Reducing the clutter

 

Typical Cambridge News Headline

We are in the process of trying to reduce our household clutter, not an easy task after 22 years in one place. We are having trips to Charity shops and the tip, filling the paper bin, advertising on GumTree or our local FaceBook page, or simply putting stuff on the verge outside the house with a large sign saying "FREE". We have pulled out a huge number of books filling boxes all down the hall, but even charity shops are reluctant to take them these days for so much is online. Fortunately the local church has said they want them to sell towards the organ fund, so we are taking them there in appreciation of fine music.

One item we unearthed was an old copy of the Cambridge News. This noble journal is famous its missing headlines, and I think we kept this issue as a prime example. Even the strapline to the splash heading reads: "This is a strap over two decks to page here". This paper has another claim to fame: a senior reporter got an anonymous phone call to "to call the American Embassy in London for some big news before the line went dead - just 25 minutes before President John F Kennedy was killed. This was reported to the CIA and MI5, but these organisations couldn't trace the call.

Some time ago, to cope with the Covid crisis, the General Medical Council reinstated all retired doctors to the medical register, including me. Trying to do my bit, I did send two letters to our local GP practice and filled in a form with the Suffolk health council, but was ignored. Yesterday I had a mild fever and productive cough. My Covid test was negative so it is probably a mild case of bronchitis. GPs being a vanishing species these days, I finally used my new registration to issue a private antibiotic prescription - for myself. 

Having a PET scan leaves me aglow

The PET scanner awaits

 I have had my PET scan, in interesting exercise involving the injection of a large volume of a radio-active sugar and total starvation since the previous evening, even though the appointment was for 2pm. Ann dropped me at the door of Addenbrookes, for she is still forbidden entry. I was welcomed in and asked a long list of questions including "Are you pregnant?" When the two young ladies conducting the interview later explained I would be highly radioactive for 8 hours and mustn't go near any children or pregnant women, I said I should have asked them if they were pregnant. They took me seriously and said they aren't allowed to work on the PET unit if they are pregnant.

I was then taken into a side room and a cannular inserted. One of the nurses then disappeared and came back with a trolley bearing a heavy metal box from which she withdrew the injection: a huge syringe encased in metal to protect her from the radiation. They injected the stuff rapidly, then ran from the room leaving me alone for an hour while it distributed itself round the body to be taken up by any stray cancer cells that use extra sugar.

I was then told to empty my bladder, and they pointed to a toilet while keeping their distance. A prominant notice above the toilet requested men who had received their injection to urinate sitting down, as they do not want radioactive sprinkles for some poor soul to have to mop up. They then led me into the PET room and bade me lie on the couch, drop my trousers below my knees to keep metal clear, then put my arms above my head and keep still. It is a vast cavern of a room with the PET scanner like a huge tunnel in the centre. The room was very cold despite the 28deg C. temperature outside, so they threw blankets over my legs to cover my modesty and arms to prevent me shivering and left me alone. The whole procedure took about 40 minutes. I managed to keep my arms raised, though it would have been difficult to bring them down again because the tunnel was quite tight. I also kept still, manfully ignoring the many itches that demand scratching when you know you mustn't move. Finally it was done and they said I could go, still keeping a good distance between us. 

I would have been advised not to wait in the cafe because of my dangerous radiation, but the cafe is still shut because of Covid so I waited outside for Edwin to pick me up and take me home. I had a mild headache and nausea with indigestion, probably from hunger, and had forgotten to take even a biscuit to eat. A glass of milk and a couple of chocolate biscuits soon eased it, but was still very tired so excused myself for an early night after a light meal. 

Broken relationships and healing whisky

Vendetta

He makes a relationship 

out of stinging nettles, 

She breaks relationships 

which are set in stone, 

He acts as a defender 

to precious hearth and home 

She plays the vicious aggressor 

tearing flesh from innocent bone 

finally nothing is left but animosity 

and ice-cold anger 

everything is turned to blood 

dripping red onto innocent feet 

until nothing is left beneath scarlet sheets. 

