Mr Fat: Thanksgiving

While we in the UK do not celebrate this particular holiday I thought it might be an appropriate time to say a little thanks for all the support, kind thoughts and well wishes I continue to receive from Family and Friends, far and wide. And, for those of you who celebrate Hanukkah too, here's to a happy one of that as well....




I am still keeping not to bad if just lacking in energy all the time and just want to, or rather am, almost permanently asleep. Many would say that's ok coz if he's sleeping, he's not being irritating, unless of course I am farting and snoring when asleep, but then it's only Ishbel and the family who get irritated by that when I'm asleep in bed or on the sofa during a family gathering... but as I am asleep, I don't care.





So, how have I been, well ,as I said, largely fine; had a scan last week and there is no deterioration in my condition as yet and over the last couple of days I have been waking up feeling as if nothing is wrong with me and I could take on the world but by days end I am so knackered and suffering from a sore back I am almost doubled over.  The scan didn't reveal any clues as to why this should be and wee Olivia Chan my wonderful and beautiful Oncologist at Basildon Hospital is reluctant, at this time, to put me back on Chemotherapy after the last time where I was sinking into an abyss of quicksand and so, wants to keep that, along with radiotherapy and whatever else she has in her wee handbag as a reserve.  Oh, just a point of interest, Ishbel came with me yesterday as she thinks Flirting with Dr Chan and Mel and the other nurses may not be conducive to my overall health, in that continued skelps on the back of ma heed fae her, may not knock some sense into me, but would make her feel a whole lot better, sheesh, I jis cannae win......

Anyway, I am to take some steroid tablets to see if that increases my energy levels and I'll probably end up looking like The Hulk or Mr Muscle and of course that will be problematic too if I bulk up and am even bigger than I am now, sheesh glad I will not be required to carry my own coffin at days end ...... but that my friends is a long way away and anyway apparently there is also a candle burning for me in the Cathedral of the Plains too.

It's 28th November today and that means it's two days to my wee bro Johnny's birthday in Coatbridge on St. Andrews Day, I wonder why he was never called Andrew! And three days to December 1st and you know what that means, FUN and GAMES on the official NORAD tracks Santa site before we get to the 24th of the month and I can sit and track Santa on his sleigh with Mollie, Shannon and Lacey Mae who are arriving on 23rd December to spend Christmas with Ishbel and me, oh the excitement is really building to that, especially as Ishbel and I are having so much fun, even if our pockets aren't, while doing the Christmas shopping and NO Jennifer and Mollie I will not be wearing a onsie for Christmas ...... but you may bury me or burn me in it if you like, regardless of what mother says and if you do I want an open casket ........ It's the only time I will be seen in one and Jules, no comment required on that one thank you very much .

Well, that's it for now, sorry to all those blogs and tweets I haven't been visiting I am trying, hush your mouths, I meant trying to visit not trying your patience, sheesh a jis canne win ...

xxxxxxxxxx

Sometimes; but not for me



(c) All cartoons copyright to somebody else 

Mr Fat: Chemotherapy update

Attended Basildon and Thurrock University Hospitals and met with the oncologist on Wednesday Dr Olivia Chan, she is such a sweet we thing and I felt so sorry for her!

I had noticed a couple,they were probably in their late 60's and they were quite small but really handsome, the lady was so frail and needed sticks to walk and they had their, I assumed, twin sons with them who looked to be in their 30's. They had gone in before me and when they came out they all looked totally devastated and the poor woman was struggling unsuccessfully to hold back the tears.

It really broke my heart to see this and put my pathetic whining into perspective and as I said,  poor wee Dr Chan who clearly can be the harbinger of both good and bad news has to feel bad when she has to give the latter.  How do they cope day in and day out discussing, treating and then ultimately sometimes saying you are probably going to die...  It makes you think

When I got in I did mention my observations and asked how she was coping and hoped that she was bearing up under it all too, as it must be a real strain for her at times, she is such a nice wee thing.

Anyway, we got round to discussing me and I told her about my fortnight since phase 2 commenced including one or two symptoms I haven't mentioned to you all which were far to disgusting to publish.

The upshot of this was;

a) She thinks I may have been bleeding internally got a telling off for not phoning
b) My oxygen levels may have dropped dramatically, got a telling off for.....
c) Phase 3 of chemo has been suspended and I have to only take the chemo pills up until Friday of this week and then stop

Dr C is going to arrange some scans and possibly another gastroscopy, have a look at all that, and then possibly go ahead in arranging with Broomfield for the surgery to hack out the offending mass

So, all in all, apart from me being a dickhead, again (before wee Mickey @Mr_Hicks_Fans says it) good news I think. As we really need to get this bugger out, the only downside to that is that I have to start the chemo again, but needs must I suppose.

Finally, can I just say, if you know a Doctor and especially an Oncologist and they are your friends, hell even if they are not, and you know they have to regularly give out bad news to patients and their family;

GIVE THEM A HUG, AND SAY THANKS FOR THEIR DEDICATION 

Mr Fat and the Oncologist

Before I get on to my day with the Oncologist I should mention that I was back at the dreaded Broomfield Hospital for the CPEX test on Monday 10th June.  If you don't know CPEX is where they attach all those electrodes to your body stick a tube in your mouth and sit you on a pedal machine while they monitor all sorts of crap.  I'd tell you what they were actually monitoring if I knew but it seems to be a secret and I can only guess that it's my heart and lung rhythms!

