A new year, a new perspective, a new vision - not really

Here I am in 2015 - a year which for just a few months, I didn't expect to see.  I still haven't worked out why I was saved, I still haven't come up with a grand plan for living the rest of my life.  I have cheated over Christmas on diet - but I am still resolved that healthy living is the key to existence.

I'm definitely happier and most alive when doing positive things. Spending time picking holes in planning applications has to be done, but I can feel the stress build when I have to do it.  So far we have managed to keep the hopeful neighbours' ridiculous eco house at bay but they just keep trying.  I am now convinced that I am the only person who really understands the planning history and where we now are with the whole thing - but even that's a challenge and I've had to write it all down so that I don't lose the plot.

My health is good. I do eat well and in the main I avoid processed foods altogether and I ingest things which I know are beneficial.  The most interesting of these recently is the vitamin D which I've obviously been deficient in for many years.  What amazes me - and I apoligise if I've said this before, and often - is how one can be deficient in something for so long and get away with it.  The body - in fact all of nature - is so very clever at making do.  I believe that cancer only finds us when the imbalance is such that the body can no longer "making do".  The research publicised today on that subject claims that cancer is a matter of chance and random mutations.  I reckon there is a lot of luck, but I really cannot believe that you can't influence your chances of either getting it or recovering from it by doing what it is that puts your body into perfect order.

So how will I approach 2015?  Well I'm going to carry on doing what I'm doing as it seems to be working. And having said that, I wish you all a positive and happy year, filled with good vibes and love. 

A light in the encircling gloom

Well you'll be pleased to hear that I've just had another check-up.  This time with a side-kick of the thoracic specialist's.  I shouldn't have actually been back to the hospital until May, but I told my consultant that I'd miss him and a year was a long time, so he booked me in for six months. Despite explaining this to the chap today, he has also booked me in for another check up in six months time too, to be on the safe side.

On top of this, yesterday I had a letter to say that my recent mammogram was also clear.  So even though it's looking a tad gloomy out there, it's sunshine in this household. 

And there's even more good news, the nagging muscular problem that I've had for over a year now, somewhere in the region of upper buttock is well on the mend since I've started doing 15 minutes on the rowing machine every morning.  I know what the problem is as I had it diagnosed: I don't stand or sit straight While trying to do both of those properly has alleviated it a bit, the rowing is actually proving to be just what the doctor and physio didn't order, because they didn't think of it.

Happy days!

Life goes on

Well here I am with the extra check up creeping up on me fast.  I should be clear of hospitals until May next year but having persuaded my consultant that I'd miss him, I'm going back in a couple of weeks for another checkup.

In the meantime I've just had breast cancer screening.  It was part of the normal mammogram routine which comes round every three years.  For me the timing was just right as I've had a bit of breast tenderness recently.  A quick Google revealed that such a thing is not uncommon and in any case it seems to have gone away. But knowing that an X-ray was on the cards has made me feel a bit better and saved me an anxious trip to the GP for reassurance.

I've been quite heartened recently hearing about some of the research that is going on.  This piece of news seems particularly promising.  There's many a drug designed for one purpose that has turned out to be beneficial for another. 

I remain a devotee of Canceractive and Chris Woollams - and if you've stumbled upon this blog because you are seeking knowledge about cancer, I do recommend to take a stroll around the Canceractive web site. If nothing else, understanding what is going on when cancer is diagnosed will empower you - whether you have cancer or whether you are supporting someone else with cancer.

What you don't see

I'm sorry dear readers; it's been a long time since I last posted. Life seems to speed up every day and I have no idea where the three years have gone. It's great looking ahead and planning the distant future again. The days of drips and appointments, of the endless waiting, seem to have happened to someone else long ago.

But what does stay with me all day, every day, is that nagging feeling that I can't quite believe I've made it. I can't quite believe that I'm going to live just like everyone else, until I get old. How this manifests itself is in little sneaky ways. The odd twinge here and there. The sinusitis is a brain tumour, of course it is. The slight constipation, the first sign of colon cancer. Slight indigestion - ah, that's the constriction of my esophagus. It's all quite illogical but it's one of the legacies of having had cancer.

All clear again

Last night I was running on overdrive. Palpitations at one point, a headache - a sure sign of raised blood pressure - occurred and whatever I did I just couldn't find a way of overcoming the anxiousness that was accumulating in advance of my check-up today.

The good news is that the X-ray looks very much like the last one so all's well. My lovely Indian consultant informed me that he now has a professorship and will be returning at regular intervals to his home where he has a visiting teaching post. I was so worried that I'd lose him. I've begun to feel quite fond of him as he's my last connection with that horrendous period when I thought my life was drawing to a close.  It turns out that he'll still be around to see me and despite the fact that really I should now be on once a year check-ups, he says - because I asked - he'll see me again in six months.  Why I should wish to put myself through the anguish of the build up to the appointment I don't know, but I will feel much safer knowing that I don't have to wait another year to know how I'm doing.