Annie Elliott

Ann has been reflecting on broken relationships. There are several within our family at various levels, but the more we meet other people, the more often we seem to discover that somewhere is some relative who isn't speaking to another in the family. Yesterday we had a reunion lunch with our friends, Rae Malcolm, Robin and Yvonne. We met at the Half Moon Inn in Belchamp St Paul, a fine traditional thatched pub that's been serving the local squires and farm workers for nigh on 500 years. Afterwards, while having tea with Robin and Yvonne, we walked the dogs across the footpath in the field behind their house. Robin declared the farmer "a right old sod. He once squirted me with his sprayer rather than wait till I passed." Even this grumpy farmer has fallen out with his sister, who lives in a cottage on the farm.

Some years ago, we visited The Museum of Broken Relationships in Zagreb. This was one truly moving experience, both humorous and tragic in the items it displayed. Some reflected merely lovers' tiffs; others death, betrayal, murder, or the tragedy of the holocaust. I still have a souvenir pencil saying "break here in case of anger", and a huge rubber to erase out bad memories. 

 

Enjoying a new whisky

Further to my earlier blog (Items for Sale), we took two lovely mattresses to the charity shop in Haverhill, who'd promised they would take them. They didn't! They even refused the boxes of books we have collected up, saying they just can't sell them these days, so we took the mattresses to the tip and kept the books to give elsewhere. The tips are still demanding booking ahead, with 15 minute slots per car, so they don't get through so many people now. In the days BC (Before Covid), cars used to queue at the gates to get in and it was always crowded. However, Ann urged me to go "on spec", and reluctantly the man agreed to let us in as there was a space (they're still making cars use every other bay, even though people can meet now indoors or out). Thank you kind man. 

I am enjoying a whisky new to me, Cardu Gold, curtesy of Matthew. Described as a "generous" whisky, and easy-drinking nature, it is a well-matured, gently warming brew, ideal for relieving the stresses of the day, and numbing the constant itching over my body. It makes a very good, highly recommended medicine. 

 

 

Items for sale and a final family gathering

Our unwanted antique chair

 Our new fridge-freezer arrived on time yesterday. It's very smart, but heavy, and I admire the way the two guys carried it using shoulder harnesses to take all the weight so their hands could be used purely for guidance as they manoeuvred past the many obstructions in our hallway. Also yesterday, we continue our massive clear-out of the house and garage. We have posted pictures on Facebook of a dog cage and two nearly new mattresses, but no one wants them even for gratis. I have also posted a fine Victorian antique upholstered chair on Gumtree, but no one is interested. I guess they'll all end up at the charity shop. 

Matthew, Rosie and Arwen came down for a day on Sunday. They are about to leave King's Lynne for a chance to live in Middlesbrough, potentially a Hong Kong style boom town following the government's new initiative to turn it into a freeport. They are certainly looking forward to the prospect of moving and prospering as they prepare for the birth of a new child. Arwen already has a place booked in playschool to learn the skills of socialising after the year of isolation we have just been through. 

Ann and I amuse Arwen

She has probably not seen anyone outside the home except as face-masked anonymous figures, hiding any smile of greeting or look of approval from the eyes of a child keen to learn how her presence influences the world. We took them all for lunch to a new Lithuanian restaurant and enjoyed a first-class meal. Arwen remains a little resistant to a grandad fuss, even with her favourite toys and Grannie Ann trying to divert her. But she is definitely getting better with me: the tears are much slower to form and she is wriggling less. I just hope the distance following the great trek north will not cause a relapse in these recent grandad gains.

