan song Early Roman Kings and my pal George sending a list of their names. I still haven't worked out why Dylan should have ended up writing a song called Early Roman Kings but I do know it's a fine song on the Tempest album and well worth a listen.

Filippo proceeded to write down the names of the first seven Roman kings, the early Roman kings of Dylan's song. He wondered if he could remember them all and he sure did.

Now that must be some kind of coincidence, surely. Or is it serendipity or are do they mean the same. I do wonder if George looked them up online or remember them from memory. Memory I hope. So tell us George! We should be told.

Billy Connolly

The Billy Connolly concert was superb. Laughed so much I was in pain. I think he gave me a hernia, the bad man. I was falling off my seat with the laughing. He must be the funniest, most hilarious, daftest, thoroughly Scottish performer in the universe. And needless to say the most outrageous, dangerously naughty, taking it to the limit many times till you're thinking God please stop Billy it's too much, but he just gets funnier and you hurt some more with the laughter and joy of it all.

He walked on stage to a standing ovation which seemed like it wasn't going to stop. He waved his hand at us to get us to stop "you're only doing that 'cos I'm no well." He started off talking about his Parkinson's and all the funny things it does to him, how his left arm tends to involuntarily drift upwards so it looks as if he is holding a raincoat, which sure enough it does throughout his performance. He was advised by Ian Holm to put his hand in his pocket if it began to shake which lead on to some funny stuff about visiting an art gallery and some unfortunate experiences viewing some nudes.

He mentioned his cancer at the start and promised to come back to it before the end, but either he forgot or he just ran out of time. Probably the latter as he was on stage for two hours and fifteen minutes of non stop performance. How he managed it is beyond me. I've seen many Festival Fringe comedians over the years and none of them give much more than an hour by which time they are usually exhausted and run out of material. Not Billy who seemingly could have gone on for ever, till he says " oh fuck that me finished" and walks slowly off stage.

He finds absurdity everywhere he looks and has the wonderful talent to turn the absurd into the most ridiculous long winded stories imaginable, sometimes appearing to lose his thread but always finding his way back, even though he has to ask once or twice "why the fuck am I telling you this?"

 What a comedian. Quite simply the best. I'm so glad that I had the opportunity to see him live for once in my life. I waited a long time for it but it was so worthwhile. Thank you Kieran for taking me. And I forgot about my own cancer for over two hours. A record perhaps?

A Night In the Usher Hall

Tonight I am having my first night time outing since my treatment for cancer began nearly eighteen months ago. So it's a big night for me. Let's hope I cope with it as I'm still not fully over my last operation to reverse my stoma. Wish me luck.

There aren't many people who would drag me out of my house of an evening right now. Perhaps Bob himself coming to Edinburgh. But an offer to go to see Billy Connolly in the Usher Hall tonight was one that I could definitely not miss. Especially given his own health situation and possibility this might be my last chance to see him. 

Kieran has bought me the tickets and I'm going with him and his girl friend. We often spoke about Billy when I used to take him out all these years ago when he was a wee boy. Kieran I mean and not Billy. So I was pleasantly surprised when he phoned recently to tell me he had bought  tickets for us. I've rarely been so excited about a concert as I am going to see Billy. So had to post this short blog to tell you all about it.

I'm now waiting for K and Kerry to arrive and I'm treating then to dinner before the concert, so better go and get ready now, not that there's much getting ready involved, just put on my shoes and have a pee. 

More tomorrow on concert. 

So it goes: Pride: Marvellous

Well that's it, the people have spoken and no independence no more, or at least for a while. Maybe the Catalans will do it before us. I'm not too surprised we lost so I wasn't too depressed at the result but I feel for all those activists who put so much into their campaign. It will take them some time to get over it but hopefully they won't give up on the activism. It's good for the soul. And God knows there's plenty to be active about. You may have noticed we're off to war again to kill a few more innocents. Will these people ever learn? I guess not. And what a pitiful sight Miliband makes.

My recovery continues at a slow but steady pace. I wish things would move faster but I'm glad to be feeling stronger by the day. My next appointment at the hospital will be on 12 November when I should be told the result of the scan they plan to give me to see if my body is clear of cancer. I can't say that I'm looking forward to it but at the same time I want it over and done with. I'm quietly confident that I will be able to live a more or less normal life after that. Let's hope all the treatment they've put me through over the past eighteen months has destroyed all the cancer cells in my lymph nodes and blood vessels and wherever else the little bastards were lurking.

