“The band is just fantastic, that is really what I think, Oh, and by
the way, which one's Pink?”
Roger Waters
I’ve been back at work now for a couple of months and its
really not been at all bad. My GP suggested easing my way back into work so she
has written me a “fit note” that suggests I work just three days a week.
Working three days a week really is far more civilised, I tend to ensure I am
more productive to make up for the reduction in hours and I seem to get almost
as much done each week. Once again my employers are being incredibly
understanding. They obviously had to bring in an additional manager to cover
for me whilst I was out, and now that I’m back she’s still taking a lot of the
heaving lifting for me. She’s attending all of the weekly meetings that I used
to, and writing a lot of the reports and managing the teams day to day
activities leaving me free to concentrate on the more strategic aspects of my
role. This plays to my strengths too and its rather nice to have the time away
from meetings to rework and structure the strategy of the large amount of upcoming
work. Nice as it is to be working three days a week, I can’ get away with that indefinitely.
The plan is therefore for me to work part time up until Christmas while I
continue taking my chemotherapy and managing the side effects. After Christmas
my oncologist plans to put me on a chemotherapy break, and I plan to return to
work full time in January. The length of my chemotherapy break will be
dependant on how well I do off the drugs, as soon as the cancer shows any signs
of growing again I will need to go straight back on it. I should however easily
manage three to six months on a break and there’s a possibility I could remain
chemo-free for a year. My target is therefore to remain off the chemotherapy completely
in 2017 and get a full year of work in. That’s my hope at least, and it doesn’t
seem that unreasonable.
For now though I have a series of long weekends (thanks to
my three-day week), which is handy because I have a few things planned as a
result of when I decided I needed to get off my arse and do a few more things a
few months back. It’s also nearly my birthday again and I’m determined to make
a better fist of my 50th than my disastrous 49th. I’ve
therefore got a shit load of fun stuff planned.
First up is one of those posh train journeys with the full
silver service dinner. We board at Swindon, smartly attired and ready for a
days pampering. We’re heading up to York and then on to Castle Howard for a guided
shufty around the old place. Our fellow passengers however don’t seem to have
made much of an effort. Tori is a bit like Lucy Worsley – she takes every opportunity
to dress up in some fancy clothes when she can. We’re served a full English
breakfast as we slowly pull out of Swindon and head North. An endless supply of
cakes, tea, coffee and bucks fizzes appear each time we clear the table and it
seems rude not to try an make the effort to tidy things up a bit. The train plods
along slowly through the Midlands and we are told that there is a fault on the
engine that means we will need to change engines at Derby. The slow progress
means that we will miss our connecting coach to Castle Howard and will have to make
do with an afternoon out in York instead. By the time we arrive at York it
turns out that I’m actually having a pretty bad day and my chemotherapy side
effects seem to be ganging up on me. At York I can make it no further than the
Railway Museum and I have to spend much of the time just sat in the café due to
the amount of pain I am in. We have a roast turkey dinner with all the
trimmings planned for the way home, and I manage to make an attempt on the
turkey before spending the rest of the return journey in the toilet. It’s
rather frustrating to be sat in the toilet all the way home when we’ve booked
such plush and opulent seats in the premier dinning carriage.
Next up is a few more meals to celebrate my upcoming 50th
birthday. We head over to Bath for the day for a look around the Christmas
market and a meal with my friend Colin and his family. The day after that my
Mother comes to visit and takes us for a pub meal in the next village. The day
after that and my friend James has arranged a meal out and a theatre trip in
Southampton. James has arranged for a load of friends from London and
Winchester Skeptics to turn up laden with gifts and we have a lovely meal
followed by a trip to theatre to see Fantastic Mr. Fox. Fortunately, my bowels
are behaving themselves slightly better than they were on the way back from
York so I managed to remain in my seat for the performance. Just.
Our final excursion the following weekend is a trip to Christmas
market in Lille with our friends Lorraine and Anthony. I manage to keep my
bowels under control for most of the weekend affording us enough time to
explore the city and its eating establishments.
When we get home from Lille there is a suspicious looking package
waiting for me on my doorstep. I pick it up and turn it over for clues as I
walk into the house with it. It’s about A3 sized, padded, and has been addressed
by hand. I tear into the package and am completely bemused by the pair of
drumsticks within. The drumsticks have some writing on them and there is also a
hand written card that reads:
“Hi Crispian, My
friend Aoife, who is a friend of Milton asked me to send you a pair of
medicinal drumsticks! Wishing you all the very best, Nick Mason”
 |
| Me proudly displaying my new drumsticks. |
WTF! The drummer from Pink Floyd has personally sent me a
pair of his drumsticks, and wished me all the best. If you have been reading
this blog in it’s entirety you probably may well have picked up a hint as to
the fact that I am a massive Pink Floyd fan. I’ve had some very nice birthday
presents this year but I’m afraid getting a signed pair of drumsticks from Nick
Mason himself eclipses them all.
I’m due to stop taking my chemotherapy on the 28th
December after I’ve seen Doctor Wheater to confirm that it is OK to do so.
After spending an embarrassingly long time on the toilet at my cousin’s house
on Boxing Day morning (We finally made it back home to Cornwall for Christmas
this year), I decide it’s time to pull the plug on the pazopanib. When I see
Dr. Wheater a few days later, he confirms that I am now ready to start my
planned chemotherapy break. I don’t bother letting him know that I actually
stopped two days ago anyway.
After finally having the New Years Eve party that never
actually happened last year, I head back to fulltime employment at the beginning
of January. I can feel the fog of the side effects gently slipping away day by
day and I’m hopeful that 2017 is going to be a big improvement on 2016. I
decide to try and be a bit more active at work and set out on a lunch time walk
to ensure I get a break from the office and a little bit of light exercise. I
track my exercise progress on my new Apple Watch and notice that a brief
forty-five minute stroll through the woods is enough to complete about ¾ of my green
exercise circle. The following day I notice that the exact same walk completes
a little more than ¾ ‘s of my exercise circle. Indeed, each day I seem to be
completing a little bit more of my green circle suggesting that I have had to
put in more energy to complete the exact same walk. By the end of the week I’m
easily completing a full circle and feeling quite breathless at the end of it
too. Things get steadily worse in the second week back at work and I’m now
really struggling to complete my lunchtime walk, and I need five minutes to get
my breathe back after climbing a single flights of stairs too. I ring my oncologist
for a chat and he suggests its far too early for the cancer to start growing
back and that I should visit my GP, get and X-ray, and perhaps a course of
antibiotics just in case I have a chest infection. I visit my GP and she too
seems sure its just a chest infection and prescribes me some antibiotics. Surely
its just an infection and not the cancer aggressively growing back as soon as I
have stopped my chemotherapy treatment?
Notes to readers: The last 3 blogposts have covered a period
between September 2016 and January 2017. During this time things were going
pretty well (apart from the chemotherapy side effects). I want to continue
writing in chronological order and not miss any bits out, however as the last
paragraph alludes to, things started to go down hill quite quickly at the end
of January and have been worse still in the last month. I am hoping that my
health will prevail enough in order to allow me to continue writing and to
bring you completely up to date with my situation. Bear with.
Cheers
As a fellow Pink Floyd fan I am seriously impressed by those drumsticks, what a lovely gesture by Nick Mason. Although I have no significant PF memorabilia, I do however enjoy a daily reminder of Pink Floyd on my cycle ride to work which takes me along Brittania Row in Islington. As I'm sure you know, this is where the band purchased and fitted out their own recording studio, and where they recorded The Wall and other great albums. The building is now converted into apartments (I think) and gives virtually no hint as to its remarkable past.
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