alreet there my amazing friends?

Apologies for no blogs as of late. But it is fair to say in the main I have been feeling grade 1 crap.  It really is the most seriously difficult time I’ve ever been through in my life - without question.  I remember I’ve had my penicillin allergy which was very serious - throat closing up and stuff (luckily not fully) where I felt truly fucking vile for a number of weeks. I’ve also had a very, very serious case of flu, which only post event was I told just how serious it was and  I’ve had the horrible recovery from the op in Germany and subsequent problems with the drainage pipe when  returned home. They were very hard but not a patch on what I’m feeling today. I’ll name the list:

·                     Puking issues

·                     Acid issues

·                     Hiccups all day, (it really isn’t funny after half an hour)

·                     Extreme tiredness, ( even when I’ve had a good nap, I just feel like having another)

·                     Zero appetite

·                     and I’ve poo’d a mountain of shit. Every hour my body sends me to unleash another fucking load. I really am lost as to how many times I’ve been today and how my belly could physically hold this. 

There must just be a backlog from a little bit of morphine constipation  But all in one day, when you’re feeling dog tired it is very, very annoying  And I think if you collected up the total volume of what I have poo'd out today, it would make up quite a large buckets worth, which is deeply unpleasant. And the last thing you want to do is go to the toilet a lot when your feeling really tired. So I’ve had to have the missus or my dad quite literally hoist me out of my position on the settee and onto my feet. As another aside I’m dizzy as fuck. I’ve also got horrendously dry skin on certain parts of my body.  This has left me with a flaky face like some kind of low grade leper and hands that are cracked and dry and ugly.  Oh almost forgot, have I mentioned the agonising stomach pains. Truly, truly horrific, (Or as King Willy says in Predator 2 in a heavy Jamaican accent “ Dread man, truuuuuly dread”,which is only helped by administering a dose of morphine, which hardly helps with the tiredness. At one point it was so bad I retired to the bedroom and lay on the bed, I had the missus to the left of me, my mam to the right of me all holding my hands fussing me and my Dad at the bottom of the bed rubbing my feet for me.  It felt so magical, I felt so peacefully being surrounded by the people I love. all just wanting to take away this pain I was crippled with.

On the plus side I used my Zopiclone sleeping tablet again last night, which I have used with too many expectation in the past (as I can only take the lower dose), thinking it would knock me right out within half an hour. But as I lay there I felt a delicious warm fuzzy edge descend over all the objects, so that nothing was truly distracting in my mind. Yeah it just really softened the edges of my mind really nicely and I had a very good night sleep on it.

I had a canny day yesterday as well.  Well, the second half, the morning was the usual pile of shit, as pretty much every morning is these days.  But that’s the way the cooky crumbles. I read this back and it sounds like such big fucking winge, which I hate to think of it being but all I’m trying to do is relay my experiences in the most honest way possible, as I have always done through this cancer experience. But still it must be a bit tiresome to read when it is not quite so jocular as usual.  But in all honesty without my incredible wife, the support and love of my family and obviously the love from my wife. Without those and my love for them, I could see many people opting to accidently give themselves the wrong morphine dose.  And I couldn’t tell if one of them wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have my family and my oh so amazing wife, because I can’t bear to contemplate getting by without them being around. That would be the stiff of nightmares to me. Yet some people must do it and obviously not opt to take the misery away. And they must be truly, truly, truly remarkable people.    I can’t even imagine how they could do it.

There’s been lots of other interesting incidents in my life but I don’t really have the time to run through as I want to get snuggled down fairly early, so instead I’ll leave you with a poem.

My love for all burns timeless, beyond this frail prison of a body. One day I shall burst forth leaving behind my tiny shell. Ill span the universe, al the while watching over you, from my ageless dominion. I’ll always be near, whispering words you can’t hear but you’ll always feel the warmth of my supernova heart.

Good night

From Graeme 

Hi there hazeys big sis here. Graeme kindly gave me his username and password tonight and I felt strongly compelled to write something. Most of you will be out celebrating this evening, toasting the future; all I ask is that when you come to read this send all the positive thoughts you can muster to my brave and wonderful brother. He is trekking a hard road and hell he doesn't deserve it. It is desperate to see a loved one suffer like this so hold yours tight and think of Hazey, he really needs a boost at the moment.

Best wishes to you all

Mel x

Hello everyone. Today I d like today blog about my dad.  I intend to do one about all he members of my very small family, but I thought Id kick off with my dad. 

My dad has always been quite a complex character, one that has taken many years to understand. Although I am getting to the stage now where I understand him more and more as my character moulds partially to his.  He has always been such a gentle man even though his frame is huge and he is a very tall man, very imposing, he scares a lot of people, but I have never seen my dad rise to anything close to anger really.  He is quite incredible like that and I admire those qualities a great deal, that serene calmness.  I guess he’s just born to be very gentle man. He always avoids conflicts if there has been family conflicts about. He prefers just to stay out of the way, which is his way of dealing with things.  It isn’t always the right way, but I understand why he does it because in the long run it leas to a lot less hassle, something I have learned over the years. .