August has ended as much of summer, grey, drizzly, with a cold N-NE breeze. We hope for a brighter autumn. Today, Ann and I returned for a late lunch/early dinner and remained impressed with the décor, the service and the menu. I gave the waitress a good tip afterwards. She said, "are you sure?" so I said, "no, give it back!" Her look of astonishment surprised me, so I immediately tried to make up by saying of course I meant it, and I wouldn't have given it if I didn't. But Ann was not amused and said no one laughs at my humour. I must try to curtail it, but sometimes my tongue runs away with my common sense.

More good news

 Good news today. The consultant at West Suffolk Hospital phoned with the results of my recent MRI. He was delighted to tell me the X-ray of my brain showed there was nothing there! In other words, the cancer has not spread there, so they can go ahead with the PET scan of the rest of the body to check for any other possible secondaries. After that I will get the information about what they intend to do with me.

So much has happened since my last blog post. Yesterday, the freezer defrosted and seemed reluctant to refreeze all the soggy food. I finally said it was clearly broken, and we ordered a new one. This morning, everything was frozen solid again and when I measured the temperature, it was firmly at -19C! By then, Ann had thrown out much of the old frozen food ready to empty it. However, it is quite old and the shelves keep falling out, so we haven't cancelled the order. It arrives tomorrow.

Also last week the windscreen on Ann's new car had a small chip so we got the Autoglass man out to repair it. He said it was a nice easy one, and there would be no trouble doing it. He had repaired 40 screens in the Cambridge area that week, and all had gone smoothly. Unfortunately, when he cleaned Ann's prior to filling its cavity, the screen suddenly split from side to side so now we need a new one. He did not appreciate me saying he'd been tempting fate. He said there was a long wait to get a new screen, so we mentioned that I had a cancer, so might need driving to the hospital. He said he fully understood, as his wife was only 30 with a young child, and she had just been diagnosed with a serious cancer. I later joked that his trump card had been out-cancered my cancer, but no one thought it funny. Anyway, a few days later we had the new screen, and Ann's car looks like new.

Artistic cows in Cambridge

Our son Ben and Kaz came to visit on Saturday. We arranged to meet up in Cambridge at Edwin and Andre's apartment and had a lovely day showing them the city, which Kaz had never visited. We went to the Anchor pub for lunch with its wonderful view overlooking the river. We ordered the vegetarian meals, but they couldn't provide any veg! They were saving them all for the evening roast dinners. Meat clearly has too big a role in some people's lives; Ann tried to fool them by ordering a roast without the meat. She got two roast potatoes and some cabbage, but no gravy - they'd run out of the vegetarian variety. 

Cambridge is filled with cows at the moment. They have all been colourfully painted and follow the themes of some of Cambridge's great names, such as the Isaac Newton cow with wig and gaiters, or this one near the department of physics with some other famous scientists and mathematicians. 

Ben and Kaz meet us in Cambridge

I'm definitely feeling much stronger. Today too I walked the dogs in the fields behind the church without being breathless. The church was open with half a dozen cars on its drive; tomorrow is the Hundon Flower Festival, and the whole church is decked out with flowers, and they'll be serving tea and coffee. However, walking back through the village I saw no sign of anyone else decking their homes with flowers. Our old vicar described the village as "Heathen Hundon", and I think the same epitaph applies to everyone's enthusiasm to support anything in the village. I do not exempt myself from this charge - I didn't even know there was a flower festival till I passed the church.

More tests

A Quiet Time Neath Summer Skies

I scan the gravestones that arise -

The black, the grey, some barely there;

This faded wording all remains

Of lives of care and shot with pain.

I am so very weary now.

I weary on the path.

My feet drag heavy with the hour

Each lonely step I'm forced to tread.

Some say it is too much to die

And some it is enough.

As comes the moment, moment takes

Out thoughts, out words, out love, out aches.

Though hovers ending darkly near,

My song was lived in light.

No life at all would I have known

Had I not joined the fight.

