Cancers Like to party in the body and it's not really an organised party. The wee bastards just party at any open doors. They slide through all the spaces they can. The unwanted guest at new year as much as the welcome addition.
i feel my mask needs to go on Camino now. Maybe get autographs like I did with my ball and collect all the different cancers people have endured. I'm not sure how to celebrate but I think a Guinness is overdue.
My head is still full of the many cancers, dancing the dangerously toxic dandy does around our bodies. I feel I have so much learning and not enough time.
Simon's dad had oesophageal cancer and the late diagnosis was probably the worst aspect. A recent test I was hearing about related to a wee sponge you swallow which is like a sweetie on a string.
In your stomach the outer edges dissolve and you just drag the sponge back out of your stomach up the throat and it collects all the cells it needs along the way.
A simple and ingenious way to collect data in a fairly easy way. Early diagnosis is so important and this could be a bridge to the future
More and more of the tricks in the oncologists armoury relate to getting an early diagnosis to deal with and I applaud them all
I do wonder however who will go into medicine soon. We have bought all the properties like it was monopoly board and now nobody coming through can buy unless they are on over £50k, possibly even £100k joint. Children won't be thinking that way when they decide they want to be an oncologist but careers advice may change.
Careers advice, there's a subject, does it even exist. In my day nobody knew at my school what it was and you were either going to uni, going abroad or getting a job.
Not everyone had the luxury of a schoolboy job at WoodMac. Without doubt this was the best advice I ever got. You had a guaranteed fallback at WoodMac.
Many people nowadays trying to traipse through these post school movements will doubtless see travel as more valuable. We love in a global world where taxation has lost its battle with wealth. I don't see 20 year olds wanting to campaign to restore a failing system. I see them getting on and living.
I think our generation pursued their halcyon days until they were in their 50's and 60's, I think today's lot are different. Distracted for sure by the overpowering social menace of media but also the new normal is created hourly.and is frequently unique to each. Try getting those cats along to a rally.
I'm a wee bit suffering now as the various scars go to work. The throat is really too scratchy for words and I'm sad to say my creams haven't prevented completely the skin cracking on the outside too. I'll keep my fingers crossed but yes it's going to be a long two weeks as the body continues deteriorating to kill off the wee party goers.
I had a boiled egg today. Funny how much pride I still take in that skill my mum taught me 40 years ago. Back then when Deadbeat was in it's prime my mum randomly opened a sandwich shop called the Picnic Basket opposite the pear tree pub. It's still open today so it's well worth a visit if you need some food and you don't fancy the mosque curry. I'm not sure if they still do date and apple or chicken/avocado but in the 80's these were quite revolutionary for the sandwich bars of south Edinburgh. Avocado was more often associated with bathroom suites, dates were old fashioned and Apple was a seed in someone's eye.
My egg opening technique still makes me chuckle. It looks like I've not broken the shell, but it's all in tap, then the rolling. The spoon slides the egg out and there's no shell to worry about as it's all intact. We used to do about 30 a day so we naturally got reasonable at it. A skill someone reading this will doubles think, useless, but I like it and every time it's done in one move I smile and nod to my mum. Good tip, I think as I chuckle mindlessly.
My energy levels are largely because although I can eat, I find it tough. We had a curry last night and after one forkful I lay down and was sleeping for 6 hours. I thought I'd be back up in 15 mins but I was just bushed. The Guinness doubtless helped no end too. One pint was enough and should counter any incoming constipation. I'm going to need a solution for the pain as the interior has blistered and cracked all the way down the throat. It's only going to get worse and talking now really is sore. Luckily I can just post the blog and anyone who wants to know how it's going can check it out and equally those who'd rather not know too much can happily skip the worst. I like that, as a concept it works for me. Ultimately it's just about getting through the next two weeks and hour at a time.
I went outside today and walked around the block. I'm trying to max out at 2000 steps so I don't need much in the way of calories.
I used the tube to put a couple of bottles in and also drank 1-2. It's such a shame when you try and eat a meal. It's such a small child's portion I have it seems pointless even to start, never mind fail to finish. It is, as they say, what it is so whatever gets you through the day is good.
I've been touched by a number of people during this journey and I can't thank them enough, although I have tried. They're the quiet ones who have kept me going, oh and some of the loud ones with marvellous distractions have been superb too. From those just making wry comments regarding the blog to the huge enrichment all people I've met. It's also the support that Jackie's receiving too. It's not easy with her being so ill too but her network has been great.
To be fair with the tinnitus now at ridiculous levels I can't hear, I'm toiling to eat, my skin perishes at will, and I figure it's a good time for a pity party. I'm thinking one pint put me to sleep for a few hours so 2 could give me a 14 hour respite. Yep, Guinness Sunday lunch sounds on the cards.
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