Yum just having a halls soother, It is very nice, I do enjoy them even though I don’t really have a sore throat, they are nice and soothing and they might just reduce this horrible windy acid. A bit of a vain hope, but I can believe it in my own way. Anyways back to my Dad. He has always been very guarded with his emotions. This I also understand as he is sort of a product of his generation really and to an extent (no offence to anyone) but his location. Growing up in a tough area of the North - Castletown, Sunderland. Well he grew up in lots of places really (such as Fencehouses) which are fairly grim. I am sure most men from those days weren’t encouraged to talk about their emotions, which is in complete contrast to me who has been brought up with the idea of expressing your emotions. But it is all so different with me because I am an incredibly emotional man.  That might sound poofy to admit but I am. Feelings are very important to me and telling people about my feelings is very important to me and also I can cry at the drop of a hat at the most ridiculous things, for example the Star Trek episode the other day, or even just articles in papers or if something just catches me off I just start crying. Certainly a week doesn’t go by without me crying at some point.   Much more than that normally, I’d hesitate to say every day but certainly very regularly and sometimes I can just get going again and again and again. I am a bit of a drip to be quite frank, but then we are all built differently.So my dad has always been very guarded but that doesn’t mean I haven’t known how much he loves me – at any point of my life, even when I was very young and my dad didn’t want to be around young children and he worked away most of the time, at one time doing a few stints out in Kuwait. I used to miss him terribly. It was less of an issue when he worked away just during the week as obviously I would always see him at weekends but as I say it has never been an issue that he hasn’t loved us or anything. I have known without question that he has always loved me and my sister deeply - I don’t know how but maybe you just pick up these things, He is certainly never cold, just avoids getting too emotional, which now I am of an age and I talk to my dad a lot more than I had done previously (due to me suffering this cancer) I do understand why he does what he does. He told me it is because he doesn’t want to lose control of his emotions. He is scared of it and once he starts, he may drop to bits and so (not drop to bit but you know what I mean) it might all come gushing out.

Some of the happiest times of my life have been spent with my Dad and that is without doubt.  I used to regularly go away with my Dad and he was part of a North East boat fishing club and they would have holidays to south west Scotland.

…..shes tuned the hoover on for fuck sake!!

which is a beautiful area. I have such amazing memories. Well firstly the times when I have just been sat out on my Dads boat. It is only a 20ft fishing boat, it’s not like a yacht or anything. It’s just been me or him, (me AND him) and the sound of the water clip clopping on the boat on a beautiful sunny day.  I cherish those times so much, the way we could just sit in silence and be totally happy with that and just taking in the nature of it all. He has always loved nature, he has always expressed an interest in nature and all facets of that area and I guess I get some of that from my dad and our boat trips. He used to teach me certain things and I used to love having a cup of tea out of the thermos and having ham sandwiches and sharing a kitkat and having the indignity of peeing over the side. The tea was always stirred with his filling knife which had been given a wipe on his smock - I think if my mam could have seen things like that it would have been a bit of an eye opener. We had such great times out there and he was always so patient with me when he was asking me to do things, whereas some of his fishing friends (when I went out with them) could get a bit annoyed when I didn’t understand that they wanted some rope tying off in some place or stuff. I just used to love those times and I am pretty sure that we both did.  And as time went on he gave me more and more responsibility. I used to drive the boat a lot and I was given anchor pulling duties, which I really enjoyed. My Dad would maneouvre the boat to trip the anchor and it needed to be pulled in straight away otherwise it would re-anchor itself and I would have to fly though pulling the rope in. I really felt like we were a team. I could never put a worm on my hook though as I cant bear ragworms. They are the most scary horrible creatures in the world, (well that may be a but far actually but they are awful, creepy, they look like something from Star trek) but that wasn’t the only reason - I didn’t want to thread something live onto a hook. Also I couldn’t kill fish, so that was almost always left to my dad with his rounders bat, although I always got covered with post- death shit. I certainly could never gut the fish and had to avoid that whenever my dad did that because the sights and smells of that were truly repellent   As an aside I always remember bringing a bag of fish home one day when he was living (one of the many times he was separated from my Mam) in a house off Sea Road and he hadn’t had time to gut the fish at sea and so he got it done at home, but obviously you don’t want fish guts in your bin as you can obviously imagine the smell they create, especially in the middle of summer while waiting for the bin man to take your bin away at some point, so he popped all the guts in a carrier bag and sent me and my sister out to put these carrier bags in the public bins in Sea road, which we duly did We felt sorry for the road sweeper who we actually know, as he resided in the foal school  nearby, he had his base of operations there. I always felt a bit guilty about that but it was like water off a ducks back to my Dad. Imagine that, going round pulling a bag of guts out of the bin – oh dear he would have just had to put them in his bins until they were taken away, which would have created an ungodly smell .  Anyway back to where I was. They were superb times, all the fantastic wonders of nature he exposed me to on the boat. He really opened my eyes and showed me what was out there and just how wonderful it could be. He has been a true inspiration in that sense. But I loved coming back and going to the club house where he would have a drink with all his friends (who are very nice people) while the kids would play. We weren’t allowed in the main bar, there was a sub bar that we had to sit in which had a pool table in so we would often play pool but he would come and have a game with me quite regularly while I was hounding him for money for the arcade that was populated by machines from the dark ages. But still it was good fun and it had the 2p gambling machines, not the pull handle ones, the proper electronic ones – 2p a go, even the jackpot really wasn’t worth winning. I used to find it very amusing seeing my dad come in drunk to the caravan where he would always be a good laugh - a few beers inside his and he’s rolling. With there being cost cutting going on we had to share bedrooms and there was about five or six fishing club people staying in the caravan at the same time. So me and my Dad slept in the same bed in the double room which was a little odd, not least because my dad snores horrifically and getting to sleep during that was quite a difficult task.  But all during the days were fantastic, even the days when the weather was too rough or the winds were too high. We used to drive around and go to the Mull of Gallaway and all these different places, often with one of his friends – Brian, who is still a good friend to him today, probably is his best and closest friend and I understand why. Brian is a lovely man who has been very, very nice to me and all the time I was growing up.  I remember him saying last time we went up there, just the other year (me and the missus) how he thought it was wonderful how I’d come out (I was allowed to drink in the main bar at this point) of my shell so much and how I was less shy than I was as a child and how I’d done well for myself and things like that.  He is a very nice man. And so I was often driving around with Brian and my Dad. Brian was a pipe smoker and lit his pipe constantly, even when the weather was rubbish and we had to have the windows closed it didn’t stop him lighting up his pipe and flooding the whole car, yet I did actually enjoy the smell of the pipe. I hate cigarettes and cigars -I never used to hate cigars, but that changed for various reasons – nothing sinister it’s just boring. But pipe smoking I have never tired of, I adore it.  We used to go to so many places and because it’s such a nature filled area it was great to explore and it was always interesting coming in from a days fishing going through the ritual of getting the boats out of the water and getting them up the beach – very hard work, but the sense of achievement once you’d done it was very good. I was nearly always left to haul the boat while they went to collect trailers, sometimes to a mile away and because the tide went out very far I used to get quite worried at times if the sea was rougher trying to hold onto a boat. Sometimes I was given a few peoples boats to hang onto which was a tremendous responsibility for someone to give a kid to look after their £15-£20k boat while they went and got trailers. In later years my dad even let me drive the car with the boat on the back (only on the beach!). It was such an adventure when you’re young although I was such a bad driver with the trailer because you need to know how to reverse and things and that was quite hard. My dad having a decent job, he always had decent cars – (yes he had four wheel drives obviously because he had a purpose for it) and so I never quite got the hang of that but driving in a straight line and doing big circles with the trailers was fine and it felt amazing that my Dad trusted me with his really posh car. I just felt proud as punch as a kid driving this huge vehicle that was ridiculously big for me and by far the most expensive object I had been given. A car I could have totally messed things up and crashed  – pretty hard on an empty beach but I still could have, but he trusted me as he always has really. He has always trusted me and relied on me when getting in the boat when its been a bit tricky and dangerous There have been times when I’ve been worried about my dad because he’s put himself in sort of perilous situations and I’ve never admitted this, but I did worry about him. You’d be driving up the beach (I wouldn’t - my Dad would), him in his bare feet, me often in waders, often in bare feet as well and there was a real sense of achievement of almost against all the odds getting the boat on the trailers. Then there would be a celebratory pint in the pub (not for me as I was a child), but for the others, which was great. Often in a pub that would let me in because they wouldn’t use the camp site club all the time. 

