Isn't That What Friends Are For?

There’s a MacMillan Cancer poster displayed at my local underground station which says

“No-one should face cancer alone”. It’s probably been there for a while but it’s only since I was diagnosed and my treatment started that I’ve really noticed it.

Every-time I see the poster I reflect on it but come to the same conclusion that surely anyone going through cancer or any other life challenge doesn't face it alone. I suppose, however, it must happen otherwise there wouldn't be a poster.

What I’m probably struggling with is that in our social media age where we all collect “friends” on Facebook, “connections” on Linkedin, and “followers" on Twitter we can't be alone provided we chose to reach out to them. Surely all these people who are our friends will do what friends do  - provide what support they can.

During one of my early personal challenges - being made redundant for the first time - I was given a good piece of advice - I would find out how many real friends I actually had. This was bang on and every other challenge I’ve had to face since then has brought a similar experience.

Karen & I actually talked about the possibility of no-one reading the blog or responding to it but we felt that it was important to us regardless. As I’ve said before the response and support has been fantastic but with all these challenges there are some “friends” who we haven't heard from yet.

I know a number of people who have contacted us had anguished a bit with it because they didn't know what to say or were worried they would say the wrong thing. I totally understand this but you should let your friend make that call. They'll know how awkward you’ll likely feel but that's nothing compared to what they're going through. In our social media age a simple like, share, comment, text, or two-line e-mail can turn what might be an awkward situation for you in to a great lift for your friend by just knowing you're thinking of them. That’s all they will want & need from you.

Therefore, there should be no reason why anyone should face anything alone. So, if you have a friend who you know is facing a tough time then let me know you’re thinking about them. It's what being a friend is all about. Don’t wait, make excuses or assumptions.

So how’s the treatment going? Well, it’s just been Radiotherapy this week. For those of you, like me, who had no idea what Radiotherapy was, it was described by my consultant as a having a “big X-Ray” everyday but a bit more intense. I mentioned before that it would start to have its moments and they’ve kicked in big style this week The good news is that I’m experiencing all the expected ones. The bad news is that they still make you feel s***e! So what have we had so far?

• Fungal mouth infection - not able to really eat or drink for a couple of days  
• Ulcerated mouth -  makes brushing your teeth absolutely agony
• Dried up saliva glands - have a mouth that constantly feels a bit like the proverbial ……
• Hearing impacted - ringing in the ears & struggling a wee bit with quieter sounds.

Good news is that I’ve got stuff to fix most of them and the hearing should come back after the treatment finishes. 

Have still got some good energy.  Been running a few times and got back to some easy Yoga classes. Banking all these at the moment as things might change over the next few weeks.

Thanks to everyone impressed with the Treatment Calendar. A number of you were disappointed that I didn't “art it up," so here’s something to make up for it!

Craig and Karen

Ain't That Enough?

Well, we finally got things started on 12th May, five weeks after the original cancer diagnosis. It had felt like a lifetime and I was really keen to get the treatment underway, however if you told me how the next 48 hours were to turn out then I might not have been quite so enthusiastic.

In my previous blog, I promised that there would be some bumps on my journey however I hadn't expected them to happen quite so quickly.

Tuesday was a long day. Things kicked with off with a Radiotherapy session around lunchtime and ended around 4 a.m after a 12 hour Chemo bash. It was a daunting experience that, not surprisingly, left me a tad tired and emotional. Afraid the fun didn't stop there and I had another Radiotherapy session at 8 a.m before being finally discharged around 10 a.m. Was I glad to get home!

Things, however, didn’t really improve from there and despite taking my anti-sickness medicine, I started to feel unwell - extreme nausea & indigestion. Not much food or sleep was taken that day

By the Thursday things had got progressively worse, despite being given new anti-sickness medicine. The situation escalated to the point where in early evening I was lying prostrate on the bathroom floor in pain and starting to be violently sick. Karen, rightly, called the Paramedics. For those of you who know me, I can be a bit of a “drama queen” at times but this, I’m afraid, was the real thing.