I went to see a movie yesterday for the first time for a very long time and it felt good to be back in a cinema again. I saw a film called Pride with my good friend Emer. It was her birthday a few days ago so happy birthday, again, Emer. The film was excellent, funny, moving and in the end triumphant despite the final outcome of the miners' strike which is the historical setting for it. Some of you may know the background but if not it's based on a true story about how a group of young gays set up Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners and then proceeded to raise money for them and eventually made there way to South Wales to hand over their collections. Then it's all about what happened once they got there. It's a bit like Full Monty or Billy Elliott and just as good as both these films. I must admit I had a tear in my eye once or twice, especially when the miners' wives got up and sang Bread and Roses. Terrific. The soundtrack is worth a listen for those of you who were around at the time or even if you weren't. It brought back many memories of doing collections for the miners in and outside Argyle House, where I worked in those long off days, and then going out to various miners' clubs to deliver the proceeds.

I still remember some of the miners we met, but I can't seem to remember who came with me on those trips. If you were one of them let me know please. That year was also the year my father died and I spent some time back on The Isle of Lewis looking after him as he died. So it was quite an emotional movie for me one way or the other.

I hope you all managed to watch Marvellous which was on BBC 2 last week. It's what TV was made for. I've rarely seen a better made for TV movie. It's based on the true story of Neil Baldwin, played beautifully by Toby Jones, and set in and around Stoke on Trent, where I spent some very happy, memorable years in the sixties. If you haven't seen it I can highly recommend it and it should still be on iPlayer. If you're not in the country that's a shame, so go and see Pride instead. in fact see both if you can...

"So it goes" as Kurt Vonnegut said more than once in his novel Slaughterhouse Five. I think he used the phrase after every death of which there were many. He saw some terrible things in Dresden in 1945.

He also warned against the use of semicolons, calling them "transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing". So better be careful with my semicolons I think.

Independence

My good friend Angus Calder died six years ago. I can just imagine how he would have liked to be around now, getting involved in the independence debates and discussions taking place here in Scotland. He would of course, tomorrow, be voting for independence.

Angus was an author, poet, academic, historian and great company. He did like to spend time in various hostelries which I also frequented in the days of yore. Angus died aged 66, of lung cancer, same age as I am now and my father was when he died. Far too young to be going. He loved sport of all kinds, especially cricket and football. But no matter what the subject was you could benefit from an hour or two in his company to share in his his wisdom and knowledge of so many subjects. You can find details of his life, career and published work on Wikipedia and elsewhere on the internet.

I can highly recommend most of them but especially Revolving Culture, Scotlands of the Mind and The People's War. As I've not been able to attend any public meetings or rallies, health not permitting, I've been reading some of his work in lieu of involvement in any activities. I found the TV debates to be woefully lacking in inspiration on both sides.

In his introduction to Scotlands of the Mind in 2002 Angus wrote "Through the mists beyond our watershed, I hope that what I can glimpse might actually emerge - a nation without the disastrous paraphernalia of the nation-state. A nation empowered by acceptance of the realities of its past and ready to generate new Scotlands of the mind, and recreate itself as a land without prejudice."

In 1996 he wrote " I myself am not, I hope, swimming outside the current which is flowing to wherever it will flow, with whatever political, social and ethical consequences, over the year of the millennium, into an unimaginable future Scotland where Scottish identities, surviving, as I am sure they will, are constructed in ways which I cannot foresee, through language in its habitual state of flux and new songs transforming old ones......."

What a shame that he is not here to see a new song , hopefully, tomorrow. But I'm sure he is looking down on us, willing us on to make the right decision.

Angus says that one time in 1975 he was at a conference in Stirling University, when he saw Hugh MacDiarmid and Norman MacCaig sitting at a window seat in the refectory, so he went to join them, shyly. The Vietnam War was still in progress and the Vietcong were winning and the two of them were arguing about it with MacCaig trying to persuade, unsucessfully, MacDiarmid to give up his support for the guerillas. Angus describes it as some show. Wish I could have been there. I met MacCaig a few times and was lucky to spend time in his company, but thats a story or stories for another day.