There has always been a tremendous amount of security when being around my Dad. Even though I’ve never seen him raise to anger, never mind violence to any description, but just his sheer size and bulk makes you feel safe. I remember telling him recently something me and my sister had been discussing about when we were growing up. We were in separate bedrooms and my mam would be in one and during the week when my dad was away we both used to get really scared when we went to the toilet just across the hall because we imagined things walking up the stairs,  as you could see over the bannister down the stairs. I used to imagine a skeleton, she used to imagine an intruder which shows the difference in our imaginations I guess.  But we’d always run to the toilet and run back again. When I’ve explained this to my mam she said it was because she was a bit scared herself being home alone but when my dad was there, there was suddenly no problem. It was like ‘my Dads here so of course there are no skeletons’. I could just walk to the toilet and happily walk back. That was always the case when my Dad was home from work, it always felt like there was nothing to fear. That was very comforting in my childhood and it’s never really changed, I suppose it’s still the same to this day.

He has always been a person to inspire confidence. It feels good just being around my Dad. You see the way people look at him and they are scared stiff. The amount of times people have commented to my mam about him. But you know the secret that he’s the most gentle man on the planet, but he still has that scary demeanour to other people, (until they know him obviously) and that makes you feel safe. I guess that’s why of late when my Dad comes to visit he’s been much more open to hugs and things and a lot more open to emotion in general. He just gives the best hugs.  I’m still dwarfed by him even though I am a fully grown man - I am dwarfed in all dimensions. When he gives me a big bear hug I’ve said before in my blog you could drop an atom bomb and I’d survive with my Dad hugging me, nothing can touch me with my Dad hugging me like that. He just holds so tight and gives you a hug that just feels so safe and so loving and that’s very important. It makes me feel almost childlike again when he visits and he first arrives and gives me a hug and when he leaves he gives me a hug. Last time when he went to leave, he gave me a huge hug and we didn’t let go for ages and ages.  I know as time wore on he was welling up so I let him go as I knew he wouldn’t have wanted to get emotional. I’m very conscious of bearing that in mind with my dad.

In later years we developed a close bond as soon as I was old enough to go the pub. Naturally what else would a father want with his son, I know I’d certainly like that. My Dad has always been a very big pub man and he’s a great character in the pub, always funny, always a very, very good laugh. He’s got a great sense of humour. As I got older, into my 20’s he’d seek my company more and more in the pub and I his. My parents have moved to Chester-le-Street now, whereas I grew up in Fulwell, Roker, Seaburn, Whitburn all those sorts of places.  We’d always go to the Market Tavern - this was in the days when it was run well and it was really popular. I’ve heard things have changed now, but it used to have a great atmosphere so we just used to sit – he’d have his Boddingtons, I’d have my Guinness and we’d talk all night about MAN stuff. We were never short of conversation, it was so natural with my Dad, we had a great laugh together, a great chat and some great nights - just me and my dad. He drinks at quite a pace so it is quite hard work keeping up with him, but you want to keep up with him as you want to feel that you’re part of his group, you don’t want to feel “oh dear, I’ve fallen behind, how shameful”. And then we’d go and get a pizza from Bridgend Kebabs and he’d get a taxi home (because my parents had permanently separated at this time) and I’d go back to my Mam’s house. Even when I was home for two weeks at Christmastime we’d still go to the pub every night that both of us were free – most nights.  Every night “fancy a pint?” and after having a lovely tea made by my Mam I’d get myself all ready and then see him in the pub.  You’d think over such an extended time we’d run out of things to talk about, but he’s just like a really good mate that you can just sit and talk and talk and talk. That brought me very close to my Dad, very close indeed. I feel I truly understand him as a person and appreciate him ever more -certainly his personality, which I obviously did before but when your exposed to all the facets like that it’s great. Even the nights when we’d both end up shit faced it was always a really good laugh but interesting as well. Again, memories I treasure. I wish I could go to the pub, have a few pints and sit with my dad, but this thing’s killed my liver. I’ve got no interest in drinking really. I haven’t drunk for months and months now and whenever I’ve tried I don’t really have a taste for it anymore. I got drunk on half a G&T last time (not drunk but tipsy).  I feel that’s a big shame because id really like those times back, but I can’t and that upsets me. Time for a pause….