July 2021

Walking with the dogs in a July sun (how long ago we saw that glow), I took the path through the fields, ending at the church yard. There, sitting in the warmth on a graveyard slab, I jotted some lines that I have just refound, and I have put them here as a reminder of how moods fluctuate.  Following the brain scan on Tuesday (Whisky, scans and phones), every time I forget a name or word, or do something silly, I immediately say: "it's in the brain!". However, we received a phone call from the hospital telling me an appointment has been requested for a whole body (from "eyes to thighs" as the woman put it) PET scan at Addenbrookes. So now we wait upon another test, searching for possible secondaries, but this is good news as we think they would not bother with further tests if the brain scan had shown extensive spread. 

In Clare, the Bell Hotel has reopened after two years of closure, so on Thursday we went in for a drink to see what it was like. They greeted us at the door with a glass of prosecco, and plied us with trays of canapés, which was all very welcoming, so yesterday we booked a table to test the food. We were the only people in that restaurant. It was not good. The chef told us they had refurbished the kitchen, and invested in a smoker he wanted, so much of the food was offered as smoked. I opted for the grilled sea bass, unsmoked. It came with a smokey smell and a mountain of salad, and was very dry. Ann had the only vegetarian option: a strange mix of mangled vegetables like a weird coleslaw without the mayonase. We were the only people in that resaurant. Afterwards the chef came to see how we'd enjoyed it. He boasted that he liked to add some smoking to 'improve' the flavour. We left much of the meal, but being their first night did not like to complain. However, they virtually complained about us, saying 'did we not enjoy it', or 'was it too much?' Even the coffee was undrinkable. I asked for a latte, but their machine had not arrived so they made it with Nescafe and half and half milk. But they didn't warm the milk, so even the coffeee was cold. Afterwards, we retired to the Swan, our favourite haunt for post-prandial drinks.

Whisky, scans and phones

I may have mentioned once or twice before in these notes Scotland's great contribution to civilisation. I endeavour to uphold the tradition of a good toast to success, failure, hope, enjoyment, or melancholy - which pretty well covers most eventualities. There are thousands of permutations of these nectars distilled in heaven, and I have collected a fair few of these wonderful cure-alls. Most are well depleted, but I like to keep them in their boxes, which are part of the character of the drink and often give a potted history of the location and flavourings of the inner heart. I had lost track of the ones I have, and some of them had been hidden at the back of the shelf gathering dust, so yesterday Ann and I pulled them out to take a look. It is a good selection, gathered from visits, or gifted at Christmas's and birthdays by my thoughtful children. But most were selected by Ann herself, often as a momento of a visit to some hidden bar that served a different or unusual brew of barley. I am no connoissour, and would be hard pressed to identify a region let alone a label, but they all have distinct flavours and it is always a pleasure to find one I haven't touched for a while.

Today I had my brain scan. It was not traumatic in any way, although one patient came out and, seeing Ann, assumed she was waiting to go in so tried to reassure her by saying he hadn't slept all night worrying about it, but it was quite safe! I was already in by then and under the machine. They provide ear plugs and headphones with loud music, but even they could not mask the incredible noise the machine made - it was like standing next to a road drill interspersed with clicks and beeps. The table even throbbed and vibrated like being next to a road drill. The only painful thing was the cannula in the back of my hand, which stung and came up in a blue mound when the removed it. I think the worst thing will be waiting for the results to see if the cancer has spread, and if so how far. Another week of waiting and wondering.

The MRI Unit awaits us

Ann has bought a new phone. It isn't on contract, so we have also managed to reduce the rental charges. Edwin uploaded all her data and wiped her phone, then had a look at mine. It's as well he did: he noticed the screen was beginning to pop out of its case due to battery swelling, exactly as happened with my old Samsung. The trouble seems to lie with the way I leave the phones charging overnight, then forget to take them with me the next day. This means the batteries are constantly overcharged which leads to them weakening, leaking and swelling. It's as well Edwin spotted it, or it might have caught fire in my pocket. So now I have a new phone too - in the shape of Ann's old one, and my old one will be left switched off for safety.