Anyway enough of that sideshow. I think I've know all along how I would be voting tomorrow, but felt it was only right to give the matter plenty of thought and consideration. Especially so as my vote will be a vote for the future, and for future generations, even allowing for the fact that I intend to go on living for many years to come, this is still a vote for the younger generation. So it's even more important that I get it right for them.

Tomorrow I will be voting yes for an independent Scotland, with hope for a better future, knowing that it won't be easy, but in the end that its the right thing to do. For future generations but also for the people like my friend Angus who are no longer with us to participate.

I have to close now as I have a coffee date with my friend and teacher Marian, so musn't be late.

Like the man said vote early and vote often.

Onwards and Upwards

Apologies to those of you who have been checking my blog and looking for updates since my last post in July, I know there are a few of you as it's been viewed nearly a thousand times since then, but here I am rather belatedly but thankfully.

I started this blog in 2006 and didn't expect it to become an account of my cancer life, but I guess it's just as well. I still hope to go back to Peru and South America and write more about that wonderful place and it's people. However it seems to be retreating further into the distant future. I remember my surgeon, the exceptionally talented Mr Speake, telling me in June 2013, that he would have me ready to travel by November 2014. Not likely now, though I'm definitely hoping for some time in 2015.

Mr Speake successfully operated on me, for the third time in a year, on 24 July. After which I spent fifteen long days in hospital, until I eventually had to ask them to let me go as I seemed to have come to a dead end in my recovery, and in any case staying one more day would have meant two more days for various reasons which needn't dedain us here.

So I got home on 7 August and been recuperating ever since then and still visiting my nurse twice a week to change the dressing on my surgery wound, which is taking an awful long time to heal, as my body is so battered and bruised, it's struggling to get back to normal.

The five months of chemotherapy has left me with something called peripheral neuropathy in the soles of my feet, which means that the nerve ends have been affected and have decided to die on me. I've been to see a palliative care specialist who gave me some re assurance, in so far as being able to tell me that my feet were not about to drop off or are ever likely to need amputation, which was a great relief. My feet may or may not recover, but from what he said it looks as if I'm going to have to live with it, but the next six months will be decisive. And hopefully it won't get worse. He didn't seem to think it would.

Sometimes I get annoyed with my body for letting me down in so many ways, but then when I look back on life I have to be grateful it's carried me this far, through thick and thin so to speak. I have tested it's patience to the very limits of it's endurance, many times, so I have to accept this little diversion it's put in my way. We go onwards and upwards together. I reckon if I speak nicely about it things can only get better.

Thats all for now. Tomorrow I will tell you all how I intend to vote in the referendum, which I'm sure you've all heard about and had enough of by now. But let's face it, it is the most momentous day in Scottish history for many a long day, some say 300 years, though I'm not sure about that, but long enough to make us all think long and hard about our vote. So look out for my posting tomorrow.

Preparing for hospital

It's a beautiful day in Edinburgh and I'm preparing to go into hospital tomorrow. The joy. But let's be thankful for progress. I'm actually looking forward to going in this time as I should come out a whole person again and I'm not due to have any bits removed or added. So let's keep it that way.

Just wanted to post these couple of pics of our babies and I'm now going for a wee walk round the pond just to make sure all well there and wish the birds all the best until I come back. Though I do know my good friend John L will be keeping an eye on things as he walks all the dogs that are often left in his care. He has three fostered as we speak. 

I will post a couple of photos later if I manage to take any good ones. I've got some photos of Ben and Zoe at the RLS statue in Colinton which I hope their mum and dad will allow me to post in here. 

All for now I'm off to find the sun...

Blackford Cygnets, June 2014, six survived

Another Operation

Yes I know it's been a while since we last conversed despite my promises of regular updates. My only excuse is that I've been in and out of hospital as an in patient and day patient for past few weeks. This was in order to get topped up with fluids as I was becoming dehydrated due to the after effects of the chemo and my stoma being over productive. This has caused me to be incredibly tired and not in any condition to write my blog or much else besides.

The good news is that my wonderful oncologist Dr McLean has spoken to my surgeon Mr Speake and following a successful contrast scan I'm going into hospital on Wednesday to have my stoma reversed. The operation will be on Thursday morning first thing. This is one of the best pieces of news I've had for a long time and I hope signals my entry into the final straight of my treatment. Let's hope so anyway. The final hurdle will be in November, of course, when I have my MRI scan. But I remain quietly confident for that.