Ive sorted myself out now.

I suppose I should finish with how he’s changed during this illness of mine. He obviously hates seeing me this way, but I have really appreciated the opportunity to really share some true feelings with my Dad. He’s opened himself to talking (I’ve only just found out that it’s mostly to me he talks like this) and it’s made for a different experience with my Dad and one I’ve really enjoyed. We’ve had a chance to say things to each-other and stuff like that. My Dad has said some wonderful things and I know how hard it is for him to do that sort of thing. When I’ve phoned him, I’ve had chats with him about various things, stuff like ‘what it is like to go through this?’ He likes to know and understand but I’m very conscious of pushing him too far and he might get upset and so I know how to break away to save him any kind of embarrassment. It’s been a fabulous time, obviously a heartbreaking time, but a fabulous time in so many respects.  Hearing these things from my Dad has really made a massive difference to me. When he tells me how proud he is of me (even though I’ve always known he was proud of me) to hear him say it (even in a text message) is huge. All I’ve ever wanted is my big placid dad whom I admire so much with his intelligence and everything else (because he is a very intelligent man) to be proud of me.  He has done well for himself. He’s a System Analyst type (freelance) and was all the time we were growing up, so he earns a good wage. There were never security issues on that front growing up, we’ve never been rich but we’ve always been very comfortable.  He’s made something of himself, he came from Castletown but he’s done good, so to have him proud of me is hugely important to me.    I feel privileged to be told these things by my Dad, so I have my Dark Friend to thank for some things. So to finish, I wish to relate a story my Mam told me. When she told one of her friends that she was going out with Mike Kerton the friend laughed and said “Pumper Kerton? You’re going out with Pumper Kerton?” My mam said “what?” My Mam was quite shocked by this coming from a prudish rich background , the woman went on to tell the story – apparently he is known as Pumper Kerton because he and his dad could fart up every step of the stairs, which I think is a fantastic claim to fame. One to be proud of.  Obviously I follow in his footsteps where wind is concerned . Mind you my Mam has always been windy as well. Yes so I have followed in his footsteps there.

So I’ll leave it there, and I’ll sign off with “I love you Dad”.

 My mam and dad vistited boxing day. We had a great time on the first night and were due for a cracking day out the next day.  I had booked a meal at a lovely pub and everything.  But then I had a big huge vomit in the morning. this left me feeling appaling because I totally emptied and therefore had absolutely no energy because there was nothing in my guts and you know when you feel like that the last thing you want to do is eat to get more fuel.  I needed to go to bed but I was so weak there was no way I could make it there. My big old dad carried me through like a wounded soldier and set me into bed He went to walk away and I weakly muttered “ Dad can you sit with me” He replied with “ of course son” he sat on the edge of the bed I grabbed his hand, his oh so huge hand and he held it and squeezed it and stroked it with his other hand. He did this as I drifted to sleep but not before I so weakly whispered “ I love you dad so much and I always have “ He told me he loved me and continued stroking my hand until I was fast asleep. My Mam said he was really chuffed that I asked him and I am glad too. Because it felt great. My thin in comparison tiny hand nestled in his two plate sized hands -  beautiful.  He cared for me so much the rest of their stay as I rested my feet on him and he rubbed my feet to keep them warm.  My feet get so cold with the narrow veins caused by the chemo.  It was a fantastic visit despite plans not working out accordingly and it made me tearful when he texted to let me know he had had a wonderful time and he couldn’t wait to see me again soon.

Hello everyone,

Well I had another fairly crap night.  I was set up on my bed station in the lounge and settled in and fell asleep while watching die hard (late night die hard 2 tonight…winner).  I thought ‘sod this, I want to hug the missus’ so I headed through and got in to bed.  About half an hour later I woke with hideous acid reflux, coughing like a fucker with a mouthful of the taste of bile, so back to the settee for me  L  think we have the solution to that now, it may be as simple as my steroid tablets haven’t been coated so they dissolve in my stomach causing it to be rather upset.  So I’ll get coated  tablets and it might all disappear.  Grand.

I felt a little odd when I woke up, a wee bit tense so a dose of light morphine and I was calmed.  Just to be clear again, this is very very light stuff, the equivalent of two of my painkillers, so I’m not fucking monged or owt.

We had a rush  on doing various stuff and the missus mentioned how she’d popped to the station and the disabled can park right near the entrance for nowt all day and no one was using em.  And just by good fortune, what turned up this morning but my blue spanner badge for the car!  At last,, and just before we set off an arl.  So off we popped and slipped straight in to the space and affixed our new blue badge, superb.

We jumped on the train and I was starting to feel really good, I was ready for a nice day out, even if it was just to the fucking hospital.  I enjoyed sitting on the train, I do love trains when they aint packed and stuff and you can just relax, watch the world go by with that gentle rocking motion.  Bliss.  I am reminded about how much I really want to travel on a sleeper train for a few days, just to experience it as I’ve always wanted to do it.  Made a promise to myself to scan round the internet for a journey at some point.  If I want it that bad I really should do it, get off my arse and sort it.

