Post DXT

Diarrhoea bad

It was cold after walking the dogs through the field, with an air temperature that didn't pass 2͒ C all day. Waiting for Ann in The Swan, I succumbed and ordered a double brandy, to keep the cold at bay. Only later did Ann tell me that alcohol, along with spicy food, was verboten for the next couple of weeks. It certainly can inflame the bladder/colon. I deteriorated again after my lapse, with pain from both exits. At least Ann keeps us well provisioned against need.

Listening to another episode of Billy Connolly, I was moved in a different way when a reporter asked him, "What does it feel like to get a knighthood when you've come from nothing?"

Sir Billy bridled at this. "I did not come from nothing! I came from something - something special!" It set me thinking of my own roots, not a Glasgow tenement, but a tiny upstairs flat above a bakery in Leicester, during the bombing and the blackouts. Unlike Connolly, I have no affection for the city of Leicester, nor for Coventry. I could not wait to leave, and have no desire to go back to either place. But it did remind me that my parents too were not "nothing", but were equally special. Too easily have I thought of what they could have done or should not have done; but they gave me freedom to choose, and that is of huge value. I may have made some bad choices, but they were my choices: no one forced me down a road I did not want to travel. My lessons have been learnt the hard way, but they were my lessons, and forged the man I am become.

I do not know the cause of my bladder cancer; probably it will never be known. But I did know, as we all do deep down, that certain food stuffs, or excess alcohol cause harm. No one made me eat unhealthily, nor booze until the cells suffer. My life is my own.

A history lesson at the carwash

Taking the car to be cleaned this morning ready for the New Year, and mine being the only car there, I was talking at length to the owner. He came from Macedonia 19 years ago, and has done well by the business. Unusually, he commutes from Cambridge where he owns a house, for prices were low 19 years ago. He employs several people, who pay £400 per month for a single room in Haverhill, but prices have risen so much even in Haverhill that he couldn't afford a house here.

He told me a little of the history of his region, and how the country had been stable under Tito when united with Yugoslavia, before the great Yugoslavian wars of disruption that ended with the country fragmenting along religious lines. He was one of five boys, but his father had earned enough to keep the whole family comfortable. Now, wages are so low each family member has to work. But he loves England, the land of opportunity, and is so well settled in Cambridge he has no desire to leave. In some way I didn't fully follow, Macedonia is not allowed to join the EU (something to do with Greece claiming it, I think).

Serbia/Croatia/Montenegro/Macedonia? The history is impossibly complicated for an outsider to comprehend, but I know from my history of Tesla (a Serb) that the Turks caused their usual mayhem, obliterating the original Serbian peoples and instilling Muslim theology into the region in the battle of Kosovo of 1389, which is still remembered. I remember an Armenian girl who told me a similar tale, of how the Turks had destroyed her people. Now, they are intent on destroying the Kurds also. How hatred perpetuates itself through the world, usually through the instigation of one wild man, unrestrained by his people.

On the domestic front, the cancer continues to make its presence known. The bladder is sore, PU'ing is difficult and painful, and dipstick testing confirms the presence of blood, protein and leucocytes, probably all a result of the vicious inflammation induced by the DXT. I continue to feel nausea, with reduced appetite, and have lost weight. Only three more treatment days, thankfully!

Trinken den Wein

Although it sounds a contradiction, Edwin visited a German market in Cambridge last night. He said he intended to "trinken den Wein", so I told him not to "trinken too muchen den Wein!" but he's never paid much attention to advice.

For myself, I haven't "den Wein getrunken"since I started this treatment last week. Not from any reason of virtue, but in case booze of any sort clashes with my stomach and makes me feel even worse than I already do. Matthew and Rosie came over today to take me in, and I carried a towel and sick bowl in case I vomited again. I spread the tablets out over a longer period today, and that seemed to help a bit. Though still nauseous, I avoided embarrassing myself or messing their car.

Radiographers wanted

There were delays for us all on treatments this morning, and the waiting area was full. One small child with no hair was wheeled in by her parents. Several women had scarves to cover their hair loss, and one woman had a large bald area over a depression over her skull, where probably she was being treated for a skin cancer. A man next to me, also with a cap on, told me he had surgery for a brain tumour followed by chemo and now radiotherapy. He was still in his 50's, and said he'd expected to have much longer to live. Now he was going to work through his money and get things he really wanted, starting with a set of Beat headphones, then taking his family on holiday early next year for which he'd rented a holiday home in Norfolk.