This will mean that I will miss most of the Edinburgh Festival and Fringe Festival. Fortunately I had not bought any tickets in advance, even though there are a few performances which I would like to see. Hopefully I will be out of hospital, and fit enough, in time to catch a play or two before the end of August.

I've just watched Rory McIlroy win the Open and congratulations to him. He seems a fine young man and a credit to his family. His father and some of his mates put a bet on when Rory was 15 that he would win the Open by the time he was 26. They got £100 on at odds of 500 to 1. That's a nice little bet. Guess the boys will be having a few little whiskies tonight.

On other sporting fronts it was nice to see Germany win the world cup after a great tournament, which I seem to have watched in its entirety; so thank goodness it was one of the best ever. Now looking forward to the new Premier Leasgue season with our new manager Van Gaal in charge.

You will all be pleased to hear that I can now spell cygnets correctly. I blame spell checker myself and thank you to the eagle eye who spotted spell checks mistake. It won't do it again. The good news is that the cygnets are doing well though we have lost one and are now down to six. One got trapped in some low hanging branches and had to be rescued by RSPCA folk. Maybe it didn't survive the ordeal. The baby coots have all survived. I will post some recent photos from the pond later tonight.

An short update on cancer ward

A lot has happened health wise since my last entry on here, so much I don't know where to start. The main thing is that my chemo has come to an end. When I arrived at hospital for my seventh and final round of chemo to commence on 5 th June the doctors decided that they could not let me home as my white cell count was so low and especially because I was dehydrated yet again. I was kept in hospital for four nights until the Monday. 

My consultant, Dr McLean came to see me a few times while I was there and the upshot was that she decided that I should not have anymore chemo, as she feared it would do permanent damage to my poor organs , especially my kidneys. However she assures me that this should have no impact on the final outcome of my treatment. The plan still remains a complete cure. 

It's a huge relief to know that I will not have any more chemo to cope with. I feel mentally and psychologically better as a result, though a bit disappointed the way it all happened. I would have preferred to get through the last cycle and not to have it cancelled, but I've now accepted that decision and getting on with things. I will see Dr McLean again on July but won't know whether or not all that chemo was worth it, until I have my scan in November. It seems a long time to wait but once again I shall be patient. Patience not being my greatest virtue. Goodness knows where I've found the patience to cope since being diagnosed with cancer over a year ago. Last May in fact. Mind you my surgeon did warn me to set aside at least a year for the whole procees to be completed. 

I saw Mr Speake,my surgeon again last week. He hopes to be able to operate to reverse my stoma later this summer and maybe as early as July, though I need a contrast scan on the operation area before then and somehow I think he is being optimistic. 

That's all for now folks. I hope to be able to spend less time writing about my health and concentrate on other things, now that I'm not actually undergoing any treatment. First stop will be Blackford Pond. 

A Motto for Life

I should have started my sixth and final cycle of chemo on Monday 2 June but my neutrophils let me down again. Very low this time. And there was me thinking that after my stay in hospital I would be a lot fitter and ready for my final fling with the chemo. But no such luck; the nurses said why change now? 

For the scientists among you a neutrophil is a phagocytic white blood cell having a lobulate nucleus and neutrophil granules in the cytoplasm and the little buggers have given me much grief over the last six months which is strange as I never knew I had them before.

The plan now is to go back tomorrow, Thursday, to try again. But mustn't raise my hopes as nurses on Ward One thought my neutrophils were on a downward trajectory so may not have recovered by tomorrow. I won't be having any more intravenous chemo, just the tablets, as Dr McLean does not think my poor body can cope with much more chemo. So fingers crossed for tomorrow. 

It's late at night now and need to get my beauty sleep for tomorrow which is also Maggie's Centre support group summer lunch, which I hope to be able to attend, with the co-operation of the nurses on Ward One. 

I will finish tonight with some quotes from Maya Angelou who died a few days ago, sadly. She was a fine writer, poet and performer. She wrote: 

" You may write me down in history

   With your bitter twisted lies,

   You may trod me in the very dirt 

   But still, like dust, I'll rise." 

" You may not control all the events that happen to you , but you can decide not to be reduced by 

   them." 

