Miles to go

Today was another difficult day with Dr McLean. She does not have the easiest of jobs, that's for sure.  She tells me that all the tumours on my lungs have grown since the last scan. The largest now being 14 mm, grown from about 9 mm. The rest have grown proportionately, the next biggest being about 9 mm and on down to about 6 mm. There are no new ones one my lungs and the cancer has not spread to any other organs. Which I suppose is good news of sorts.

She showed me the scans on her computer screen, this being third time I've seen them, and they definitely look bigger. I can see a clear difference from my last scan, they look more threatening some how. It doesn't make for easy viewing. I am very disappointed as I'd been hoping for a no change result, or at least minor insignificant change. No such luck. 

She would now like to start me on chemotherapy with a view to slowing down the growth or maybe even reduce the size. But there is no guarantee that the chemo would have any effect. It's a case of suck it and see, so to speak. Cancer treatment offers nothing but uncertainties as far as I can make out. It seems to be a question of lets try this or that and see where it takes us. But I have to be upbeat and put my faith in the good doctor. 

I had thought about this possibility before I went to see her, so was prepared and in control of things. Better that I decide on these things than to lose all control of my life.  I asked her if we could delay treatment for a couple of months or three, if this wouldn't make too much difference to my treatment. She agreed to my suggestion and I will go back to see her on 17 September. In meantime I can phone her anytime to begin the treatment should I feel it necessary or should I begin to develop symptoms, or more than I already experience. 

So that's where we are now. I need to make some decisions as to how to spend the next couple of months. The first thing I'm planning is a trip up to the lovely Isle of Lewis, to visit my home land for one last time. I'm planning to go week commencing 2 August. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

Dreams

Tomorrow I will see Dr McLean to hear the results of my latest scan. It's four months since last scan when I was told tumours were slowly growing. Let's not worry about infinitives at this time. So let's hope they've not quickened since then. It would be so good to be told that they remain at same size as in March, but I guess that's too much to hope for. But one never knows.

I remain quietly confident but realistic and prepared for whatever she might tell me. Well I think I'm prepared for it. The mind plays tricks on me. I dream every night now, or should I say I am aware of my dreams, sometimes scary dreams, though not nightmares. They frequently take me back to my childhood and youth, and all the places I've lived in over the years, and people I've known. Probably including you.

Sometimes my dreams and real life become entwined when I wake up and I struggle to sort out what's going on. My iPhone alarm goes off on the pillow beside me every day. Today it became part of my dream and it took me ages to work out to turn it off. Quite scary really. I think all the drugs I've been on have upset my psyche and my brain struggles to sort it all out. Maybe I'm dreaming writing this.

I had to spend half a day at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary on Monday to get my diabetes sorted after the steroid effects knocked it out of kilter. I had to start taking insulin, though I've now come off it, I hope for good. As the nurse was showing me how to use the penject I was taken back to days of yore and watching my mother injecting herself with insulin and thinking how I could never manage that.

The doctor I saw was a nice young chap. They're all so young these days, don't you find? It turns out that his father also comes from Isle of Lewis,  from same village as my father. He's going to ask him if he knows my father's family. His father is 62. So you see what I mean about his youth?

I'm now getting calls from Royal Infirmary and Western General hospitals on a daily basis. Can't believe how well looked after I am by health service.

All for now. Celtic have just lost a goal to some Icelandic team, the silly sods.

I will write a post tomorrow to let you all know my scan results.

A Little Wager

For a while back I didn't think I would live long enough see another footie season commence. So I'm delighted to see that I'm still here as another season heaves into view. Incidentally the Guardian was recently taken to task for incorrect use of hoves instead of heaves, so I was particularly keen to impress with my correct usage there.

Yesterday I was feeling more confident about future possibilities than I have for a long time, so thinking about prospects for the new season I popped in to chat with my local bookie and see what he thought the odds were for Man United to win the league. He reckons the odds are 11/2, which seems quite generous, given all the new signings recently. What with Schweinsteiger, Schneiderlin, Depay and Darmian joining us, things are looking very exciting indeed. I will have to teach my Mac Book Pro how to spell all these names for future reference.