So if you're drinking tonight, raise a glass and toast the dear old NHS and all its faults; Canceractive because it has the best possible advice on diet and lifestyle, and life itself - with all its difficulties and disappointments - because being alive is after all what it's all about.

Cheers!

Hello dear reader.  My abject apologies for being away so long.  I think of you often; I resolve to write to you and then the day is gone, it's 1.30 am and I really need to go to bed.  Such is life.

I'm very glad to be able to report that my mum's now fine after her pneumonia scare and that I'm still very much alive though with another checkup creeping ever nearer, just a tad twitchy - as described somewhere in an earlier post.

When I meet people they say: "How are you?"  I tell them that I'm fine and I thank them for their concern.  Then they repeat the question perhaps with a "but" as a prefix.  After having had this happen so many times I've now realised that what they mean is: "OK so you escaped the grim reaper the first time, but with your prognosis we don't really expect you to last that long, so how many little blighters do you now have growing back again?"  The answer is, I have absolutely no idea and in fact I suspect none whatsoever - but time will tell. 

For those who want more information, here's the situation.  I'm due another check-up on Thursday.  They give me an Xray, take a look at it and usually with nothing untoward visible, they book another appointment, currently at six month intervals.

I have had a series of - probably viral - sore throats over the past few months, but I think that could be said for pretty well the whole of the UK population. I have a slightly sore muscle which manifests itself somewhere in the region of the top of my right buttock - which I had checked out; (the muscle not the buttock!)  Blood tests were done just in case it was something more sinister.  Nothing showed and my physiotherapist diagnosed crookedness - crookedness in standing and sitting. She said progress would be slow and it's been several months since but I can now report that things are improving.  Sitting straight and properly is easy.  It's the standing straight I find more difficult because the proper position feels really odd.

I suppose the reason that I was prompted to blog this morning however is something that I've noticed in my hands.  First let me say that what I thought was chemo thumbnail turns out to be (thanks to the lovely lady who stuck up a page on the net about it) simply nervous picking at thumb quicks.  I found a nervous picking at thumb-quicks buddy with exactly the same problem and that prompted me to Google again. Hey presto, a lady who diagnosed herself, stopped picking and took a series of pictures to show recovery and smooth nails when she stopped.  I can confirm she's right and my thumbnails are now in the process of straightening out.

So back to the hands. Well the last few days I have a slight odd sensation - so subtle that it's almost imperceptible - in my fingers.  I had a bit of panic because I thought it might be loss of sensation, but then when I think about my feet, I think they are more sensitive - just slightly. Now I know it's unlikely that the peripheral neuropathy will be reversed, but I'm wondering, just maybe, if my nerve damage is on the mend.  Certainly feet do feel more sensitive, there's no doubt about it.  Fingers crossed.

All other functions - as long as I don't go on a bender with sugar, fat and alcohol - are wonderfully operational. Isn't the human body just amazing? I never cease to be stunned by its ability to withstand what we throw at it.  I do continue with vitamin supplements and a blend of cottage cheese and flax oil each morning, to which I now add half an apple which makes it quite palatable. Most of all I avoid sugar though I have to admit to some recent excesses.  My only regular treat however is a small piece of very dark - as dark as I can get it - chocolate, usually daily.  It is, you understand, purely for medicinal purposes.

Exercise - ah now there's the problem. Not enough.  I resolve that I must do more.

Dear reader, I'm fine.  Do not worry and when you ask: "How are you?" rest assured, I will answer you honestly.

P.S. A steady stream of just-diagnosed cancer patients now beats a path to my door and I either buy for them or urge them to purchase Chris Woollams' Rainbow Diet. Make sure you buy from the authorised source because he updates it as knowledge is gained, and the latest edition is the one to have.

Another hospital food rant

When you are a cancer survivor people come to you for advice. It's flattering. Even thought I concocted my own survival system and I believe that because of that I'm still here,  I don't want to take responsibility for other people. I want them to do their own research and come up with their own pathway.

Apart from anything else, it illegal for me to recommend anything thanks to the 1939 Cancer Act.  Thank goodness for Canceractive - a most wonderful respository of information.  And if you're one of those who has taken photos without make-up and want to make a donation to a cancer charity, why not donate to  Canceractive instead?.

You can imagine my distress when a couple of days ago I received an email from someone whose daughter is fighting cancer. He asked me for suggestions for beneficial foods he could cook (on a tiny stove in the hospital car park!) to supplement the nutrient-deficient diet served by by the NHS. He wrote:

"I am ..... amazed/distraught at the brick wall that the NHS seem to have whenever you mention diet, or food. All emphasis is on bulking up to keep weight up, as opposed to quality of food. "just keep on eating, whatever that is." Mention diet and they all (from consultant, to specialist and nurses and dinner staff /dieticians) go into a collective shut-down, completely 'out-talking' anything you try to say or ask about!"

What is the matter with our health service staff? Why won't they consider diet, nutrients, supplements and the like? Their stance is illogical. 

Rant over.