Which I have adopted as my motto for life. So neutrophils will not be allowed to control my life. 

Where's my dinner said the crow

Our signets getting bigger

Our baby coots

Greylag geese at Blackford Pond

A Little Walk

Today I managed to walk round Blackford Pond again and I have to say after the way I felt over the past few weeks and my stay in hospital, it was a beautiful experience, in fact beyond beautiful. I know some folk may object to my use of the word beyond in this sense, and that it's now the new literally, but I reckon if it's good enough for Bob Geldof to describe himself as beyond grief on the death of his daughter then it's OK for Blackford Pond. Mind you to call it a pond does not do it justice, but it's not a loch or a lake either so don't know what word would better fit our Pond. Any suggestions will be welcome.

The birds all came to welcome me. The swans with their signets, the coots with their babies, some very friendly greylag geese, a few jackdaws, crows, seagulls and the rest. No sign of the heron though.

It's the kind of place where it's good to talk to strangers and today I got chatting to a couple out for their constitutional stroll. It turns out that Mrs Couple has a best friend who comes from Lochs on the Isle of Lewis, a place I know well, and this friend, not sure if it was a man or a woman, but no matter, was a teacher in the Nicolson Institute in Stornoway, also a place I know only too well, having spent six long years in that world famous institution. It's a small world, don't you think.

Earlier in the day my friend Mike came round and he treated me to a light lunch, and promises to treat me to a mystery trip in next few weeks. Also brought me up to date on his trip to Palestine, and gave me a first hand account of the wall and the way the police treat the locals. Badly of course. Mike also put me in the picture re the new party, Podemos, that did so well in the elections in Spain recently.

Am now waiting for my pal to join me so that we can watch the England v Peru game together. No need to guess who I shall be supporting. Vamos Peru.

All for now. Will post some pics later.

Getting There

This week I have mostly been in hospital having been admitted last Sunday with a bad case of dehydration, so bad I thought the end had come. I spent four days on an intravenous drip to build me up again for the fun of more chemotherapy, which caused the problem in the first place. All I can think is that if its doing this to my healthy cells then it must be blasting the cancer cells to kingdom come, or further. Let's hope so anyway.

That was my fifth chemo cycle, which has now been abandoned half way through and the new plan is to commence cycle six on the due date of 2nd June, but without the intravenous infusion of chemo drugs, just two weeks of tablets and that will be me finished with chemotherapy. Let's hope so anyway. Oh the joy. Can you imagine it? No more chemotherapy after the 16th of June. What a feeling of relief that gives me. At last an end date after many delays and extensions, but as they say better late than never.

I'm going to cook today for the first time in about four weeks. Grilled lamb chops, new potatoes and English asparagus, seeing as you asked. Who knows I might even fry an egg, organic naturally.

I'm very much living from day to day as I never know how I'm going to be on any morning. A lot of time has been spent resting and recuperating as the least bit of activity is exhausting and requires an immediate rest period. It can be hard coping but I think I'm through the worst of it now, and the fact I see the end date gives me a huge boost.

Talking about boosts, I was given a magnificent boost on Thursday when Garry and Ben came to visit me in the hospital and spent the last two hours there with me as we waited for Coinneach to drive down from Cupar to pick me up and take me home. Ben is my wee brother's grandson and Garry is his dad and I feel a public thank you to them both is called for. So thank you both very very much. You made a patient very happy indeed. We were able to visit Maggie's Centre and meet my support team there, and show them round the centre, and Ben got to chat to the staff and learn about the work they do.

A couple of weeks ago I received two thank you letters on the same day, thanking me for books I had gifted. One was from my friend Pat to thank me for giving him  the novel Stoner by John Williams, which he had never heard of and of which my recommendation didn't at first impress him. That sentence sounds clumsy but let it stay. On reading the novel however he was hugely impressed- superb story, superbly written, he reports. I'm not surprised as it is a great book, a classic even.

My other thank you came from Ben who was delighted with the comic book version of Treasure Island by RLS I sent him. Produced by the Marvel comic folk. He says in his card that it was his first comic book novel and might not be his last, it was scary, funny and exciting, it was a great read he says and thanks a million. One of the best cards I've had. Not to say that I don't appreciate all the other cards and emails I get. Ben is nine going on ten, I think.