The tube station wasn’t too busy which made a nice change so we got ourselves on and got settled.  I was starting to bubble with feelings of intense happiness, joy and just general love of all things.  However drippy that may sound.  The middle aged woman sat opposite looked across at me and gave a really warm big smile.  Such and unusual sight on the tube, for anyone unfamiliar with London, eye contact is generally frowned upon on the tube, in a city this size there are too many people and therefore too many social freaks to risk engaging anyone.  I smiled a big smile right back to her and felt heartened.

We got through to the hospital and made our way up to the chemo ward.  I walked through the door and bumped in to the northern catering woman.  I stopped to have a wee natter, she was wondering where I had got to as I’m no longer residential.  She’s so lovely and I mentioned how chilly it was and straight away ‘do you want a pot of tea of then love?’, just the words you want to here!  ‘Get yourself comfy and I’ll bring it trough for you’, winner.  Got in to the lounge area and in comes a lovely pot of tea in a nice china teapot with a plate of ace biscuits.  Brilliant!  The little lovely Chinese head nurse popped through, who’s about 3ft tall, and took my bloods.  Now we just had a wait ahead but then in pops catering woman with a beautiful cream cheese and tomato ciabatta sandwich for me and the missus.  What a fucking star (I say it too often but man, private care, it really rules).  We then popped down to the hospital canteen for a bit something extra to eat.  Well, that was for me only, as I’m a reet fucking gannet at the minute.  In the canteen a whole parade of nurses popped to say hello before they left, they all knew my name and seemed genuinely pleased to see me.  I felt so warm and cared for and, well, I dunno, liked, I guess.  I know they all really like dealing with me as I never moan or gripe, never ring my buzzer unless necessary and I always have a smile and chat for them.  I’ve left them a card saying what wonderful people they are and how much I appreciate their support over the past year.  During our stay in the canteen a woman got her dinner and dropped a carrot, a big tall fella walked in, stepped on it, did that panicky slide thing then went flat on his arse in front of everyone.  He was obviously ok and given help but it was one of those comical falling overs you just can’t help but laugh at.  Poor fella must have felt a reet tit, and then to find out you slipped on a fucking baby carrot, humiliating.

We then quickly had a walk to Kensington shops to pick up some HMV stuff.  Saw some graffiti saying ‘and who’s going to believe you?’, hehe, I love comical graffiti like that.  I remember  story about favourite graffiti on b3ta.com.  some guy was having a shit in some toilets in one of the many huge underpasses in Croydon.  He noticed on the door an instruction to ‘follow this line’ with a dotted line leading away.  All round the cubicle it went, under the cistern, everywhere before progressing outside of it.  He finished up and followed the line as it snaked all over.  He spent ages following it and finally when he followed it under the sinks the line ended and the words at the end?  ‘cunt’.  Superb.  I love humour like that, imagine how many people have followed that only to be met with ‘cunt’. 

A young Aussie girl was so amazingly helpful in there and served us in such a friendly way, wishing us a nice Christmas, which I returned with compliments on her personality and left her with a smile, always nice.

We briskly walked back and I felt so good, so full of energy and smiles.  Got back up and the doctor had been to see me when I was out.  Bugger.  But he’d be back up before too long. 

Phew, I’ve just been for a shit after a few trying events and fuck me, what a monster.  Mountainous.  Truly huge.  I feel like a new man.

Anyway, another pot of tea.  I had written out a card for my oncologist telling him how lucky I am to be treated by him, how I really like him as a person and how he’s just generally an ace doctor.  He came in with his usual beaming face and slightly hyper attitude and I just think he’s great.  He had a chirpy chat and was very chuffed with his card.  He told me he bloods were ok and I looked really healthy and he was very pleased by how I active I was and said it appears to be holding as it isn’t advancing ‘with any great venom’, which is of course excellent news.  He flitted off but gave me a lovely warm handshake.  I was pleased by the fact he was uite nonchalant about when he would next see me, he said I could leave it 4 weeks or three or still see him in two.  We opted to see him in two but as I say, the ‘whenever’ attitude felt good.  We headed off, saying goodbye to everyone we could on the way out before popping down to the basement level to try and book and see physio fella again to get some breathing tips.  He’s back in New Zealand though so we’ll see him in January.  We had been hugging and kissing all day, like fucking teenagers or summat but as we waited for the lift me and the missus had a fab tender snog (nee one was about) and I looked in her eyes as she beamed back and that happiness just burst from us both, untouchable, totally untouchable.  We hugged, me doing my best bear hug and just felt, I dunno, the happiest I’ve ever felt I reckon, it was pure, undiluted love and happiness.  My beautiful wonderful wife, everything I am and ever could be, two fragments of one soul reunited on earth.  She’s just….perfect, if I could allow her to see just how bright my love is she’d be blinded by the beauty.  The lift opened and we parted and stepped in.

We had a lovely tube journey home, holding hands then on to the train where we got separated so I had to wait for her in the pub and we had a wee drink before heading back.  My family were really chuffed by the news.  God I love em.

My arse started to twitch so it was a bit of a struggle getting home, I hadn’t crapped at all during my outing so I knew it was going to be big.  Very big.  But my fucking god, I laid K2 (or 3) in the pan.  I was proud as punch.  More shits followed of smaller but still mountainous size,, like individual ‘shatterhorn’s.

 But I just feel so empowered with a massive amount of love for everything.  I find myself talking to all sorts of people, smiling and just exuding this ‘aura’ of happiness, which I think people gravitate towards, I find people talking to me out of the blue a lot more than previously.  I don’t know what flows through me but I see it as my God in my being, I am lit up like a candle, burning with such power, love, care and wonder fills my every cell to bursting point.  I am truly alive for the first time in my life, truly awake to everything.

