19 March 2019.
I'm back.
OK kids, I've been diagnosed with cancer at the base of the tongue in my throat. Not a good thing, but every medico I've spoken to has been extremely positive and told me it is totally curable with treatment.
I'm not shopping for sympathy, but I'm not much of a talker about private stuff (much to Suzanne's dismay) so I'm writing this the keep family and friends up to date, and save you all a bunch of phone calls and emails. Maybe this will also help out someone who might go through the same thing somewhere down the track. It's always good to get the story from the horse's mouth, even if his tongue is a bit munted. 😃
I'm back everyone. I'm over my "Feeling sorry for myself" episode of the weekend and feeling much better again, thank goodness.
I realise now that I am exhausted and have to manage that, or I'll fall in a heap again. I've never been a big sleeper, once I'm awake, I'm awake, my brain fires up and doesn't stop, so I get up and do things. A change in approach is required.
Last night I was off to bed by 9 pm, and immediately fell into a deep, restful sleep, until midnight. I got up, worked on some things, then went back to bed at 5 am and slept like a log until 7:30! That's a sleep in record for me. When I got up at 7:30 I felt a million times better. I think I might be onto something, I just have to adapt.
Today was an easy one, a quick Radiotherapy session. When I walked in a young trainee introduced herself and asked if it was OK for her to stay and observe. I said of course, everyone has to learn somewhere. Off we go...
I assumed the position and was bolted down to the bench. Then the Radiographers proceeded to explain to the trainee how to do things. Line this up here, make sure that is there, this secured to this, that needs to go to the right a bit. Yes, I was getting tense, but just kept telling myself that it's all OK. After what seemed like forever (probably about two minutes) they left the room. The sound of the "NO ENTRY" gate clicking shut was music to my enclosed little ears. The sound of said gate opening again is still my favourite though, and a few minutes later I'm free and walking out the door feeling pretty happy with myself. I reckon I'm 95% there with this bloody mask thing.
Time for a treatment review with Prof. Sidney. Sidney is quite simply a lovely man. We sat and chatted about how I was coping and had a bit of a laugh. When I told him I was grumpy, he looked at Suzanne with a knowing look in his eye, then, with a little smile, said to me "Simon, we're men, we're always grumpy." He was concerned that I had lost too much weight in the short amount of time I've been receiving treatment. At the hospital I haven't been weighed on the same set of scales twice so I'm keeping an eye on my wight using my home scales. This way I can compare apples to apples. Yes, I've lost a bit over a kilogram (FOR MY FRIENDS: Yes, I know I need to loose about fifteen more, but not right now you bastards). We told Sidney about my food intake, and I told him I think any loss is due to my not eating crap snacks, and not drinking alcohol for the last two weeks or so. He was happy with that, but I know everyone will keep an eye on my weight. It's like reverse Weight Watchers in here.
Talking about food, my sense of taste is shot to pieces. On they way home I asked Suzanne to stop at that large M burger chain. I know it's crap, but at the moment I need bulk calories, and I wanted to see if I could taste it. I reckon I'm only at about 20% taste right now. Bloody Chemo. You don't realise just how good toothpaste tastes until you can't taste it.
Back home at about 2 pm I trailed my new sleep pattern by going to bed for an hour, and got up three hours later. I felt really good. We're onto something here.
Some bittersweet news is that we have sold our caravan, which was home for nearly twelve months when we first moved here. It is an awesome van, but we just didn't have the room for it, and being honest, we probably wouldn't use it. If we go away, we'll go on the bike (or bikes when Suzanne gets hers) and either camp or stay in motels. We're sad to see it go though.
Our van is going to one of our new Cockatooian (do you like that word?) friends, so at least we can visit it. Suzanne and I offered to drop the van off and went over for a recce to the delivery point on Sunday. OH BOY! Me and my big mouth.
Picture this. Dirt road, fairly steep uphill, three tight bends, one easy bend, a driveway angle that is less than 90 degrees to the road, and we'll throw in a very narrow gateway with about 150 mm clearance each side just to make it interesting. All in about 500 meters. I initially thought, yes, it's hard, but I can do that.
We got home, and obviously in my delicate mental state, I started to stress big time about moving the van. Arghhhhh! All I could see was a van jammed in a gateway, blocking the road, and no way out. I think I'd rather face "The mask".
Now here's a nice story. I chickened out with the van move and put a post on Facebook asking if there were any caravan reversing magicians who might be able to help up out. I was overwhelmed by offers of help from our local community. We even had a phone call while we were actually moving the van to see if everything was OK or if we needed some help. I love living here. Thanks guys.
So how did we solve the problem? Meet our friend Nick. Nick manages the caravan park we stayed at, and is also a keen motorcyclist so we immediately hit it off when we met, much to both our wives dismay. Nick drove for an hour, hooked up our van, towed it to it's new home, reversed it into the driveway like it was a 6 x 4 trailer, then drove an hour home. Bloody legend. Thanks Nick. We owe you BIG TIME.
I'm back.
OK kids, I've been diagnosed with cancer at the base of the tongue in my throat. Not a good thing, but every medico I've spoken to has been extremely positive and told me it is totally curable with treatment.