It's not often one gets two such thank you letters and certainly not on the same day. So ta Pat and Ben. And I'm pleased to note that my literary judgements remain sound for young and older.

This is my first posting for a few weeks and I mustn't finish without giving a mention to Stephen Sutton who passed away two weeks ago and who was also a bowel cancer patient, except that he was only 19 years of age when he died. I don't need to repeat his story here as I'm sure you all know how he raised millions for the Teenage Cancer Trust. I feel I'd somehow got to know Stephen and his death had a big effect on me. I cried when I heard the news. I kept hoping that something would turn up for him, but it wasn't to be. His story is on the Teenage Cancer Trust website if anyone wants to know more. Thank you to Stephen for a short life well lived. Your were an inspiration to me and many others too. I have to admit that fleetingly I hoped when you died that you would live on in a special place somewhere and we would meet sometime. I don't believe in heaven  or hell or any such but that was a strange experience. Or maybe I dreamt it.

Let's end this post with a quote from this exceptional young man:

" I don't see the point in measuring  life in terms of time anymore. I'd rather measure life in terms of making a difference."

A nice bottom and coots in their new nest

More swans and family

Blackford Pond signets

Coots and their chicks

Hope you all like the pics from Blackford Pond from a couple weeks ago. The heron is huge and took off just after allowing me to take these photos. I was too slow to catch it fly off but it's very impressive. 

The coot stole this nest of another bird and I'm told has now moved with her brood to occupy another nest not belonging to her. Didn't know they had their very own Occupy Movement. 

I hope to make it this afternoon to photo the swans with their signets. At least I hope I have the strength to make it to the Pond. 

Been in bed mostly since last chemo on Monday but am told that I have to go out every day. So here goes. Bye.

The coot and her chicks

The Blackford Pond Heron

Ward One Again

I'm back in Ward One for my fifth chemo cycle and I've been here for four hours already. As my infusion has just started I expect to be here for another four hours and a bit, big bit probably. So might as well pass the time writing my blog. 

This is the first time that my chemo has started on the due date which was completely unexpected as I've been so ill since my last infusion three weeks ago. Most of my time has been spent resting in bed or later in the day in front of the tele. I've become quite fond of Dickinson and his Real Deal show. In fact I must be an expert now so reckon one of my first stops will be an auction once my treatment is over. I've also become a fan of Masterchef and am looking forward to finals this week. 

I've not been able to write my blog as I've been so tired all the time. There's a mental tiredness as well as the physical one. So concentration goes out the window as well. Sometimes I turn round in the kitchen and by the time I've turned I've forgotten what it was I turned for in the first place.  

So that's why there have been no postings of late. 

I'm no longer able to cook as I can't stand long enough. A shave or a shower is followed by an hours rest. I can only manage about five minutes activity at a

any one time and then a rest. My three flights of stairs are a daily struggle. But I need to go out every day otherwise I will be screaming my little head off. I had to call my doctor out to my flat last week and she advised me to go out every day as it's good for me and the stairs will do me good. Ho ho indeed. 

I hope you all liked my photos from Blackford Pond. The coots have had five little ones and I've got photos of the chicks which I will post tonight. You will be pleased to hear that the swans have produced their little lot too and there are five or six little signets now. My pal John L has been to see them and I hope to manage a visit this week to take some photos and check on their well being. 

 Very sad news about Gabriel García Márquez since my last post. He's easily one of my favourite authors. I reread Love in the Time of Cholera last time I was in Peru and I'm convinced being in South America and knowing so much more about the place made the reading a greater experience for me. Not that the lack of knowing South America at first hand should put you off reading him if you've not already done so. I've started rereading One Hundred Years of Solitude in the hospital today. Always worth a few hours of your time. 

I did make a start on Rembrance of Things Past (or In Search of Lost Times depending on your preference) but Proust does not make things straight forward with his enormous long roving sentences so I've decided to give the good man a rest until my brain is back in order. I've given myself six years to read him which is a volume a year. No point in not being optimistic for the future or what am I putting myself through this torture for if it's not to read Proust and of course go back to Peru and maybe even visit Macondo. 

That's all for now. I can feel the chemo filling up in my arm and getting on with 

It's curing work. I just wish it wasn't so painful. I will post photos tonight. 

Back to Márquez now.   