Anyways, nuff for now

This horrid tension led me to cancelling a visit from the in-laws, which I didn’t want to do as I was really looking forward to seeing them, they really are lovely people.  They’d just got to Beckenham an arl, bless em.
Bugger, I’ve fucked this up, didn’t finish it yesterday and so I suppose I can chronicle todays events but all the tenses will sound wrong.  Hey ho.
Well, I shamed last nights dumping efforts by doing a shit the likes of which the gods have never seen.  The physical amount being a source of great pride, I kinda wish someone else could have seen this to just see their face as they mutter ‘jesus wept’.  Don’t worry, I didn’t wake the missus to show her, honest.  No really, I didn’t.  You could have re-enacted the scene from Jurassic Park with Jeff goldblum as they go and see the sick triceratops ‘that is one big pile of shit’, indeed it was Jeff.  I needed a sit down and recover after that epic emptying so I made my way to the front room.  I added a bit more content to my deflated guts with a bowl of Cheerios.  I watched some programmes I had recorded then, somewhat unwisely, fell asleep on the settee.  Woke at 5 am with severe acid reflux.  It had travelled quite far down the windpipe.  There may be trouble ahead…. Here comes the vomit.  I didn’t have time to get out big metal sick bowls from the kitchen so I just had to unload on the table while frantically shouting ‘Liz!...Liz!’ but I had shut the bedroom door so it took a while to penetrate the door and wake her up.  She came rushing in to be greeted by the sight of a table full of vom while I’m still going at it.  She rushed for the sick bowl and got it under me quick smart.  The stomach kept spasming due to the nature of the acid in windpipe, it wouldn’t be happy until I was totally empty.  I filled half way up the very wide and deep metal bowl before it started to ease.  It kept trying to make me do more but there was absolutely not a scrap in there.  Then came that weird euphoria as your body realises it has survived puking without choking.  Phew.  What a fucking nightmare.
Hmmm, I may not finish this even tonight, will this ever get online?
Morning came round and I felt weak (due to no food being in my stomach) and fucking shit.  Absolute pile of wank.  The missus headed off to sort out washing at the launderette due to our washing machine packing up (and it would be the time I go and fucking shit myself and on the bathroom rug, when we have a non-functional washing machine.  I could regal you with my shitting myself tale but it may have to wait).  
I’m missing out quite a few events here but I think I should cut my losses for now or else this could go on forever.
Just had a lovely night walk, saw a few stars, wish I could see the milky way again like I did down at the coast.  Soon, hopefully.  I’m coming up north in January.

Dreams so dark but fleeting, they don’t compare to my waking bliss,
So warm and loved, every embrace firing my soul,
The majesty of the human heart, incomparable in nature,
But a product that only the wonder of nature could birth,
The power that made this incomparable cosmos of infinite wonderment,
A spark of that same glory resides within the human heart,
My mind swims at just taking in the greatness of that inner beauty,
As it lays its spark upon me, I breathe in that wonder,
Give myself to its power and feel born within,
Your embrace, come, let me fall in to it once more.

Hello again everyone,

Well, first things first – I…HAVE…….SLEPT!  Thank fucking be.  2 days and nights and about 3 hours sleep in that time.  Horrific.  Well, I reverted to type last night a little and only slept for 3 hours.  The trouble is I’m suffering from acid efflux during the night where acid flows back up your pipe and in to your windpipe which means you wake up with a start choking, flapping, coughing and stuff.  Which is fucking rubbish, like.  I have shitty ulcers in my gob, chemo scarring coming up on my joints, shitting rusty water….it’s all a bit, well, hard work.  So I treated myself to an Xbox 360 so I can play some first person shooters.  I love FP shooters, great stuff just, err, shooting things and that.

I had the whole family down on Saturday and it was just ace seeing them all.  I do miss them and them all turning up at once felt quite emotional although I didn’t break down crying or owt, I just felt very warm, my family and my wife all around me.  Unfortunately I felt a little bit shite due to lack of sleep and all that.  Typical.  We just chilled round the flat.  The two kids were lovely as usual, the baby was gurgling away and the older one was a little sweetpea, as usual.  He’s such a canny wee thing and apparently he loves visiting me.  He loved the fact I have cola bottles on hand as well as orange jellies, he’s just like his uncle in that respect : )   I got a wee bit tired of them by the end but I just don’t have that knack for kids, which is why I never would have had them myself, way too much patience required, I need my peace and quiet.  But getting hugs from everyone was tremendous, all different types.  The mam type hug from my mam, the massive long bear hugs from my dad (they are my faves, I must say, I could hug him for ages just to feel that almost child like protection), my brother in laws matey brother type hug and those knowing hugs form my sister.  My mam went off to make me a meal but after a bit I just wanted to go through and say it was topper to see her and give her a massive hug for ages and I could feel the tears welling up but I held them back in despite my mam telling me just to cry if I wanted to.

My mams down tomorrow while the missus goes in to work so it will be lovely to have more fussing, as if the missus wasn’t enough!  She runs round after me all the time, for everything and anything.  I try to remember not to take it for granted and thank her whenever I can.  It’s hard not to take it for granted when you’re suffering a bit and feel like everything is going against you a bit.  I have found myself snapping on occasion and immediately have to call her back to apologise as I know straight away that it is wrong and I shouldn’t do it at all when she is the whole thing that has held me together, like so many pieces of knackered machinery with a heart and head located somewhere in the creaking, spluttering parts.

But I’m not doing too bad really.  The shitting is a bit of a problem as it is fully fledged runny shite now so when I get ‘the warning’ I have seconds to get there.  Making it from the lounge to the bathroom, a matter of about a dozens paces, can be a close run thing.  Many crossing of legs have been had but disaster thankfully averted.  Had a rush back from Bromley today but I’m getting quite well practised at being calm under poo pressure so although it was an emergency I was the picture of serenity walking in to the flat before prepping the paper in the bog and sorting out the football supplement to read.

