Four hundred posts. Wow! I just can’t believe it.
I started this blog as somewhere to get rid of my worst thoughts of either pain or depression during the approach to the chemotherapy (Carboplatin). I was properly struggling with my mind.
I don’t recall ever mentioning to you that for just over a year I had been writing poems — sometimes one a day — but for some reason the heart and soul of writing poetry just ran out of me.
I was empty of rhyme. I was running from time.
This chemo was messing with my creativity big time, I guessed what it was, but I couldn’t figure out what to do about it.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not any good at the poems so don’t ask me for them to look at, but I did put them all on the internet for free. They’re that bad nobody would want them anyway, ha ha.
However, thinking about it three people did ask for a personalised poem, which at the time I thought was touching and scary, but they were loved by the clients so I was happy — and probably because they were free ha ha.
I did have a moment of joy when, for my birthday two years ago, when I received from my youngest a wee book that has the grand title of Dysfunctional Dave’s First 50 Poems.
He had it printed himself — a one-off — and I was truly gobsmacked.
I was well on my way to a year’s worth of poems while I was still at work, and my pals that worked with me were sometimes supportive and other times confused, or found the poems a point of ridicule. It didn’t matter, I was happy they read them.
But the goal for me — not my mates — was one year’s worth. Then I could legitimately create my own book entitled:
365 Poems by Dysfunctional Dave
(A Poem a Day for a Wonderful Year)
Anyway, that didn’t happen, nor did another pal’s idea of setting one to a tune. He kept on and on about it.
Finally, I did write a funny lyric to ABBA’s I Have a Dream all about the cars called Volvo.
But the brain fog and chemo anxieties were growing too strong. I was in no-man’s-land once I heard about the new treatment that would keep me away from work a while.
My head needed something to soothe it and, at that time, I was enjoying my use of the Macmillan Cancer Support website for prostate cancer, helping out newbies to the couple’s disease under the pseudonym Mr Unremarkable.
The strange pseudonym was all due to the first few months of checks and tests on this drug trial I was on that reported I was “medically unremarkable”, which is apparently common in reports. Especially about me ha ha.
So for a couple of years I was Mr U on the Macmillan site, helping myself mainly, while trying to advise others too, about this horrible prostate cancer.
So now, if you put now know about my use of Macmillan’s website, one day I noticed there was a part of this massive site that allowed and had space for blogs.
At this particular time, “blogs” were something I knew nothing about, but when I googled the word I saw that it could sometimes be a diary.
Now although I was not a writer, nor could I spell, I did like the thought of anonymously writing short stories about what happened in my chemo treatment every day, in wee chunks.
This would also be somewhere the family could keep an eye on me, if they wanted to.
This would be a great idea — but how do you write one?
So about eight days before my time off work for my first chemo session, I started blogging after finding out a blog is anything you want it to be.
So I wanted it to be a daily report on my physical statistics:
temperature, weight, blood pressure, hair — how much I had left — and a short diary of events my Darling and I enjoyed or endured.
And so it started.
I am not very creative so couldn’t think of much of a title for the daily blog, but I wanted it easy to read and easy to go back through, so Post 1 was born.
There was, however, a metaphor for this crazy period of five or six months in and out of hospital, and that was a bus.
“Do I get on the bus and return” each day, week or month for tests or chemotherapy — or “do I not get on it?”
‘To hop on or hop off, that is the question?’
There you go — a potted history of the Bus Blog.
I supposed I would stop directly after the chemo was over. That was my initial intention.
But I was enjoying the process and it had helped my mind too, which was what I was initially after anyway.
What I didn’t expect was the friends I met along the way.
Here’s a list of many of them, but if you’re not on there I’m sorry I missed you out.
And if you sit there quietly not wanting to be noticed, that’s fine with me.
I’d prefer to be hidden away too, so nobody can see what I write when it’s dreary or bad.
So to my ‘readers’, I thank you very much.
You have helped me on this slow walk along the prostate pathway…
The generosity of all you readers that have come and gone means there now lies a diary of what I’ve endured inwardly and outwardly.
So I’m here today to say thanks.
The comments and replies boosted me when I was ready to quit, and you readers were with me at every milestone I never expected to endure.
Your messages have touched me and made me cry happy tears knowing how much you care. I care about you too.
I’m in your debt.
So there it is.
The 400th post.
Wowzers!
The only other thing I’d like to say today is that my neighbour contacted the writer on my behalf and yes — she will help.
Also, I texted her last night and, lo and behold, the young writer texted back.
I am over the moon and I hope I don’t pester her too much.
The last thing I want to do is lose someone who could help.
Wish me luck in handwriting an outline for this book.
It might take time away from blogging, but I am not too worried because I’ve got a lot of time on my hands, so I’ll be okay.
I do, however, need a better pen than I’ve got right now. This one’s scratchy and I don’t like it.
But my birthday’s coming up and that’s a great hint to the family. A new pen.
Fantastic.
So sleep well.
Take care and enjoy the long weekend.
