13 May 2007
To My Friends 7
18 May 2007 : To
My Friends Collated
18th
May 2007
Sorry its taken so long for me to get back on line. Its hard to know what to write and where to start. Not that there isn’t a fair bit to write about but how to describe it and keep it contained into a coherent expression is troublesome. My recovery is simply not as straight forward as I thought it would be. Once the radiation therapy had finished and the little diversion of Easter had passed I expected a slow but steady progress such that my energy and my appetite would increase and I would generally feel better as I increased the amount of work I was able to take on. Well it hasn’t been quite like that.
Physically there have been ups and downs. The effects of the radiation on top of the surgery on my head neck and shoulder has significantly increased the amount of scar tissue. On my shoulder and neck I feel as if I am wearing a sharp tight collar. Its not painful but its like a weight that won’t go away and I am reminded of it every time I move my head. I’ve also developed shingles and several other “patches of funny skin” which always cause me to wonder, “what now?” Perhaps the most worrysome thing is a patch of unstable skin on my scalp above the left ear. This is about 3 inches by two and is variously described by the doctors as ‘actinic keritosis’ or basal cell carcinoma. It is said to be ‘in situ’ and therefore unlikely to spread in the immediate but is also described, more ominously as pre carcinogenic. My surgeon has tried all the regular treatments over the years but without lasting success. Recently she suggested radiation as an alternative to surgery and a skin graft but the oncologist rejected this on the basis that it would involve some radiation on skin that has already been irradiated and this would probably prevent healing leaving an open wound.
One other possibility is another very expensive ointment called Aldara. The trouble is that this is contraindicated where the immune system is compromised which of course mine is. So it seems as if I will be back under the knife some time. Probably have a piece of my bum grafted on to my head. This will confirm all the worst fears of those who say I talk a lot of shit anyway.
Really I am a bit depressed. I suspect that this may well be part of the healing journey anyway. It is pretty boring spending a significant part of each day just doing the things that will keep you alive. Taking pills, looking after your teeth, not that I’ve got many left, exercising, both the whole body and the neck and shoulder, and preparing meals. And this is a real shit because still nothing tastes right. It’s a funny business. Often the taste is there but the texture of the food is all wrong. So I spend a lot of time preparing food that I don’t really want to eat. Recently I’ve been finding fresh fish dreadful and I used to love it.
Alcohol is also a sorry story. Those of you who have had a drink with me over the years will know how I treasured a single malt. I have been known to state emphatically that there’s only one thing to put with good whisky and that’s more good whisky. Well I have to ‘fess up. The inside of my mouth simply will not tolerate anything more than vaguely alcoholic. In my desperation to taste the ‘blessed liquor’ I have been reduced to watering it down by about 3 to 1. The shame is indescribable. I have had to remove my name from the whisky Shop’s list of desirable customers. I hang my head when I walk past the shop door. I mumble and more away from the hearty greetings of former scotch loving fellow travellers. In short I am much reduced.
Any spare time that appears in the day, time when I might do something to maintain the house or the garden is spent sleeping. If I sit down for longer than about 10 minutes I fall asleep and even when I wake perhaps only a few minutes later I still feel tired and lack any motivation to get out of the chair or to tackle anything that requires real effort either physical or mental. I don’t really know how to describe the state of being half alive yet often that is how I feel. Just struggling a bit I think. And in the middle of this I still manage to write up some of the sessions I conduct and often develop some pretty good ideas for teaching sessions. So all is not lost.
Next week Julie and I are going to Sydney for a couple of days and then up to Trinity beach just south of Cairns for a week. We are both looking forward to this a lot. We have had good email discussions with the proprietors of the motel in which we are to stay. Their name is Costello, so that’s a good sign and suggests that they may have a touch of the old Irish in their ancestry somewhere. That should help. Meantime I’ve managed to contact the Muse and turn out one small offering.
Autumn
Still so still
the earth it seems
can hardly bear to breathe.
Yellow and brown leaves
in the final stages of life
cannot find the energy
to drop: instead they sit
waiting, waiting
not yet ready to let go
still so still.
An old man in a chair
sits head upon chest
parchment brown skin
awake yet barely alive
only the eyes move
in response to my greeting:
the heart beats; silent
and life persists into the winter
while the eyes say
movement is relative.
