Bloody eyelids and good news

3:27 am back on the beloved steroids I feel like John Lennon on LSD ready to record Sgt Pepper – so here we go.

At the moment I look a tad like I have entered a new transgender mode, have attempted the application of a poor choice of burgundy eye-shadow before rushing for my bus to take me to my next appointment at the clinic.

These are my cancer eyes. The red marks you can see on my eyelids appear from time to time to time like semaphore signalling to me ‘don’t get too smug you have cancer’. In fact to be strictly accurate they are probably my amyloidosis eyes. Michael York who also has the disease says he can only take acting parts where he can wear dark glasses as he has the classic panda eyes that’s associated with the disease, a dark shadow all around his eye socket. Mine look worse than they are, cause me next to know discomfort and so far at least have come and gone seemingly without rhyme or reason.

Similar unwelcome and erratic visitors appeared right at the beginning of my treatment. I did not share this before as it seemed a bit gory. Basically I bled – I bled dramatically from a tiny wound right through my pyjamas, by teeth bled copiously like Dracula, I had blood blisters in my mouth, I had blood in my wee and blood from my bottom – a few blood spots above my eyes seemed trivial. Non of it bothered me much and most of the leaking stopped once the treatment go into it’s stride. I have no idea what caused it but it felt like a last desperate bid of some enraged cells to finish me off before my drugs finished them off. Anyway now I look a bit more like Scarlett Johanson  as  my eyeshadow begins to pink out and soften.

I saw my consultant yesterday and the news is all good. My numbers are improving, some quite dramatically such that this may be my last cycle of this chemo as the maximum benefit may have been had. I may then go for a consultation in Leeds  to consider the bone marrow auto-graft. A decision on this is complicated by the Amyloidosis which may make it  a less viable option but it will probably go ahead. I get a new regime of chemo to reduce the cancer to the lowest possible level, then they harvest my stem cells, freeze them down ready to be re grown once the old bone marrow has been destroyed. That’s the drastic bit 3 weeks approx in hospital followed by 6 weeks recovery and have to be very mindful of infection. Still it seems it can produce really good results with long periods of remission lasting years. So I am very cheerful indeed.

I have requested a phased return to work with immediate effect – there will obviously be an interruption for the  auto- graph if it takes place but I don’t want to hang around waiting and my consultant says I am fit enough. So we will have to wait and see on that. I certainly hope that after Christmas I will be able to almost fully re- engage but it won’t involve teaching because of the risk of infectious students coughing all over me.

A returns to Guildhall on Sunday with all his stuff courtesy of M’s wonderful bro – he then goes straight into a gig performing a new musical at ‘The Space.’ He will be living in Stratford in East London with 2 mates. G and A are also moving to their own place in  Norwich with just one other friend – place as yet to be found – I have been privileged to read example work in progress from both of them and M and I were truly knocked out!  M is back teaching and one of her pupils has got in as a singer to ‘Tech’ which is a real feather in the cap for them both.

So a steady return to something like normal is the order of the days ahead.

Ta ra