I Am Me, Despite Of Thee

16 months in and I have found having Cancer to be the most horrible, relentless, silent, frightening, debilitating experience I could ever imagine, This thing kicks you and your family so hard everyday. It has changed me physically and mentally and its long tentacles have attacked family and friends.

Physically it has taken inches off my height, the steel rods in my back have changed my posture, I was 6 ft 4" and well proportioned before I was diagnosed. I was slightly over weight but nothing dramatic, I liked my reflection in the mirror. I wore speedos on holiday in France less than a month before being diagnosed.

Now my stomach has an 8 inch scar. The skin has been gathered and pulled together before being stitched. I remember jokily pointing out to my surgeon that he could have cut me straighter.
I have a 6 inch scar on my back, I look like I've been driven through by a cutlass wielding maniac, I am an inch or two shorter. My shoulders are hunched protectively, I take 30 tablets a day.
I walk with a stick, I need to sit down every 200 yards as my back pain in incredible.

Me yesterday

Mentally, I am more aggrophobic, I can't bear large groups /parties, busy places. Any new ache or pain could be something devastating which makes me moody and quiet while I convince myself its nothing. I can be difficult to be around, I can be good company.

I dwell on things more than I used to, its not easy being me. I am lifted when my boys are around, they make me laugh, my wife is an amazing person, Emma is the one who is with me all day, everyday and has shared with me the pains and the pleasures of every single day, in hospital, every doctors and hospital appointment, every phantom and real ailment and every good and bad mood I have had. She mops up everything for me, physical as well as mental, she assures me, feeds me, comforts me, towels my legs dry after I come out of the shower (now there is a sight for sore eyes) organises me and the boys. When visitors arrive I think about whether the house is tidy, Emma has already been there, done that. She makes me laugh, she can't sing for toffee. Is half a second off the beat but is the best dancer I have ever seen.
Emma is tactile, I am not. I talk a good game, Emma is more visceral. There is a saying, "you  always hurt the one you love", I think we can at times take the situation out on each other, we have agreed that there is no future other than the one that keeps the family together, I am living with Cancer, I am not dying of Cancer. We are both fighting the realities of  this statement every single day, sometimes alone, other times we can talk to each other.  We have more arguments about what is not said than what is.
Having said that, 21st century living brings extraordinary pressures on healthy individuals, couples, families. How much of what we face on a day to day basis is down to Cancer and how much is down to normal, everyday forces?
All in all, we are more together and more in love than we have ever been. The stakes are high, marriage is precious, you only get one chance at life so take it, shake it and don't let go.

Happily 99 days out of 100 it hasn't broken us. For all Cancer has thrown at me,...

I am still....

 a husband with all my faculties

I still know the entire lyrics to the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. My kids are getting there.

I still have the deluded belief that I am the all time highest goal scorer for Kartiers Football Club.

I still buy stuff and tell my wife it was 25% cheaper. (doesn't everyone?)

I still look forward to the year ahead

I still have beautiful and handsome nephews and nieces who politely still laugh at my jokes and who care what happens to me.

I still look forward to my blog updates.

I am still a proud Dad. I have two wonderfully funny, loving, caring boys. They show me unconditional love everyday. My son's do funny dances to make me laugh.
I see the best and the worst of me in both of them. Watching them learn and grow is the best ticket in town.

I love helping Fred understand his maths homework, usually,  I have needed to Google to understand it, in moments like these we completely connect, as the penny drops simultaneously in both of our heads. We instantly share wide smiles, wild eyes.

My brain melts thinking about all the scenarios that could be played out. I remain dedicated, steadfast, aimed and focussed on the successful one.

Family

I still buy things I instantly regret on Ebay.

I still have the hat that my youngest son Logan, kept on throughout my Kidney removal op and subsequent Pulmonary Embolism, Logan went to school in it, slept in it and only took it off when I was given the all clear.

I still watch the most ridiculously bad television.

All four of us still have a great laugh together. They /  we are amazing people. I couldn't ask for a better, funnier, loving family.

I still believe I can win Selby Rugby Club's next Stars in their Eyes competition.

The dreamer

I still have a loving wider family who would do anything for me at any time. Support me, give me shrewd, at times, hard advice, look after our sons and take their minds off Dad's hospital visits.

I still have the most encouraging, loving, passionate, hell bent, protective, caring wife I could imagine. I would never believe the moments we have shared together would be possible. Some of the tenderest, most heart rending, intimate and beautiful moments, we possibly wouldn't have shared if it wasn't for this hideous, omnipresent beast relentlessly bearing down on us.

My lovely wife

I still have a close group of friends who bring logs for my fire, clean my house when we are away at hospital, care and support me, laugh at my crap jokes, visit me. Wish I wasn't ill.

The last resting place of DB's hair

I still have work colleagues who call me, email me and keep me upto date with work. The company have looked after me throughout this hard time.

I am still the 1996 Burn Cricket Club player of the year.

I still have the most loving mother and father, Ok my Dad passed away in 2003, however he has not died in my eyes, I carry him about in my heart and I always will. He keeps me strong, focussed and ready for the fight. My mum can't bear to be away from me for more than a few days at a time. My mum buys me Long Johns, she brings me lunch from town, she sits next to me when she knows I have been upset and I don't want to talk about it.

Mum and Dad

I still feel I can talk my wife into watching Breaking Bad, The Sopranos and The Wire box sets with me.

I still will not believe I am leaving this Earth any time soon. There is too much to do, my kids need a Dad, my wife a husband, my Mum a son, my brothers and sisters a youngest brother. My in-laws a son. My friends need an unrelentingly sarcastic bas*ard who doesn't like it when he is the butt of the jokes.

Cancer is many things, it is the worst thing that has happened to me, but I have had the most beautiful, fulfilling moments since contracting the disease.
Some of our nurses are incredible, some are visibly tired, overworked and are nagged by patients all day long.
 Some of our Doctor's are brilliant and have a terrific, positive bedside manner. Some are rude, arrogant and a real let down when someone is waiting for life or death news.

Whenever I have had a problem in life, there has always been someone you can turn to when something goes wrong, like your wife, mum or dad, brother or sister,  friend. If it is something more important then you may turn to a Policeman, Fireman, Solicitor,  Doctor. But what if none of these people can help you?  Who do you go to when no one can help you? That's when you panic!

That's when you need faith. I'm not religious but I do believe in faith. The kind of faith I believe in is support from friends and family. It's a visitors positivity, not just in the words they say, but in their eyes. Seeing someone believes you will be ok means everything. You are elated and there stock goes up in your eyes after they have left. Or its a message or email that rouses you out of your negativity, it can be a song lyric or a poem. It can be a survivor story where someone has pulled through against all odds. It can be someone you used to work with, who you haven't seen in 20 years who hears you are unwell and sends a friend request on Facebook.
These are the things that keep you going, keep you alive when the Doctor's aren't able to help you.

When I was healthy, I used to panic when I saw someone who I knew was ill, I would mumble something if cornered as I didn't know what to say, worse, I would dodge them in the street or supermarket, I didn't need the painful scene of me saying the wrong thing, or them getting all emotional,  then there was the hug or not hug situation I had my own life's dramas to have to worry about, I had no room for sick people.

What I will say is that if you can stomach reaching out to someone you know who is ill, by text, email or visit, then it does make a positive difference to the ill person, Even comments on Facebook and Twitter are welcome. It makes them think of you positively.  It makes them believe. It makes you feel better. Head in the sand stuff is no good for anybody.