The cancer Diaries – 25,3,16

My first full day of knowing that I’ve still got the cancer and it’s shite. When I was first diagnosed back in September and told that I had a 50/50 chance of survival I thought ‘I can live with that’ it was a bit like Scotland away to someone like Latvia in the World Cup. A good chance of F–king up big time, but, on the other hand, a good chance of a result. After being told that after all that chemo therapy and the hair loss and discomfort that go hand in hand with it, I’ve still got cancer, I just feel a bit deflated. I suppose it could’ve been worse news – being told that I was terminally ill would certainly have been worse. I did know that I still had it – what is more worrying is the pain I get in my legs, which, I hope is arterial and not cancer. I find music is a great comfort – I love listening to my music – I love all kinds – apart from that ‘yo mutha F–ka’ rap music and death metal. In the last couple of weeks I’ve bought CD’s by T Rex, Jeff Beck, Birdy, Katherine Jenkins, Culture Club, The Grateful Dad and Neil Young. Well, that’s it for now – it’s a beautiful day and some retail therapy beckons – the new ‘Birdy’ CD and a Scotsman if there’s a good write up on Johann Cruyff in it. When I was a boy I watched him on TV and immediately after watching him would go outside with my ball and imagine I was him.

The cancer Diaries – 24,3 16

Well, I was hoping that this would be the last cancer Diary on account of me getting the all clear from St Johns today. Unfortunately I didn’t get the all clear – I suppose it could’ve been worse and I might’ve got the auld queer, but, thankfully, I was spared that. If I was being honest I wasn’t really expecting fantastic ‘let’s have a party ‘cos my cancer’s gone’ news. The pain in my under arm and neck was a bit too much to have hoped for that. The Doctor told me that they have to figure out what the best option is – it could be more Chemo therapy, some Radio therapy or some stem cell treatment [ whatever that is]. All I know is that for the next Three to Six Months I’ll have cancer to deal with.

Scud Broons diaries – 21,3,16

I was up at Morrisons yesterday with Davy and Julie – I needed plasters after almost slicing the top of my Thumb off while trying to open a salt container. As we were wandering around the shop there was what looked like a couple in their Fifties with their Two Grand children. The woman was trying to hang on to the fact that she probably passed for ‘no’ bad’ about 25 years ago but her attempt to do so wasn’t very pretty. The man just looked like a Bawbag – he had a red Rangers top on and on the back of it were the words ‘Scottish by birth, British by choice’ and I thought what a F–kin’ wank. It’s bigoted ignorant C–ts like him who helped to stop us getting our Independence. As if that wasn’t enough One of the Grand kids was called Mason and I thought ‘poor wee Bastard, what chance have ye got to grow up with a mind of your own.

The cancer Diaries – 19,3,16

I could be coming to the end of the Cancer Diaries – on Thursday I’ll find out if I’ve got the all clear. Then again, if I do get good news on the cancer side, I’ll still have all this diseased Vascular system to contend with. They told me at the Hospital on Thursday past that I might need another stent – in my leg this time, to keep the Two I already have company. Mind you, last night I survived an hour and a half of Country music on the Telly. I knew Crystal Gayle was going to be on the programme, and Leanne Rimes, singing ‘How do I live’, but, by F–k, it was an ordeal listening to most of it. By the end of it I felt like jumping oot the windie – not before writing a depressing song about it. Had a bit of a panic on yesterday and today when I discovered I was seriously short on Heart Medicine. Got what I thought was all of it yesterday but noticed when I got home I’d not got One of the important Ones. Got sorted today, though.

The Cancer Diaries – 16,3,16.

Well, that’s just over a year since I moved into the flat – and what an eventful year it’s been. I have been so lucky to have had Davy, Chris and Linda constantly looking out for me and being there for me. Friends have been amazing, too and there have been many times over the last year when I have felt like George Bailey at the end of ‘It’s a wonderful life’. I was quite shocked to hear that James Stewart, who played George Bailey in the film was so right wing he made John Wayne seem like Pete Seeger. Anyway, it’s nice to know that people care. Tomorrow I have a visit to the Heart people for some tests and observations and a week later it’s the big One where I will find out if I am clear of the Cancer. My right underarm is still very tender and quite sore at times- that’s where it all started and the scar from the biopsy, although healed, is still visible. I worry sometimes about the cough and hope it’s not Lung Cancer, like Scud senior. Although, he had the cancer everywhere. I think that he had so much cancer in his body that he rented what he didn’t need out to the people in the beds either side of him. Scud senior used to say to me that I took far too much smoke into my lungs with One draw – and I remember thinking at the time, ‘F–k sake, that’s rich coming from the man who smoked 40 a day into his Sixties. Mind you, he was still walking up the Pentlands into his Sixties [sometimes after a night at the Bowling club – sometimes after a night at the Bowling club and a shag with his bit on the side]. Between them, Bunty and Scud had more bits on the side than a fussy bairn’s dinner plate – if they’d spent as much time with each other as they did with other people -they might’ve got on. I’ve wandered off my point – which was the cough. No point worrying, I suppose, until I hear what the Doctor has to say. In just over Three weeks I’ll be Fifty Three – last October 21st, at 2.45am, the doctors and Para medics didn’t think I’d see Ten to Three – so I am just happy to wake up every day.041 (2)

The cancer diaries -15,3,16

Got awfy drunk on Saturday and I don’t know why – half a bottle of Glayva and Two bottles of wine hardly constitutes a binge – but I still managed to wake up on Sunday to discover I’d gone to bed without my Heart attack pyjamas and crashed into my Rubber plant which was lying in bits on the floor. I think alcohol free is the way to go from now on. I’ve stopped smoking and feel quite pleased with myself so not drinking should be a breeze. I really miss a joint, though, and still have a Rastafarian Assam tea- maybe more often than I should. I have the Heart attack monitor people on Thursday and the following week I see the Cancer specialist to find out if what they discovered with the CT scan was scar tissue or more cancer. I have lost a scary amount of teeth since the Chemo. I had a plate with Two falsies on it – now it feels like a dinner set from Downton F–king Abbey. Still – what are you going to choose, Teeth or life ?. Was a wee bit disappointed at the result on Sunday. It was the First time in Thirty years that I’d been to Hampden for a cup final. Strangely, you can get through the turnstiles at Hampden with a scalding cup of Coffee but not a cheeseburger.

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‘The Fifth Tip’ 11,3,16

013 (3)Pumphy was in mourning this week after hearing that one of it’s famous sons had passed away. Legendary record producer, Boabby Thomson, who helped catapult Pumphy band, The Four Tips, to global domination in the Sixties – in fact, he became known as the Fifth Tip – died peacefully at the Pumphy retirement home for record producers who were big in the 60’s. One of the bands most memorable songs, ‘A day in the loft’ [ which has become an anthem for Pigeon fanciers all over the world],was in fact co written by Thomson – the opening line – ‘I fed the Doos today, oh boy’, is classic Thomson. He will also be remembered for his work on the classic album ‘Boabby Thomson’s ugly Tarts club band’ and songs such as ‘Strawberry Bings’ and Elanor Rid bing. ‘He was like a father to me’ said Sir Boabby Thomson – ‘He was nothing but a C–t with me’ said the drummer who was replaced by Bingo starr [ real name Boabby Thomson] before the band hit the big time.