I decided that these odds were far too good to miss so I put a small wager on my team to win the league and hope to live to collect my winnings next May 2016. There's confidence for you. Let's hope Dr McLean has good news for me when I see her on Thursday for my scan results. If I win the bet I think I might donate my winnings to young Ben, as he will be getting ready to start secondary school about that time. If I'm not around someone will know what to do with the dosh I'm sure.

Stoke City are 3000/1 to win the league. Seems about right so worth a pound of my hard earned pension. I aim to see both teams in the new season. I feel I'm as well to make plans just like all the rest of you and live as if  I have a long life ahead of me. Though having said that nothing really allows me to forget my cancer.

I was hoping to go to see Amy at the cinema this afternoon, but unfortunately I was not well enough to go out this morning so had to cancel my trip. I hope to go later this week. Will let you know how it goes. I'm off out now and will come home to watch the end of the Open on tele later, and hoping for a Scottish win, so come on Paul Lawrie.

Candy and Ken

Today was my last day in London for now. I'm hoping to come back sometime soon, which is not something I would have said a week ago. Last weekend were the best three days I've had since my first operation and various treatments began in July 2013. I really didn't expect before I left Edinburgh that I would cope so well, in fact I was quite worried about surviving even a couple of days. Seems that my old body has a bit more left to give me. Not a lot, but enough to keep me happy.

The steroids helped for the first four or five days, but they also succeeded in knocking my diabetes out of control, so that the gains from steroids were reversed by my high blood sugar level. I then had to phone Royal Infirmary in Edinburgh for advice from my doctor there. I had to quadruple my intake of diabetes drugs. It's still not back at a good level, so I've been knackered today and yesterday.

I had a quiet day spent partly with the strikers at the National Gallery, who are members of my old Union. I went down to join them on their picket line and to offer some solidarity from Edinburgh. They are on strike against privatisation of their services and also in support of Candy Unwin, one of the shop stewards, who has been victimised and now is fighting to get her job back.

I was very pleased to see that Ken Loach had also turned up today to offer his support. He's obviously a good man, and knows the importance of solidarity. Not wishing to steal his thunder I left my speech in my pocket and let him get on with it. I took his photo instead. He's a short wee fellow. I didn't think the occasion was suitable for an autograph, so I spoke to Candy and wished them success.

I then went for lunch to the Crypt Cafe in St Martin-in-the -Fields church in Trafalgar Square. It was nice and cool, which was just what was required as it was quite humid outside. It was strange having lunch sitting on top of all these tombs. I assume there are bodies still down there, the church having been there since 1726. Quite a wee while. It's a good place for lunch if you're ever passing by and National Gallery is out of bounds through strike action or even if it's not.

Better go to bed now. I wrote this sitting in the Hotel bar, having an orange juice at midnight. Definitely the first time I've been in a bar this late since before my cancer adventure began. So there. That's progress of sorts. Don't you think?

Dusty

I went with John and Lyn to a talk by Allan Gibbons on Dusty Springfield at the Marxism Festival on Sunday night. I'd heard him speak in the past but not for some time so it was good to hear him again. He was very entertaining, informative and hugely funny. A natural performer, who burst into song as the mood took him and as seemed appropriate.

There is a new biography of Dusty just published which inspired him to do the talk. Dusty was one of my favourite singers when I was young. I still remember listening to her in The Springfields when I was but a boy, and then of course she branched out on her own to become one of the greats of her time and since. 

She was a bit of a rebel, a socialist even, who refused to play to segregated audiences when she was sent to South Africa to play, long before anti apartheid movement got under way. When she refused to play she was  deported, but her black South African fans came to the airport and gave her a guard of honour and cheered her to her plane. Cliff Richard, so called christian, had no problems playing out there of course along with many others. Apparently Queen apologised for playing there and were forgiven by Mandela. 