I’m really fucking regretting posting up the letter I sent to the club (Sunderland) on the messageboard.  People keep reminding me of how bad it was (and rightly so) and I feel fucking ridiculous when I read it.  What were you thinking Graeme, you fucking big gimboid nugget?  I was ashamed of the letter to begin with (it was typed in the wee small hours when insomnia had the better of me one day.  It was accordingly shit.  Cringeworthy in the embarrassment stakes) but a little coercion and I go and post it on the fucking board, opening up my ridiculousness to all concerned.  ‘Big bags of cock’ is all I can say to that decision.  Nob’ead that I so often am.

Well, I’ve gone through most of my life cringing at my behaviour so a little more won’t hurt!  It’s minor on my misdemeanour list but still worthy of being added to my huge catalogue of mistakes, outright idiocy and hideous behaviour.  I’d love to tell you all about what a daft fucking cunt I’ve been through my life but I’d be here for fucking ever.  At least I don’t have the drink making me do things that leave me ashamed for, well, ever.

I’ll write a poem tonight.  Go and give everyone close to you a big fucking hug and tell them you love them, or if you aren’t near each other, tell em you miss them.  Speak openly and honestly and show those emotions, they are all we have.

Went through to the hospital in west London yesterday.  I really didn’t feel up to the journey in the morning and was all set for crying off but the missus desperately wanted me to go, and I could see her point so we agreed to make the effort but she would have to help me a fair bit.  I was quite breathless at times but the missus had the morphine in her bag but thankfully I didn’t resort to it.  When we came out of earls court station I was really struggling up the stairs, going very slowly and in a quite obviously pained/laboured way.  A young woman stopped and wanted to make sure I was ok, she was asking where I was going to (I explained hospital) and she was so lovely and warm, she noticed liz stood the other side and asked if we were together, I assured her we were but she continued to fuss, asking how far the hospital was and things, obviously with the idea of helping me there with Liz.  What a wonderful woman, I assured her we were ok and it was just the stairs taking it out of me after a (these days) long journey.  She eventually left after many, many thanks from me.  So nice to see such warm-hearted concern, and for a woman to check on a man, that’s quite something.  That human heart, reaching out.  People awe and appal me in equal measure.  Got to the hospital and got sat down, such sweet relief, I was just in the staff room but I could have curled up on the settee thing and drifted away in blissful peace.  I had my bloods taken and they were shuttled off, they wanted to do a chest X-ray to check I didn’t have fluid on my lungs so I was whisked down almost immediately.  The efficiency of these places.  The film is put on the computer network for the doctors to see upstairs, something the NHS has been spending billions on to try and get working.  And it still doesn’t.  Must be canny hard like, the scale of the task.  Anyway, enough of that, back to the hospital.  A very lovely young woman did m chest X-ray (no stroppy cunts work in these places, they’d be out the door in seconds.)  My oncologist was up to see me in no time, he was flitting round everywhere, downstairs to his out patients and upstairs to the ward.  He was very happy with my bloods, chest X-ray was fine, no fluid, and he said the drugs I’m on can hold it for ‘quite a while’, which was nice to hear.  Arranged to see him again in a couple of weeks and that was that.  Taxi home, I was so fucking relieved to have made it through the day, through all the tube and train and chaos and walking, I could finally stretch out and Liz treated me (more than usual) as I had made the effort mainly for her as I didn’t like to see her upset (she rarely gets upset but just wanted the doctors to see me well and active and get their opinions, which was totally correct, obviously, but I just needed the push).

I had a wonderful night out the other night with people from the board.  It really was topper, everyone is so kind and warm yet they are strangers in essence, apart from what I know of them on the internet, an often poor guide to someones personality.  I only needed one shit during the evening and the toilets are very clean but the door to the trap has a diamond shaped window cut in to it.  What the fuck’s going on there eh?  Anyone walking in to the toilet can just have a skeg at you pushing shit out of your bottom, or worse, wiping your arse.  And being as I’m one who stands when wiping arse it makes me directly visible to anyone walking in.  Thankfully no one did.  Very odd.  But I was bestowed with gifts and cards and countless drinks and snacks, ShoutyBearHead donated 50 quid (long story) which is a wonderful thing to do.  I had some lovely chats with PS and, well, everyone.  So many lovely offers and kindness shown, I felt so…..at home, there.  I had to pop out for air at one point and just went and sat on the village green on a park bench.  It was so serene, late at night, watching the world go by as I had a little chat to God while no one was around.  The night passed on and eventually me and the missus left, a burger on the way home then an early night.  Fucking magic.  I must do it again soon.

I feel so desperately weak at times yet at others I feel absolutely fine, the weakness is a horrid feeling.  I’m not sleeping because of acid reflux so that is really hitting me quite hard, I could really feel I would get huge benefit from some good nights of sleep.  I can but hope.

I’ve always loved Pied Wagtails (the birds), they are so lively and comical, lightning fast but with that wagging tail, they do make me chuckle.  I watched the local Jay for a bit today. 