They recommended getting a GP out rather than a visit to A&E. As I didn't fancy getting in to the back of an ambulance and spending a few hours on a trolley I plumped for the GP. He came out, gave me something for the pain and nausea and I finally fell asleep around midnight.

On Friday, despite being in a “helluva state” we went back up to The Beatson, got my medicine changed and I have since started feeling better.

In comparison, the Radiotherapy, so far, has been a walk in the park but I expect it too will have its moments along the way.

It’s not all been doom and gloom and here’s one of the funnier moments so far.

Picture the scene, a very nice nurse is talking Karen & I through the Chemo process and setting me up for my first IV. I’m listening but probably in the “typical guy” way i.e. not really. Apparently she is reminding me of the importance of my renal system working throughout the process and that it would be monitored by regular collection and analysis of my urine. So basically I had to pee as often as I could for the next 12 hours, collect it in sample bottles and leave for the nurses to do their stuff. I had the added challenge of attempting this whilst being strapped to an IV stand and the toilet being a 30 feet shuffle across the room.

At the end of my first IV I had a sample which I was pretty impressed with. Unfortunately the very nice nurse wasn’t. She told me in no uncertain terms that I had to pass all the fluid that was going in to me before she could even start the Chemo let alone finish it. At this point I said I could have provided the full amount with my first sample, but thought I only had to fill one bottle!   

She then asked me what I did with the rest! I explained that I had stopped mid flow, put the sample bottle down and then carried on peeing, all with one hand! By the look on her face she seemed impressed by this however it which wasn't quite the same look on Karen’s! Before anyone asks, I won’t be applying for the next series of “Britain’s Got Talent”!

The response to the blog has been tremendous. We’ve had tons of support and encouragement from far and wide. Thanks to everybody who has read, commented, and shared. It means a lot to know that people are rooting for us.

I forget, at times, that it’s not all about me and others are also doing some of their own heavy lifting. Karen and our respective families are going through this too, so I’m really touched and appreciative of the support and encouragement they are getting from their friends. I know that it really helps them.

So, all in all, an eventful week but it’s the first one ticked off on the journey, which is great. At no expense whatsoever we have knocked up our own Cancer Calendar to tick off the days until 22nd June. I did suggest doing an artistic pose to brighten it up however Karen, rightly (?) put her foot down so we’re left with my “Blue Peter Special”. Hopefully you’re all impressed!

Thanks

Craig and Karen

And I Ask Myself - "How Did I Get Here?"

Ever imagined being told you’ve got cancer? Me neither but at the beginning of April I was!

Just six weeks earlier I had popped along to my GP thinking I had a boil in my neck and then found myself being fast-forwarded through a series of scans, biopsies, & exploratory operations, to finally  end up sitting in front of a Consultant being told I had tonsil cancer and my boil was in fact a tumour. It all seemed a bit surreal at the time but unfortunately has now become somewhat real.

Apologies, I should have introduced myself. I’m Craig, aged 54, and live with my wife, Karen, in Glasgow’s West End. 

Last year, after a life-time in banking (it certainly felt that way towards the end), I took the opportunity to leave and set up my own business. Karen had done something similar a few years earlier. Having worked for over 30 years for large corporations I wanted, and needed, to do something different. As a couple, our approach to life has very much been “let’s do it now” instead of waiting until “we’ve retired, got enough behind us, or worry about what others might think” sort of stuff. 

So why then have I decided to write a blog about my cancer journey and share it with you?

Well, it’s fair to say we didn't see this one coming and it knocked us for six a bit, especially at the start. We have no experience of cancer amongst friends and family so don’t really know what we’re about to face. We know all about the treatment stuff - 6 weeks of Radiotherapy and Chemotherapy, the side effects, the success rates, etc but don't know how we will be either as individuals or a couple. There’s a bit of trying to capture what we go through — hopefully lots of good, possibly a bit of bad, & likely some funny.

I know I’m not the first or last person to have cancer but hopefully if you can join me on my journey you’ll find my ramblings amusing, interesting and maybe even helpful. Things kick off on 12th May when my treatment starts. I do hope to see you on this road I’m about to travel. It’d be great to have your company.

Craig and Karen