She once knocked Buddy Rich's wig off his head when she slapped him after he punched her. The band awarded her a pair of boxing gloves.

She was once in Post Office Tower restaurant when she saw the manager abuse one of his staff, so she took a jam tart and crushed it into his hand when he came to shake her hand as she was leaving and told him never to treat his staff like that again. Let's hope the waiter didn't get the sack later.

At the end we all sang along with Dusty as she sang "Going Back" by Goffin and King. You can find it on the YouTube thingee. I thought John and Lyn sang mighty lustily. For those of you who are interested there's a BBC4 programme called Definitely Dusty, worth a look.

I'm dedicating this blog posting to my good friend Mo over there in Snohomish. Mo has been a Dusty fan since I've known her. How long now Mo? Any way this ones for you and there's a wee pressie in the post to you from Marxism 2015. Festival. 

London July 2015

This is first time I've updated my blog in London whilst sitting outside in the sunshine. I'm  waiting for JB to finish his breakfast and join me. I'm sitting in Bloomsbury or very close to it and opposite Elizbeth Garrett Anderson Hospital and across from Saint Pancras Parish Church which now seems to have converted into something called The Crypt Gallery. Very spooky. Along the road there's a Sex mAcademy. Wonder what goes on there. No time to find out.

I'm having a very busy time at our Marxism Festival. Some excellent meetings yesterday with great speakers. We had John Rose speaking on Palestine, Richard Bradbury on the Levellers, Diggers and Ranters, our revolutionary history, never taught in schools of course, Alex Callinicos on the Revolutionary Ideas of Karl Marx, an update of book he wrote twenty years go. And in the evening we went to listen to John Molyneux on Rubens & Rembrandt: Art & Revolution, which was a brilliant illustrated talk.

I probably did too much yesterday and was a bit exhausted by time I got to bed, not too late I hasten to add. So will take it easy today, maybe cut back to four talks. We have a big debate at 2 pm between  Stathis Kouvelakis (Syriza Central Committee) and Alex Callinicos, which should be lively after yesterday Greek government decision.

I was in a shop yesterday with John, when one of their staff spoke to me in Spanish so I answered back in Spanish. He was somewhat taken aback as he didn't speak much himself other than Hola amigo qué pasa and obviously didn't expect me to speak any. So he asked me where in South America I was from, was I Argentinian? It's good to know I speak like a South American seeing as I learnt all my Spanish there, or most of it, other than the bits Marian taught me in Edinburgh night classes.  The guy was from Nigeria and a supporter of Scottish independence who wanted to know about the referendum so I left John to explain to him what went wrong.

As I'm writing this outside it's difficult for to see the screen in the sunshine. So no spell check etc. John has just joined me so that's it for now? Shame about our Andy yesterday but the man is just too good for him.
 

Preparing to go to another capital city

Very happy and excited to be getting ready for my London trip tomorrow. Preparations going well so far. My first trip for two years and eight months so much cause for celebrations, especially as doctor at hospital gave me some steroids to take yesterday and I can already feel the benefit, more energy and strength. Keep this up and I might manage another Munro to add to my measly fifteen and brings Peru a bit more into the picture, if Dr McLean brings good news on 23 July. Can you believe we're now deep into July and festival will be almost upon us by time I get back to civilisation. And as my mother used to say not a stroke done yet.

I trust you're all enjoying your summer wherever in the world you happen to be. I think the Edinburgh summer came and went last Wednesday.

I went to the summer exhibition at City Art Centre yesterday, just called Scottish Art, as far as I can remember. It's on all four floors and covers landscape, people, still life and abstraction, with a selection of visitors favourite works in the basement/lower ground floor. It's worth a visit if only to amaze at all the wonderful art produced by Scottish artists over the past hundred or two years. Some very well known paintings , many I've seen before, maybe in other exhibitions or galleries but the kind you can never get tired of seeing. It was very quiet when I went on Tuesday, just a few stragglers  with their weans in tow. I'm sure it will be busy as festival approaches. Give the cafe a miss. It's quite awful, so go across the road to Fruitmarket Gallery instead, which is much cleaner and friendly.

