A good clear out

 Good news yesterday. I had waited all day for news from the medical team at Addenbrookes, who were meeting that morning to discuss my case. Finally at 5pm, when I had assumed I would not hear that day, the consultant at West Suffolk phoned in person to tell me what had been discussed: the PET scan last week, looking for any secondary spread from the lung, was clear. This was a huge relief. Until then, I kept wondering with every ache in my body if the cancer had spread to some new part. Now I must just wait for the appointment to discuss what they will do to manage the lung lesion. Possible excision of that part of the lung is one possibility, which itself is not a happy prospect, but much better than being told the thing is inoperable. 

Edwin too has had some good news: because of the dearth of openings as an academic lecturer, he has been sending off job applications for a whole range of alternatives to see if anything will turn up. He has now been offered a job as Post-Grad careers advisor which he may accept, but also has another interview as Conference Organiser for Wolfson College in the University of Cambridge, where the majority of students are postgraduates. His future is beginning to open up, and its direction will soon become clearer.

The old grandfather

We have now cleared out the garage, a monumental task for which we sought professional help. A woman with a van came to help Ann go through everything and threw it all on a large open truck. Some she will keep or give to friends; other bits will go to the charity shops (though she agrees they aren't taking much at the moment) and some will have to go for recycling or to the tip. Her total charge was not much more than skip hire, so she was well worth having. Also, Ann advertised all the old clocks on the Hundon Facebook page free for collectors - they were snapped up, especially the old grandfather clock. I had bought it with the best of intentions to get it going, but like so much else in my life it came to nothing. The only thing that has not gone is an old barometer. Someone promised to come tonight, but never turned up. Good cars are so scarce at the moment, a knock-on effect from a shortage of chips from the Far East inhibiting new car production, that Ann has gone with Edwin to Lichfield today to pick up his new car. 

Last night I had one of my worse nights, awake for long periods with coughing that nothing seemed to ease. I felt as though I were clearing my insides out, in sympathy with the garage. Even though I came down for a couple of hours, I so disturbed Ann she suffered equally with me. She thinks she will sleep all the way to Lichfield. 

A win for Raducanu and a loss for Last Night of the Proms

We have always watched Last Night of the Proms, generally from the inertia of habit, but also to celebrate something uniquely English. In my student youth, I even got tickets for two Last Nights, standing with the other Promenaders close to the front rail. I even managed a surreptitious photo of Colin Davis conducting the Last Night festooned with paper streamers fired from the audience. In contrast, I am not a tennis fan. Unlike Ann, I never even played the game as a child, and have never watched finals at Wimbledon or other great rackets. But following the headline trail of Emma Raducanu from rank outsider to finalist at the US Open, I determined that this should be the one tennis match I would watch, even sacrificing the Last Night to do so. And boy was it worth it! That woman was a wonder to behold, turning me into an instant fan with each amazing stroke. She even seized her moment of luck when it was most needed on the last set, turning a fall and bleeding cut to her advantage to regain composure while her opponent, the plucky Leylah Fernandez, was growing more visibly frustrated and dispirited each moment of waiting. Finally came that wondrous ace, with game set and match. This will surely be ranked among the all-time great matches. You, dear reader, will note I am quick to learn the lingo, though I did keep referring to the start as the kick off and the court as the pitch. 

Let no one call me Brainless

On Saturday, I received the CD I had requested showing my brain scans.  They make a fascinating sequence of cross sections which can be run through like a movie, starting from one side and emerging at the opposite. It's not a view of oneself one normally sees - but quite amazing to be suddenly presented with this new aspect of one's inner being. The head is a three-dimensional construction, shey represent the three possible ways of sectioning it, Coronal, Transverse and Sagittal in the jargon. Other specialities have their own jargon. I had to do Technical Drawing at school, a subject now as obsolete as doing history from the viewpoint of the English conquerors, and we called them Front Elevation, Side Elevation and Plan. Sailing has latitude and longitude, the third dimension, radius, being fixed, but specified an aeronautics as altitude. In astronomy they are Declination and Right Ascension. The third dimension is then distance to the star either from the sun, or from the centre of the galaxy.

I also took two more boxes of books to the church. They seemed very grateful to get them, and so they should be, for turning the corner into the church yard I scraped the side of the car on a high kerb and will have to get it resprayed or repainted. Perhaps I should be called brainless after all, the number of times I seem to scrape the car. I may have to exchange it for an old builder's truck, if my driving deteriorates much further.

Terry Barton is a lively, interesting man who works in the next village out of an old barn behind one of the farms. I drove in to see him this morning, and he came out to greet me like an old friend with, "I haven't seen you for a while". He does the best repairs to car damage for miles around, and for considerably less than a Jaguar dealership would charge. His barn is filled with cars and motorcycles in various states of being stripped and repainted, some hanging from the ceiling, other lying on their roof upside down with wheels in the air. He chatted for a while about his two daughters, one at and the other about to start at university, then came out to look at my efforts to remould the car's looks.

Terry's barn

He admired the new car as he assessed the damage, and admitted that, following repairs to my previous Jag, he too had bought one. His back has been bad for years - not a good thing in his trade - and the Jag is the most comfortable car he has found for it. Also, he likes to drive round with the heated seat on even in summer to give him some ease. The poor fellow had a stroke when he was only 30, so is on anticoagulants and can't take many common painkillers. He crawled underneath for a fuller assessment, but emerged shaking his head. The strip was in two colours, blue and black, but had split at one point. If I don't mind driving round with an embarrassing gap, he will take it off and see what he can do short of having to order a new moulding from Jag, and then I will get the quote. I can't wait.

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.