43. Time

Wed 22nd June 2022

MIKE: [goes over to Helen, who examining herself in her compact] Here we are, baby. Ready for action, ready for fun, ready for love, and [checks his watch] it’s only just gone one.

HELEN: Is that the time?

MIKE: No, time is an abstract concept. This is a wristwatch.

So, time for an update. Lots has happened, lots still happening – none of it really any good. ‘Bummer’ as Neil would say.

The new Face Off drug is now part of the biweekly chemo. No allergic reaction, but I have regressed to being a teenager. It causes acne and dry skin at the same time, as well as sensitivity to the sun. I’m on a constant double dose of antibiotics to control it, which certainly helps. It still leaves me with a back, chest, upper arms full of pimply spots and a face of raw nose and, I found after shaving, burst bloody spots. Need to grow the beard back quickly.

I’m now measuring the cancer spread myself. At least 6 lumps are visible or can be felt. They range in size from about 1cm, through golf ball, to getting on for palm size in width. I’ve got my calipers – I’ve now started my records. Scans are only every 3 months, so I may be able to get a more real-time view myself.

Melania Trumps – aka Melena Poos – bloody stools – sorry if you’re eating breakfast. Frequently reoccurring and bad. Goodies EckyThump bad. Black pudding. These are probably part of an explanation for my continually low blood count, breathlessness and regular transfusions. Also the reason for me being sent to A&E again – not that that helped at all. So, investigations into the source are in progress. An endoscopy didn’t show anything significant. So shortly I’ll be swallowing a camera pill. But, unlike the Placebo Special K video, it will be unmanned. And – no I don’t need a net over the toilet to catch it – it will send pictures back wirelessly to a pack I wear for the day.

I should also recount an incident that didn’t help my blood levels. After a regular CT scan at my local hospital my canula used for contrast dye was removed. I bent my elbow on the taped pad and headed to the car and onto the oncology hospital for a transfusion – driving one handed (not really officer). On joining the M25 the pad was soaked in blood – odd. One junction later, joining the A3, blood was running down my elbow onto the seat belt and my clothes.  Driving arm above my head, I found no place to stop, so I pulled off into a village petrol station. There I fished out a clean handkerchief and just managed to avoid requesting the help of a transit driver to tie a torniquet. Arm wedged in the sunroof to keep it above my head I reached the oncology hospital. The staff were more than a little surprised to be receiving a patient covered in blood. I did request an additional half unit of blood, but the bleeding had stopped. No lasting damage.

The first week after chemo is now proving harder. Too exhausted to get out of bed the first few days, then I can manage maybe getting up from bed, sofa or chair for 5 meters as long as there’s support in case of dizziness. Then maybe day 5 I can manage 50m flat or standing in the shower. All down to breathlessness, but it seems not always down just to blood count. After another 5 days I’ve often been able to cover 5 km. Just in time for the next chemo – whoopee.

So, those first 5 days especially, time drags. Torture. Over the last year I’ve exhausted all Netflix and Prime car restoration programmes. Blake’s 7 and The Good Life watched. Star Trek original series started – only Leonard Nimoy is there from episode 1. Box set of 35 Clint films 50% covered. All Marvel/DC movies I hadn’t seen ticked. After 10 episodes, I’m a WW2 in Colour expert. Boring. I sometimes want a time machine to just fast forward the days of inability. Some days I think I’ve found it – sleep. Just sleep, sleep, sleep. That is when I can – discomfort and pain leads to sleepless nights, which leads to a little morphine……..  Then, when I feel OK, I’m often at A&E, blood test, transfusion, scan, camera, etc. Leaves even less time to do stuff.  

Time, then according to Mike in BBC’s The Young Ones, is an abstract concept. BBC Radio 4’s recent guest had a view on our memory of Time. Our memory of time, she suggested, was governed by the number of memorable events in that period. For example, a 12 hour plane journey, although long at the time, seems short on recollection. While a day that starts with meeting friends for a late breakfast, which turns into lunch, followed by an afternoon of sport, then an evening meal and a drunken pub trip, seems in the memory to have taken much longer. Hence many of my uneventful days, in recollection, are short and meaningless. Which may also explain why I find winter turned to summer so quickly.

But hey, despite time pressures, and the British weather, I’ve still, in the last few months, worked on the Buick engine. New valve cover gasket, new water pump, fuel pump blanking plate, new harmonic balancer, restored and painted the various pulleys, installed a one wire alternator, new belts, repaired the fan shroud, new radiator, repaired the fan, tidied the wiring. Maybe that’s the reason for the Hagerty Car of the Night award at the Ace Café classic car evening? Except the bonnet was never opened. So, I carry on, and Vyvyan can express my feelings.