I'm not shopping for sympathy, but I'm not much of a talker about private stuff (much to Suzanne's dismay) so I'm writing this the keep family and friends up to date, and save you all a bunch of phone calls and emails. Maybe this will also help out someone who might go through the same thing somewhere down the track. It's always good to get the story from the horse's mouth, even if his tongue is a bit munted. 😃
I'm back everyone. I'm over my "Feeling sorry for myself" episode of the weekend and feeling much better again, thank goodness.
I realise now that I am exhausted and have to manage that, or I'll fall in a heap again. I've never been a big sleeper, once I'm awake, I'm awake, my brain fires up and doesn't stop, so I get up and do things. A change in approach is required.
Last night I was off to bed by 9 pm, and immediately fell into a deep, restful sleep, until midnight. I got up, worked on some things, then went back to bed at 5 am and slept like a log until 7:30! That's a sleep in record for me. When I got up at 7:30 I felt a million times better. I think I might be onto something, I just have to adapt.
Today was an easy one, a quick Radiotherapy session. When I walked in a young trainee introduced herself and asked if it was OK for her to stay and observe. I said of course, everyone has to learn somewhere. Off we go...
I assumed the position and was bolted down to the bench. Then the Radiographers proceeded to explain to the trainee how to do things. Line this up here, make sure that is there, this secured to this, that needs to go to the right a bit. Yes, I was getting tense, but just kept telling myself that it's all OK. After what seemed like forever (probably about two minutes) they left the room. The sound of the "NO ENTRY" gate clicking shut was music to my enclosed little ears. The sound of said gate opening again is still my favourite though, and a few minutes later I'm free and walking out the door feeling pretty happy with myself. I reckon I'm 95% there with this bloody mask thing.
Time for a treatment review with Prof. Sidney. Sidney is quite simply a lovely man. We sat and chatted about how I was coping and had a bit of a laugh. When I told him I was grumpy, he looked at Suzanne with a knowing look in his eye, then, with a little smile, said to me "Simon, we're men, we're always grumpy." He was concerned that I had lost too much weight in the short amount of time I've been receiving treatment. At the hospital I haven't been weighed on the same set of scales twice so I'm keeping an eye on my wight using my home scales. This way I can compare apples to apples. Yes, I've lost a bit over a kilogram (FOR MY FRIENDS: Yes, I know I need to loose about fifteen more, but not right now you bastards). We told Sidney about my food intake, and I told him I think any loss is due to my not eating crap snacks, and not drinking alcohol for the last two weeks or so. He was happy with that, but I know everyone will keep an eye on my weight. It's like reverse Weight Watchers in here.
Talking about food, my sense of taste is shot to pieces. On they way home I asked Suzanne to stop at that large M burger chain. I know it's crap, but at the moment I need bulk calories, and I wanted to see if I could taste it. I reckon I'm only at about 20% taste right now. Bloody Chemo. You don't realise just how good toothpaste tastes until you can't taste it.
Back home at about 2 pm I trailed my new sleep pattern by going to bed for an hour, and got up three hours later. I felt really good. We're onto something here.
Some bittersweet news is that we have sold our caravan, which was home for nearly twelve months when we first moved here. It is an awesome van, but we just didn't have the room for it, and being honest, we probably wouldn't use it. If we go away, we'll go on the bike (or bikes when Suzanne gets hers) and either camp or stay in motels. We're sad to see it go though.
Our van is going to one of our new Cockatooian (do you like that word?) friends, so at least we can visit it. Suzanne and I offered to drop the van off and went over for a recce to the delivery point on Sunday. OH BOY! Me and my big mouth.
Picture this. Dirt road, fairly steep uphill, three tight bends, one easy bend, a driveway angle that is less than 90 degrees to the road, and we'll throw in a very narrow gateway with about 150 mm clearance each side just to make it interesting. All in about 500 meters. I initially thought, yes, it's hard, but I can do that.
We got home, and obviously in my delicate mental state, I started to stress big time about moving the van. Arghhhhh! All I could see was a van jammed in a gateway, blocking the road, and no way out. I think I'd rather face "The mask".
Now here's a nice story. I chickened out with the van move and put a post on Facebook asking if there were any caravan reversing magicians who might be able to help up out. I was overwhelmed by offers of help from our local community. We even had a phone call while we were actually moving the van to see if everything was OK or if we needed some help. I love living here. Thanks guys.
So how did we solve the problem? Meet our friend Nick. Nick manages the caravan park we stayed at, and is also a keen motorcyclist so we immediately hit it off when we met, much to both our wives dismay. Nick drove for an hour, hooked up our van, towed it to it's new home, reversed it into the driveway like it was a 6 x 4 trailer, then drove an hour home. Bloody legend. Thanks Nick. We owe you BIG TIME.
You thought I was exaggerating when I said he gateway was tight didn't you? Look at Nick's cute little face looking
out the window. Awwwwww.
out the window. Awwwwww.
Tomorrow is a biggie. Oncologist visit, Dietitian visit, Chemo therapy and Radiation therapy. We told Vader and he wagged his tail. He knows he gets to spent the day at Grandma's.
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