17th May 2007
I’ll write some more soon.
Sorry its taken so long for me to get back on line. Its hard to know what to write and where to start. Not that there isn’t a fair bit to write about but how to describe it and keep it contained into a coherent expression is troublesome. My recovery is simply not as straight forward as I thought it would be. Once the radiation therapy had finished and the little diversion of Easter had passed I expected a slow but steady progress such that my energy and my appetite would increase and I would generally feel better as I increased the amount of work I was able to take on. Well it hasn’t been quite like that.
Physically there have been ups and downs. The effects of the radiation on top of the surgery on my head neck and shoulder has significantly increased the amount of scar tissue. On my shoulder and neck I feel as if I am wearing a sharp tight collar. Its not painful but its like a weight that won’t go away and I am reminded of it every time I move my head. I’ve also developed shingles and several other “patches of funny skin” which always cause me to wonder, “what now?” Perhaps the most worrysome thing is a patch of unstable skin on my scalp above the left ear. This is about 3 inches by two and is variously described by the doctors as ‘actinic keritosis’ or basal cell carcinoma. It is said to be ‘in situ’ and therefore unlikely to spread in the immediate but is also described, more ominously as pre carcinogenic. My surgeon has tried all the regular treatments over the years but without lasting success. Recently she suggested radiation as an alternative to surgery and a skin graft but the oncologist rejected this on the basis that it would involve some radiation on skin that has already been irradiated and this would probably prevent healing leaving an open wound.
One other possibility is another very expensive ointment called Aldara. The trouble is that this is contraindicated where the immune system is compromised which of course mine is. So it seems as if I will be back under the knife some time. Probably have a piece of my bum grafted on to my head. This will confirm all the worst fears of those who say I talk a lot of shit anyway.
Really I am a bit depressed. I suspect that this may well be part of the healing journey anyway. It is pretty boring spending a significant part of each day just doing the things that will keep you alive. Taking pills, looking after your teeth, not that I’ve got many left, exercising, both the whole body and the neck and shoulder, and preparing meals. And this is a real shit because still nothing tastes right. It’s a funny business. Often the taste is there but the texture of the food is all wrong. So I spend a lot of time preparing food that I don’t really want to eat. Recently I’ve been finding fresh fish dreadful and I used to love it.
Alcohol is also a sorry story. Those of you who have had a drink with me over the years will know how I treasured a single malt. I have been known to state emphatically that there’s only one thing to put with good whisky and that’s more good whisky. Well I have to ‘fess up. The inside of my mouth simply will not tolerate anything more than vaguely alcoholic. In my desperation to taste the ‘blessed liquor’ I have been reduced to watering it down by about 3 to 1. The shame is indescribable. I have had to remove my name from the whisky Shop’s list of desirable customers. I hang my head when I walk past the shop door. I mumble and more away from the hearty greetings of former scotch loving fellow travellers. In short I am much reduced.
Any spare time that appears in the day, time when I might do something to maintain the house or the garden is spent sleeping. If I sit down for longer than about 10 minutes I fall asleep and even when I wake perhaps only a few minutes later I still feel tired and lack any motivation to get out of the chair or to tackle anything that requires real effort either physical or mental. I don’t really know how to describe the state of being half alive yet often that is how I feel. Just struggling a bit I think. And in the middle of this I still manage to write up some of the sessions I conduct and often develop some pretty good ideas for teaching sessions. So all is not lost.
Next week Julie and I are going to Sydney for a couple of days and then up to Trinity beach just south of Cairns for a week. We are both looking forward to this a lot. We have had good email discussions with the proprietors of the motel in which we are to stay. Their name is Costello, so that’s a good sign and suggests that they may have a touch of the old Irish in their ancestry somewhere. That should help. Meantime I’ve managed to contact the Muse and turn out one small offering.
Autumn
Still so still
the earth it seems
can hardly bear to breathe.
Yellow and brown leaves
in the final stages of life
cannot find the energy
to drop: instead they sit
waiting, waiting
not yet ready to let go
still so still.
An old man in a chair
sits head upon chest
parchment brown skin
awake yet barely alive
only the eyes move
in response to my greeting:
the heart beats; silent
and life persists into the winter
while the eyes say
movement is relative.
17th May 2007
I’ll write some more soon.
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