It has been some weeks since I last wrote. Readers of the last post will know it all went a bit shit for a few days. I am glad to report that I have not had a recurrence since, but then again, I had a 3 week gap between cycles. After last time, and my wife mobilising the troops, I was kept busy with visits from various friends, all of which were welcomed, and provided good food for the soul.
I had asked the oncologist for a delay to cycle 4 to enable a trip down to Southsea to see New Order headline Sunday at the Victorious festival. Me and 2 friends drove down to see them for the 3rd time this summer, and met up with my brother-in-law and his family. It was a good festival, and threw up a few excellent surprise acts, not least the Southsea Alternative Choir (as recommended by the BIL). New Order themselves were on form, better than Bristol, maybe not as good as Dublin. All in, we drove back with plans of heading to Southsea next year for maybe the full thing.
Cycle 4 started with the obligatory blood work and pre-assessment meeting. For bloods this time, it seemed everyone wanted some: as well as the normal samples, both clinical genetics and a clinical trial team wanted a vial or 2. The meeting itself was quick and easy: telling the oncologist what a shit few weeks I had had, but being told my blood markers were all good, and so we were good to go again on the Friday.
The next day I had an airport run to collect my wife, who was over for a couple of weeks, and then back to the hospital on the Friday morning for some more Peaky Blinders and IV lines. The session in the day unit is getting to be old hat: which I guess is a good thing. I am also starting to recognise a lot of the faces, both patients and staff, around the place. After the session we headed home and I crashed out.
On Saturday I decided to chance a trip to Ashton Gate to see us play Middlesbrough, with the slow release pump still attached. I took it all very sensibly, avoiding crowds and crushing, and the only negative being failing to beat a very beatable Boro team. Always next time. The next day was pump disconnection: again this proved troublesome. The nurse was unaware of one part of the process: it ended up with getting called back in and having another line put in. In the greater scheme of things, no big deal.
On Monday I was back in the hospital for the mid-cycle CT scan. This is a big deal: it will give an idea if the chemo has had any impact on the various masses in my body.
This past week we spent up in Manchester watching the 4th Ashes test. It afforded us time to have dinner with various old friends, catch up with friends and family at the cricket, including people I hadn't seen for nigh on a decade or more. I get very predictable in Manchester, particularly in my choices of restaurant, and got stick more than once for hitting both The Yang Sing and The Shere Khan in our first 2 nights there. If it ain't broke, and all that. We met 2 friends at the Yang Sing (both from uni, one ended up being 1 of my 3 best men at our wedding, the other an usher, so very good friends), and I got put in my place about my condition in a way only close friends can do: they are both qualified pharmacists and were chatting about some issue or other, one of them asked how I was doing, I got about 1 sentence out, and he cut me off with "that's enough about you" and went back to talking about dispensing pills of some shape and colour.
The cricket was enjoyable in terms of the company, and test cricket is a particularly social sporting occasion: 30+ hours of play spread over 5 days, with breaks for lunch, tea and drinks provides ample time for milling about and chatting. It was less enjoyable in terms of result (Australia gave us a hiding, they were simply too good) and weather. Manchester in September is never the warmest or driest of times, but this was the coldest I ever recall being at a cricket match. That said, I generally watch cricket in the Caribbean.
Over the 5 days we spent time with siblings, in-laws, friends from school, uni, work. And also friends of friends and friends of friends of friends. It was excellent. And provided the ideal diversion from my current condition. Most of the people knew what had gone on, but one lad only found out at the cricket, and I got a lovely note from him later on that day. This is someone who I have known for over a decade, via a friend of a friend, and I have met maybe 5 times in my life (all but one involving test matches at Old Trafford). Notwithstanding the short time we have actually spent time together, I know he was totally sincere in his support. Scratched record time, but this sort of stuff continues to make me shed a tear now and again.
We bailed on Manchester before the end of day 5, and listened to our valiant capitulation on the drive south. Now back to do some work before a potentially pivotal day on Wednesday: I should get results of the CT scan. Wish me luck.