We are all at the point in our lives where cancer is the signpost to change, usually degenerate change. It served to point to the variety of people getting radiotherapy treatments, although a poster in the waiting area pointed to another reason for the delays: a shortage of radiographers. My radiographer explained that most people have never heard of therapeutic radiography as a career option, though it is so rewarding a career and full training offered. Anyone interested can contact their nearest hospital training group.

The ending of a bad year.

The year looks like ending as it's been all through. The company I work for is transferring my project for development in Japan, so I may be redundant before the year's end. And now the main sewerage drain is blocked with a tail back of filthy sludge, so we'll have to call the drain men out.

On only the third day of my radiotherapy treatment, scheduled for 6:30 last night, I was already dreading taking the huge doses of Vitamin B3. Edwin took me to Addenbrooke's, but I was right about the tablets, He had to stop on the way home to let me out, when I was repeatedly sick, and I have spent most of today in bed or shivering in a blanket.

One bright spot was a letter from my grandson, Luke. It is two full pages of beautifully written and interesting items, spelling out his hopes for A-levels and university, and quite unlike what one reads about messaging by today's youth, with their texted emphasis on Emojis and weird abbreviations. The art of letter writing is clearly not dead, and I was hugely moved to get the letter. Now I shall lie back and have another sleep, to gather strength of my next treatment on Monday. Only 17 more to go.

Letter from Colorado

Ann is doing her Christmas cards, and commented how many widows we now have on the list, no doubt hoping she isn't going to join them any too soon.I had an email from Betsy, my cousin-in-law in Colorado, who was thinking of me ahead of the looming radiotherapy. Her husband, Ed, died quite suddenly this year, placing her as the most recent.  There is not yet a single widower.

On the Zephyr to Colorado

The days we spent in Colorado were particularly happy, especially for Ann who had heat stroke from the Utah sun, staying in a house without air conditioning when it was 44+ deg. We went from Chicago through Colorado on the California Zephyr, an amazing journey through the Colorado River Gorge. We often think of Betsy and Ed and the wonderful day we got in contact with them after my father lost touch with his brother in the 1930's. He came straight over with his sister, and we met up for the first time at Heathrow.

Having read the experiences of an American in Texas ("The Funny Thing About Bladder Cancer"), I am so grateful for our health service. It may be a little slower and less up-to-date than the US health service, but it is so comforting to know that the treatments are all available, without having to prove one can pay for them, or being left untreated if one can't.

Ann keeping me in order

Betsy has been catching up via my blog. The readership is growing in the UK, but it would be nice to see a US audience. I find it very cathartic. My only problem is, I'm often too honest about what I think of people, so Ann censors it if she thinks it will offend the people we don't want to fall out with. Ann is tops at keeping me in order, and never afraid to offend me, or tip cold water over me if I upset her. Dear reader, you must understand the torments I face at her hand. But she's worth it!

Countdown to Blasting

The letter with my timetable for radiotherapy arrived this morning. It doesn't carry a radiation warning symbol, or glow green with smoke seeping out, but looks quite plain for the message it conveys. The X-rays are produced by linear accelerators working at voltages of up to 25 million volts, enough to blast deep into the bladder. The intention is to destroy the tumour cells without destoying me. The therapy will start early December and run through into January, at times that vary each day up to early evening. But they respected my request to start after 10 a.m. to miss the worst of the Cambridge rush hour.

I was right to cancel our holiday to the Holy Land – the treatments run right across what would have been the start date. I asked my GP to complete the insurance claim form, which was £32. It used to be free for colleagues, but those days are well gone;. I remain tired, and no doubt it will get worse yet, but hopefully there will be improvement again once the treatment is finished.

I will need to wear a mask during the therapy, so the team at Addenbrookes gave me a practice run. I will have my own mask throughout, with my name on it, and breathe almost pure oxygen. This makes cancer cells more vulnerable to radiation. They have warned me not to use any petroleum-based creams on the face, as they might spontaneously explode. Also, the oxygen is absorbed into the skin and clothing, so I mustn't go near a naked light for half an hour afterwards, or I could ignite. They reassured me they hadn't lost anyone yet, and don't want me to be the first. I also have to take ten large niacinamide tablets exactly one hour before treatment, to maximise blood flow to the tumour cells prior to blasting them.

This adjunct treatment augments the outcome of radiotherapy. It was developed in Mount Vernon Hospital, and brought to the UK by the treatment specialist at Addenbrookes who is now the national authority, and trying to get it adopted by other hospitals. He told me of a former patient who'd been an RAF pilot; he said the mask reminded him of flying at 50,000 feet!