Having set myself a pattern with the titles of postings so far, I can see that tomorrow and thereafter may get a bit difficult, if not simply predictable and somewhat long winded.
Slept my last birthday-suited sleep for a few weeks, and what a sound sleep it was. The 100% proof Arran whisky I treated myself to last night possibly helped. All packed are ready. Another gorgeous morning here. The sun is out, the sky is blue, there's not a single cloud spoiling the.....oh wait! That's been done already. Copyright issues: one needs to be careful.
Bag is now fully packed and I'm wrestling with the ever thorny issue of book choice. Do I take in a selection of quality literature and thereby, finally, get to legitimately claim I've done War & Peace, simultaneously impressing doctors (one naively imagines they'll recognise a good book, being clever and all) plus any good looking nurses. This carries the risk that I leave myself with nothing to read, as in reality, hospitalisation probably won't make me any more inclined to persevere with the whole "classic, must reads" thing. I'll probably develop the concentration span of a goldfish. Best stick with Russell Brand's 'My Booky Wook', or acquire a celebrity biography, I think.
Went a very enjoyable run yesterday through some woodland, the plan having been to run with Corri and her friend, Liz. Corri 'accidentally' forgot to bring her running shoes, leaving me with Liz, who was, frankly, quite slow. Sorry Liz, but you held me back. They'd all said you were good. I had high hopes. My last run for a few weeks and you almost ruined it, thoughtless cow. If it hadn't been so beautiful, I'd probably be quite upset about it. (she was good on the downhills, I'll give her that).
Still no detectable anxiety about the next few days and still, bizarrely, looking forward to it. Perhaps I'm in denial, but I don't think so. Throughout my treatment to date, things have progressed well in terms of response and results at each stage. I guess it's made me increasingly competitive about it all - me, Corri and the medics versus myeloma. In turn, that makes you eager to get on with the next bit, like a boxer sensing victory, rushing from the corner at the start of the next round.
Time to head in now.
Later.
fff
ReplyDeleteJoe,
ReplyDeleteI never thought I would know anyone with a blogg let alone be writing on one. This is my second attempt though!
Good luck with your stay in hospital. Are you allowed visitors? When? Are you allowed madicinal real ale?
Have just got back from the 125 mile Devizes to Westminster canoe race. Feeling chuffed Finshed 52nd out of 180 registared starters in 23 hrs and 31 mins, and it brought me up short to recieve your e-mail and made me relise how lucky I am to still be "charin on" with no more than a little wear and tear. I was glad to hear that you had been able to get back to some running after you last chemo, must have been a real maral booter.
Anyway I have no doubt that you will be the model patient and a bonus to the medical staff.
Greg
fff-interesting choice of comment you might say. Actually it's short for something. You see I just spent 30 minutes typing in some of the most devastingly funny prose in the English language since the screenwriters for Allo Allo put pen to paper and then went to send it and lost the whole fff lot!!!
ReplyDeleteThe whole creative effort has left me drained and Catriona will unlikely be able to get anything meaningful from me for weeks to come.
I'll summarise what I wrote. Basically I think you're mean and horrid for forcing Corri to run a marathon. That Liz, who suffers from a severly underactive hypothyroid, can not help running slowly and does not deserve your cruel and acerbic comments and that this whole web site blog myeloma thing is all about you. I went on to decribe how I bravely conquered a particularly bad itchy rash on my left 4th toe requiring repeated admissions to hospital for the afflicted organ to be scratched. Yet no self indulgent website nonsense from me. No siree. I just got on with it. Put my head down, smiled bravely with that far away look in my eye, and kept my private life private. However I confess that a tell all illustrated coffee table book will be published in the new year detailing picture by picture my heroic fight against athletes foot.
That's what I wrote and now I reflect, I'm glad that it's lost somewhere in cyberspace, never to be recovered.
Anyway got to go-better things to do than support you through your cancer treatment.
LOL Kenny, Catriona and Isla. Caitlin is writing her own blog so I'll not include her.
Joe, my wee brother, Kenneth alerted me to your blog. I suppose that is a few less wind turbines going up, then? That's a pity because we need all we can get. I was going to ask your advice about a turbine at the bothy we look after in the Borders, to which we have just been on this shiny Easter weekend. It's all gas cylinders, wheelbarrowed up a track and paraffin lamps - still trapped in the carbon age. But no matter.
ReplyDeleteCould have done with some gas cylinders today-had major rains and power cut today-spent the last 2 hours consulting patients in the dark. Went to syringe out Mr Tickletwat's ear and ended up giving him a colonic irrigation. Still, money in the bank.
ReplyDeleteDon't let ma big brother get free information from you Joe. Just cos you're in hospital doesn't mean that you can't charge the usual consultancy fee.
Got to go-mum's just shouted and tea's oot.
Kenny
Hi Joe, so that's you in then? What room have you got - one of the transplant rooms or one in the corridor? Have you had your central line fitted? Melphalan tomorrow? Sooo many questions LOL. Have fun and here's hoping you get an easy ride.
ReplyDeleteRory
Joe's just a wee bit tied up having his line fitted this morning. He's just texted to say it is done and was really rather dull.
ReplyDeleteI have his dongle(? not sure if that is legal or appropriate at work) but from this afternoon he should be connected to broadband and merrily updating.
Corri
Bloody Corbets. Ye set-up a blog to generate a wee audience for youself. Pour thought, emotion, creativity all over the place, and those buggers muscle in, turning the whole endeavour into a soundingboard for their own quick wit and repartee. It's always all about you, Kenny, aint it? Always about Kenny. I've cancer here pal. I'm getting something with "Transplant" in the name and it's not my sense of humour.
ReplyDeleteGavin, ah'll dae ye a wee Proven 2.5kW on 11 mtr mast with batteries for £14 grand cash and nae questions.
Rory - I'm in room 9 in the corridor - just across from the room you were in, I think.
Oh, and Greg - WELL DONE ON THE CANOE RACE, MATE. I do think it's amazing someone as old looking as yourself can find the cardiac output to put on the wetsuit, never mind get artificial hips into a canoe. Just inspiring, really.
ReplyDeletewhats the situation regarding visitors. I am at ARI some days next week and unless i can find a better offer I will come and visit you.
ReplyDeleteLet me know if you can accomodate me in your busy social diary
We are both thinking of you.
Mark - I think Joe has missed this post - he is grand for visits at the moment. Visiting is from 2.30 to 5 and 6.30 to 8pm. I'm still waiting for my lunch date.
ReplyDeleteFirst day of "lock down" is Friday - but if you are well - then still welcome.