At Blackford Pond, Edinburgh , Sunday

Ward One

At long last I'm getting my fourth round of chemo after four unsuccessful attempts. I'm in Ward One now and it's 4 o'clock having arrived here at 9 o'clock this morning. I have another three hours to go before I can go home. Needless to say I'm exhausted. The long delay is down to waiting for blood tests and having to consult with Dr McLean, my oncologist, as they've had to reduce my dose because of all the adverse side effects I've been getting. Hopefully the reduction will lead to less bad reactions and no more delays in my treatment. 

I'm now down to 60% of the maximum dose. I'm told this should not reduce the efficiency but I do wonder. My life in their hands. 

There's an old guy with me who is very deaf and shouts instead of speaking. He likes to talk and has given us all a potted life history at full volume. The person he was talking to managed to put a halt to things just as he was about to begin his parents life story. Peace. 

A nice nurse has offered to fetch me a cup of tea and a biscuit. I still have three hours to go. 

Last time I wrote a blog post on my iPhone I was sitting in a cafe in miraflores in Lima. I would give the world to be there right now. I'm determined to get back to that cafe within the next year even If it's the last thing I ever do. 

I've just had a long relaxing foot massage provided by a nice young lady from McMillan Centre. Very wonderful and invigorating. Ward One is full of surprises don't you think? Hands off our NHS, Dave you old bastard. Leave something for Alex to mess up when we get our freedom. 

Yesterday I went for a walk round Blackford Pond for the first time since my cancer arrived and it was the best walk round there I've ever done. Took me one hell of a long time to get round there and I had to rest for two or three hours afterwards. In fact I fell asleep. Totally out of it so to speak. But walk was worth it, all the birds sang for me, a robin sat still while I took his photo, the swans carried on making their nest as I watched and an old guy came to feed the ducks. I've spent hours of my life walking by that pond and took all the boys I worked with to see it. I wonder if any of them will visit and remember as they get older and I'm long gone? One can but hope. 

Neutropenia

Well here I am a week later and no further forward. After three unsuccessful attempts I'm now waiting to hear from Ward One for a new date to begin the fourth cycle of my chemo treatment which should have started two weeks ago. The problem continues to be my low white blood cell count and especially my neutrophils which need to be above 1.5 before they will treat me. They've been as high as 1.49 but I still couldn't be treated. The next test, at the hospital, went down to 1.44, so treatment was out of the question.

That was on Friday and even had my count been above 1.5 they probably would not have treated me as I've had other complications which put them off going ahead with the chemo. I won't bore you with the details. Apparently I'm at risk of developing neutropenia, which according to Wikipedia could become life-threatening and deadly. Which is definitely not nice but explains why they have to be so careful about giving me more chemo.

The nurse took my temperature in one ear and said that's a bit low, lets try the other ear. Which turned out to be normal. So my head has two different temperatures, the right side is low and the left side is normal. No wonder I'm so unbalanced.

It's a beautiful sunny day here in Edinburgh. I think I shall venture out, not having been able to go very far in the past few days, maybe a bash at a Princes Street is called for, see how long I can last and who knows might even catch sight of a tram or something even more exciting.

They told me the chemo might cause mood swings and loss of concentration and even memory loss. I think I'm now experiencing all of these symptoms, especially mood swings. I never know what my mood is going to be from one hour to the next which makes writing my blog difficult as I don't like to write when my mood is down. In any case if I lose concentration it becomes almost impossible to write at all. Must try to do better. My reading is all over the place. I think I'm working on about ten books right now. And that's just one too many.

If you've emailed or texted me in the past week and I've not replied its nothing personal. Please accept my apologies and will try to do better this week. All for now.

Chemo Cancellation

Those neutrophils let me down again last Wednesday. They were just under the safe level for me to have my chemotherapy so here I am on Monday morning waiting for John to come round and take me back to Ward One for another attempt. Let's hope the little buggers are not misbehaving today.

The past few days have been very difficult as I've been so incredibly tired and exhausted, hardly able to move at times, so been staying local most of the time. I get so tired sometimes I find conversation difficult as the act of speaking tires me out. I feel stronger this morning which is just as well if I'm going to survive four hours of chemo and all the rest of the stuff that gets pumped into my poor body.

I just wanted to update my blog to keep you all in the picture as it were. I hope to able to post a bit more this week. Meantime I must be off as John has just called to say he is on the way.