I also went to the Lee Miller and Picasso exhibition at the Portrait Gallery in Queen Street. Some great photos of the man and his entourage caught in very relaxed mode. She seems to have been very close to him and was one of his best friends, enough to photograph him over a thousand times, and he painted her six times, one of which is in the exhibition along with a drawing and many many of her photos. It's wonderful to be able to see so much of their lives so intimately. I will probably have to go back. I'm a member so costs me nothing but is £9.00 if you're not a member so make most of your visit if you decide to go.

I don't get to the cinema as much as in previous lives, but I managed to see Mr Holmes starring the magnificent  Ian McKellen and a young star of the future called Milo Parker, whom I hope to live long enough to see a few more times. Excellent movie, as much about ageing process, friendship and approaching death with dignity as it is about detective story, but that is there to if such is your thing. Go see it for yourselves. I went with my pal Gordon, who told me he was taking me to a 1960 Mexican movie at the Film Festival, but he got his venues mixed up, so we saw Mr Holmes instead and quite frankly between you and me I think it turned out rather well, probably better in fact. But don't mention to Gordon.... I think he's getting older poor thing.

That's all I have time for and I see I've not told you about my art purchase, but remind me and I will do so next time.

The Sudden Wren

Here is a little poem I rather like.

to be a sudden wren

to be the tiny and the fast

to see the endless bounty

within the limitless

and

large

and 

be everything

Billy Childish

Going on

I had my latest scan on Tuesday. Hard to believe that it's four months since my last one. I'm hoping the tumours are still slowly growing. Maybe I shouldn't have split that infinitive, but I'm told people are not so fussy about these things nowadays, and who knows my tumours may take a hint.

I won't know the results until 23rd July as Dr McLean is on holiday part of the time and I myself am going to London on 9th July for eight nights. She offered to see me this week but I decided to stick to original date as don't particularly want to be given a negative result and then travel to London, with it on my mind, bothering me.

This will be my first time away from home since my return from Peru in November 2012. Apart from a couple of nights in Cupar. Which hardly counts as away from home. I'm excitedly looking forward to my trip and hoping my old body doesn't let me down. The signs are currently positive.

It was incredibly difficult coping with my cancer when I thought I was going to be cured. Now that I'm told that a cure is no longer possible I have no idea how I'm able to cope. Some days are hard beyond belief, especially if things are going wrong physically. I tell myself to get on with it and not give up, even when giving up seems the easiest thing to do.

If I have the strength I go for a walk round Morningside or to Blackford Pond, but often I'm only able to cross the road for a coffee in Caffe Nero, or tea and toast in Blackwoods Cafe. I've not been able to visit the swans so often this year, so they've had to look after themselves without my support, though John L keeps me posted on progress. I aim to visit them before I go to London all being well.

I'm lucky to have so many good friends to keep me company and join me for coffee and a natter. There are very few days when I'm not meeting someone or other of my friends. Occasionally I avoid meeting anyone as I need time to myself to reflect quietly and cope with whatever my body is  testing me with at the time.

Thank goodness for Caffe Nero. I do most of my reading there and often chat with my friend John L about various philosophical matters. The staff in the cafe are superb and constantly supportive. Polish, Scottish, Spanish, Italian, Irish, Russian and English. A complete picture as it were.

Speaking of books I'm currently reading Ali Smith's prize winning novel How to be both. Really enjoying it and especially so as she is a Scottish writer, coming from Inverness as she does. Somehow makes the novel even more enjoyable, which is quite silly of course but nevertheless gives me a frisson of extra pleasure, and I need all the frissons I can find. I will try to go to her event at the Book Festival.

I finished reading Colm Tóibín's novel Nora Webster. Also an excellent piece of work, exquisitely heartbreaking. Very moving and typical for those who've read his previous.

All for now. More to follow. I bought an art work the other day.