(c) unknown

The Doctor, Dr W, took me in and introduced me to the technician, and then he left us to it.  The technician wired me up going through the procedure, commenting that once wired up I would be sitting on the machine for three minutes while base lines were established and then the test would start with me pedalling until I got to 60 on the counter and that once I got there I was to maintain that rhythm throughout the test.  He went on to state that it would be a gentle pedal until I got to the 'hill' then the pressure on the pedals would steadily increase as I climbed.  'As you get to the top it will get harder, I've done it', says he, 'but don't worry I'll be cheering you on!

Well, all said and done, I never really noticed any change in the pressure on the pedals and I felt no discomfort or breathlessness at any point during the routine.  At the end he called the Dr back in and they started to look and whisper as they looked at the ten or so graphs that had come up on the large screen.  After a few minutes I asked if all was well and, 'Am I fit for surgery?'  There was one blip on one of the graphs that they were both scratching their heads over but again refused to tell me what they thought it might be or if they thought there was a problem, getting ratty now, again...... and he said that they would need to analyse the results.  I asked, well I don't know do I, if that's not what the computer did with all those graphs and 'how long have you been doing this?

Anyway he asked when and who was my next appointment with. I responded that it was with the

(c) Caremed NZ

Oncologist back at Basildon on the 19th. He said that he would have the results by then and that he would make sure that they were sent to Dr C, and the team at Broomfield.  Needless to say when I arrived at the Oncologist yesterday they had no idea what I was talking about and said that they wouldn't necessarily get those results as those tests were for the surgical team and not the oncology team.  Fine, I can accept that but why then would Dr W say that he would ensure that they were available for me if he had no intention of doing so, getting really rat arsed now.  In the meantime I have had two letters from the Cardio department at Broomfields stating that Dr W has referred me for two further tests, one I can turn up any time for and another where an appointment has been given for 9th July .... Now I fullY accept that these folk are trying to mend my diseased riddled body and it's not their fault, did you get that Dr H, not your fault, that I have cancer.  But if you carry out a test and you find something awry then F*****g tell me what the problem is, I WANT TO KNOW..... don't just refer me for further test without explaining what you did or did not discover during the first test to warrant further tests.

So, on to the Oncologist yesterday.  Met with Dr P her registrar who went through a list of questions and how I had been feeling to date and what symptoms were presenting themselves. Had a wee rant about Broomfields but I don't think she was really that interested as it's just 'not cricket' to be showing any interest when a patient is complaining about colleagues.  Anyway after that she disappeared into the next room and Ishbel and I were left sitting there for about 10 minutes, presumably while she briefed Dr C who came whizzing through the door like a woman possessed (not in a bad way) I suspect she had many patients to see and needed to get through us all as quickly as she could...

(c) Iamnotyourdoctor.blogspot.com

So, she explained that I didn't need to have chemo and I could elect to go straight for surgery but results have shown that of the patients who elected to have chemo and then surgery, no numbers given on totals, that in 5% of the cases, the patients lives were extended by a couple of years.  I could sense Ishbel stiffening up at that little nugget as we sat together.  I asked if I was sitting there as her father and presenting the exact same symptoms, what would she recommend but she refused to answer that questing commenting that it was not their role to recommend but to present the facts and that it was for the patient to decided.  I agree but they are the ones with the training and understanding, much more so than the average patient and there is a lot of information and and it is usually all bad, to take in and I think it is a fare question to ask, so I did again and got the same response.

So I was told the possible benefits of chemo, it may shrink the tumour and make it slightly more easier for the surgical team to get at and remove. On the other hand, it may not!

And then the list of possible side affects , that went on and on and the only one I don't need to worry about is the hair loss!  So I signed the consent forms and now am on the circa three week waiting list before I head to Southend Hospital, at least I am getting to see all of South Essex, to start a 63 day cycle at 21 days per treatment cycle of chemotherapy and maybe by then the numpties at Broomfield will have sorted out what the problem is elsewhere with my heart or lungs or flabby belly and be ready to hack away at the offending little bugger - mind you, having said that I feel great today and I think we might be able to get back to normal and cancel all of these annoying wee hospital interludes.

(c) mouthfromthesouth.com

I have mentioned elsewhere about the gagging problem I have as soon as food enters my mouth and I have been 'learning' just to take the tiniest wee nibble and not each much of anything (apart from Crunchie chocolate bars - just to maintain my fuller figure you understand).  Well last night I couldn't be bothered, and you do know how much I like to cook, and decided to get a takeaway instead.  Sweet and Sour chicken for the boss, never varies bless her, and I decided I would just get some noodles in the hope that they would just slide down, ha, wishful thinking.  As soon as the first small forkful hit my mouth and the first noodle began to ooze its way down my throat the gagging reflex kicked in.  It was the worst one so far and I really thought I wasn't going to survive it as I stumbled towards the bathroom, no idea why as I have felt nausea on and off since this thing started but only actually vomited about three times, and as I got to the hall I hurled and a sticky gooey mess went all over the floor, thank gawd for wooden floors, and I think I may have dislodged the tumour, cos I feel great today, but it was a bit of a bummer at the time and poor Ishbel was as white as a ghost, what a fright she got.


But never mind she went back to her sweet and sour and left me to clean up my own mess, nothing disturbs Ishbel too much when she's eating.  I even asked her to sing Soft Kitty to me and was told to bugger off so I never bothered asking her to rub something on my chest, but at least my interweb Bestie Julia R Barrett sang soft Kitty to me via email later on, Ishbel are you reading that, Jules knows how to treat me .....