Tuesday 17th February. They have joined the two consultations together – chemo and radio so that you don’t have to endure the Friday mayhem at the oncology clinic. Much appreciated. Anyway bloods are good. The doc had a good look at my mouth and then I got issued with a new prescription for the rest of my chemo during the five weeks radio session. I dropped my prescription into the pharmacy and then went back downstairs for a bit of mooning. Then back up for my drugs – brilliant – consultation, drugs, backside exposure in less than two hours!
MY old mate Picko has just been on offering me a lift if I need it but he says my arse must be in a black plastic bag on the way home. I’ll have him know that my derriere is pristine before and after treatment.
Bit worried after the messing myself incident the other night – sorry to get back to the nitty gritty – but I have taken some of the anti- diahorrea pills and now I haven’t had a poo for two days. Hope I don’t explode!
Back on LINAC 2. The usual face down arse up and then the radiographer says we are going to take some pictures today. “Bloody hell!” I thought – they are trying to supplement their incomes with a You’ve been Framed Video. I’ll sue Harry Hill! The waiting rooms were fairly quiet – one and two extremely so and three was a bit busy. Don’t know where everyone has gone.
From Wilko Street Park and Ride you can see the Shipstones brewery – a magnificent red brick monument to days gone by. The brewery was taken over – I can’t remember by who, but was then closed. Shippo’s was a notorious Nottingham brew – along with Home Ales. When on song they were both excellent but when they were off they were devastating to the lower end of the alimentary canal. It wasn’t called Shitto’s for nothing! Both those regional brewers have been swallowed up and are now gone which is a terrible shame. When you look at who was operating in Nottingham – Raleigh bikes – it was said that you couldn’t walk around the perimeter of the Raleigh factory in a day. In the days of Alan Sillitoe’s Saturday Night – Sunday morning you could leave on job on a Friday and start another on the Monday. Nottingham’s industrial past is truly amazing. Now long gone.
Anyway, the reason for my digression is that John Pye, auctioneers has taken over Shippo’s brewery and from John Pye another Wilkie legend was born. Many years ago I went to Pye’s auction – it was held on Friday nights at the Cattle Market and I went there to buy a video recorder. There wasn’t much about that night but there was a magnificent twin keyboard organ with its own roll top and bass pedals. Bidding was slow and I managed to get it for a song (Pun intended). Duly loaded up I returned home with my purchase. For the first time in her life Irene was speechless.
We woke on Sunday morning at six o’clock to a sound that can only be described as several jumbo jets taking off. Our four children had decided to write their own symphony, the youngest two crawling over the bass pedals and the two oldest playing the double keyboard. Irene (and our neighbours) were not impressed. Neither was I if the truth be told.
The organ ( which was a magnificent piece of furniture but somewhat redundant as none of us are very musical) was reincarnated in various rooms in the house until it finally went into the garage where Tim and his mate used to play the Close Encounters musical sequence. The responses from the bass pedals WERE spectacular although the neighbours probably didn’t think so. Sadly the damp got in it and it fell to pieces. I am not allowed to go to auctions anymore.
FormerMember
Wednesday 18th and I blotted my copybook. In my kitchen I have a whiteboard which I put most of my appointments on. I call it the “wailing wall” because quite often I miss something and then shout “oh no!” I arrived at the clinic at 1500, “Hello” said the radiographer, “we expected you at 1300. You have mistaken the time with the consultant’s appointment yesterday. I explained that I had been on a speed reading course and when I was younger I could read 750 words a minute with 85% comprehension. Now I can read five words a minute and don’t understand any of them!
Thursday 19th and LINAC 1 had broken down so the appointments were late again although there were only three in front of me. Nothing else much to report really.
Friday 20th – had an appointment with Dr. Lewis regarding my back pain which started before treatment. She was not happy that I had not mentioned it to the radio consultant – mental note – will mention it next Tuesday. Dr. Lewis said she had spoken to the oncology department and they were pleased with my progress. She was impressed with my positive attitude and asked me if my hair was falling out or whether I had shaved it. I told her I shaved it regularly – it is truly the only thin part of me.
Eleanor (granddaughter aged 5) asked me why I have got to go to hospital everyday. Told her that I had to lay on a table and they pulled my pants down and wrote on my bum. She replied “Why haven’t they got any paper?” We all fell about laughing. It reminded of the time when I drew a face on my hand to make a puppet. Eleanor then scribbled on her hands and hid them behind her back telling Irene that “Grandpa had drawed on his self!”
Had to change a couple of appointments because of other commitments. Not much of a problem except on is at 1750 – it will be interesting to see if later appointments are any easier regarding travel and parking.
The pain in the front of my mouth has abated and in spite of Irene’s remarks that I don’t smile I am now able to give a big toothy grin but unless the pain in my left hand jaw abates I am going to need some advice and possible a trip to the dentist.
Peter Cox phoned me just as I was leaving the doctor. Peter is part of the inspiration for this journal as Peter and his wife Joy ran a poetry group in Cotgrave and encouraged me to write. I had to tell him that a mutual friend Chris Muter had collapsed and died last Monday. Chris had written a number of poems that are definitely worth publishing. For a Geordie pit lad his poetry was amazing and there is one of his poems “Red Ribbon” that sends a shiver down my spine every time I read it. If I can find it I will publish it on cancer backup even though it is nothing to do with illness.
My face still feels like it is falling off. I just wish the one behind mine looked like George Clooney or someone. But no – every time I look in the mirror it’s still me. Got the weekend off from radio – as you do. Bill Roberts and Alan Parry have asked me to go for a curry with them on Saturday. We used to regularly before I started treatment. Dare I risk it?