"Well here goes; hello to the smb and all blog readers. I too, as Graemes sister, like many of you, have been lurking on his blog for a while now, but as his big sis have felt like I’m sneaking into his room to read his diaries (even though he’s assured me he’s fine about it). Don’t really know where to start, but best place is probably how honoured I felt this afternoon when he asked me to do an entry on his blog. I have wanted to comment so many times but didn’t want to invade his ‘space’, plus I don’t have the right kind of email address to register and am too technically inadequate to work it out. There’s 2 years and 9 months between me and bruv and there’s only the two of us. He has been my best pal and at times worst enemy growing up. I asked his permission before starting this, to recall some funny stories, as my special times with him have always involved a bloody good laugh, either at the time or later. I was trying to think of my first memory of us and I came up with the time he fell and split his head (or maybe chin) on the tv stand requiring stitches. It’s either that or making our cat at the time, Herbert, dance to top of the pops, I seem to remember a Cliff Richard ditty being at No.1. Graeme as a little boy was full of mischief, a jolly little thing who would share anything. I, on the other hand was a bit moody and tight as a gnat’s chuff; I remember mam giving us  packs of jellies and I had to divide them EXACTLY evenly where Graeme couldn’t give 2 hoots. Other fab memories include my love of picking scabs and Graeme’s lack of enthusiasm for this past time, so I used to offer to pay him 20p to get my hands on them (aren’t kids gross?). Graeme also used to get obsessed with ‘topics’, I remember him knowing everything there was to know about dinosaurs, birds (the feathered variety) and later military aircraft. This obsession endured and his bedroom looked like the worst blitz in history, airfix models hanging from every piece of available ceiling. This led to him joining Seaburn air cadets. Me and mam would pick him up with Tess our black Labrador. Tess used to go ballistic, barking when they raised (or lowered?) the flag at the end. Every week Graeme always would come to the car, mad that we’d wound the windows down so he could hear the incessant barking, but all would be forgotten as we headed off to Whitburn chippy for a bag of chips each (always eaten in the car, not the same if you took them indoors). As we reached the heady hormonal heights of adolescence we despised each other much of the time (as with all teenage siblings). I particularly remember 2 incidents, me snogging someone on holiday in France and my 11 year old brother following me shouting ‘what you doing?’ The second incident was me catching him at about the same age having a good old fumble (and not in that comforting way he describes, this was the real I am) in the living room to Journey To The Bottom Of The Sea (yes the black and white 60’s program, ask him not me!). About 3 years later my mam also caught him in the act and came to me distraught that he was at ‘that’ at only 14! Both incidents would have been ideal ammunition, but that sibling bond meant neither of us let on to mam or dad…til now!

As we grew older we both discovered drink and the opposite sex and had a good few years as drinking buddies which also included Graeme pulling most of my mates (he’s a good looking bugger). I remember meeting my now husband Chris age 20 and him and Graeme bonding immediately over all things geeky; Star Wars, Star Trek (yawn) but at least they could entertain each other! Chris and I worked in Spain for the summer of 1996 and Graeme came out for a holiday, we had a fab time together going all over while Chris was at work. However Graeme had too much Guinness one night sang radiohead all the way home and puked steak pie and Guinness all over the flat, leaving sis to clean up. Really I could ramble on forever my memories are so vivid and comforting. Throughout this battle that has really kept me going, I absolutely adore my little brother and in that big sister way, wish I could have protected him from this dreadful disease. It has been an unreal experience for all the family, there are times I still can’t believe this is really happening to us, but it is and ultimately it’s Graeme having to deal with it. He is so brave in his philosophical approach with his sense of humour intact. I am unbelievably proud of him and have had some fantastic chats over the last few months, bringing us a closeness I’m sure not many siblings share. I am devastated at the thought of losing him physically but I absolutely know this is not the end (and I haven’t been watching too much Colin Fry to believe this!). My biggest regret is that his nephews will have little memory of him and his fight. He is their only uncle and yesterdays blog will be the best gift they will ever receive.

Before I finish I want to thank all of the smb and readers of his blog, you are amazing and this outlet and the support has been absolutely vital to Graeme (an us), something his family will be eternally grateful for. Honestly I cannot express things as eloquently as my brother but thank you from the bottom of my heart.

All that’s left to say is a personal message to Graeme; I love you so,so much and I know you’ll battle this all the way, I can’t wait to see you with the boys on Saturday, you are the best x"

JUst to be clear, I wasn't wanking at something on  voyage to the bottom of the sea, I merely wanted a wank but didn't want to miss voyage to the bottom of the sea.  Getting caught twice when I wanked on average 10-15 times a day is quite an achievement I thought, I, as mentioned before, even had a wank on a busy coach on the way back from Alton Towers.  Under a kagool.

Today has been grand, lovely day so far.  I struggle to wake properly of a morning which isn’t a pleasant sensation.  Eventually I raised me and the missus in to life to head off for a bit shopping and a walk.  We got to Waitrose which was quite hellish and did a lightning raid of shopping.  Mission accomplished.  Then we picked up a coffee and a hot chocolate and headed to the park.  We sat in the car with the windows open drinking our drinks as I rambled on and on about the nature all around us, the blowing rain, the rustling trees, the lower clouds speeding past as the upper clouds remained static, a plane circling above, high in the blinding light of the sun, far above all this wind and rain, the dog filled with such verve and lust for life as it sprinted ahead of its owner down the tree lined road, as fast as legs would move.  I sit here in awe of all simplicity, the rain dripping down the windows, the wind passing through the naked trees, those beautiful natural sounds.  How I’ll miss sitting amongst the power and serenity of nature, lost in its comforting and terrifying embrace.  We walked through the park, the biting wind knowing at our faces.  I can’t walk as fast as I could, the breathing a struggle, I’m fading, drifting from this world, I hope I don’t leave grasping for breath, panicking.  Squirrels wandered in the cold breeze, wondering where all that warmth of summer has gone.  We walked through the terraces of trees before heading back for a hot drink in the homely, rough and ready golf clubhouse.  Time for a treat, sausage egg and chips with a cup of tea.  Magic.  We held hands and sat amongst the warmth of the café as they played cards next door and drunk their pints, companions enjoying the day together in intimate surroundings, heavenly.

It started to fiercely rain on the way back to the car so we had to quicken the pace and got back rather wet.  We drove home and I stepped straight in to a hot bath to relax and get the warmth back in to my cold bones.  We’ve hugged and stared in to each others eyes, I always lose myself in there, when the tears come I wipe them away, sweeping her hair behind her ears, cupping her face with my dying hands.  God, how I’m drifting, I feel par of some netherworld between, holding to this world as best I can.

Such he