DUG BISCUITS 5,8,2017

Ah was discussing Dug Biscuits wi Chrissie B last week and we both came to the conclusion that it’s cruelty. Ah don’t think that at any point in History, Beagles, who were riddled wi’ cancer, got together and thought, ‘how can we make ourselves even more miserable ? Oh, we’ll hint to the humans that we’re sick of eating the stuff that’s been quite a help to us throughout our evolution and we’ll start eating stuff that looks and tastes awfy’. Not being an expert on Dugs, ah could’ny say if it tastes awfy but, for Thirteen years, the Broons had Ben the Dug and he never got dried food. Ah had ma own wee Dug, Nip and he never had dry food in his short life, before the daft wee C–t got run over. Ah had Trixie the Jock Russell for a week. It happened to be the week a poacher friend got me enough Salmon and Venison to last a week, and Trixie never Once looked at the dry food which was provided for her, preferring instead ma baked Salmon and mashed Tatties and ma Venison Casserole.

THE CANCER DIARIES Aug 4th 2017

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Well, this is the First Cancer Diary in almost Two years where I am free of the Cancer and in full remission. Thanks to Sir Digory Lapwing for the remission present. It’s been a journey that my long forgotten ancestor, Vasco the Thomson, would have been proud of. His voyage was the First to circumnavigate the Pumphy Pond, although Vasco himself was fatally and mortally murdered at the Cape of Livi punks Buzzin the glue.  Anyway, that’s been great news but I must say that in all the time I had the Cancer I never felt close to death. I felt awfy and wished that I could’ve gone into a coma until it was all over, but at no time did I ever think ‘Fuck, this is it’. Thoughts like that were reserved for the Heart attack, although, to be honest, I can now only remember the desperate gasping for air, the drenching sweat and a vague recollection of being put on a stretcher thing. The next thing I remember is being sick and those awfy few Seconds where I had to keep it in my mouth until the Nurse got a sick thing for me to be sick into. Which, compared to a couple of Hours before, when I’d ‘died’ for the Second time, was a result. Hopefully, the Vape will help me stop the Baccy habit. That’ll be the thing that gets me if I don’t stop it soon. Mind you, the Cancer I had is a ‘ volatile and unpredictable’ form, so it could come back and make a return to the good ship Scud at anytime. Everyone has been super supportive and I feel like George Bailey at times – ‘The richest man in Town. Thanks to Chrissie B, and Douglas, Davy B and Julie, Linda B and Nick, and Paty and Sam for being the best family I could ever wish to have.  To Hamo and Jim W, Two of my auldest and dearest pals, thanks for all your help and support, not only over the last couple of years, but for ever, really. Last, but not least, thanks to the Boabby Thomson Cancer Bus [ Callum, Dunc and I ] and the Boabby Thomson ‘Cultyur’ Bus [ Callum, Dunc, Annette and I ]. The miles covered, sights seen and laughs had on the Bus have been a huge part of my recovery and my introduction to live classical music, by the Cultyur Bus, has amazing.

The cancer Diaries – April 12,2017

  • 443 (2)  Well, it’s almost Two years since all my troubles with illness began and today seemed to be a nice wee turning point. I was at the Hospital today and Dr McNeil, the Haematologist, said I was looking very well and should be ready for a return to work around July. By F–k, it’s been a Journey- Blood Cancer,Spleen Cancer, a year of Chemo therapy, a month in Hospital for stem cell replacement coupled with a brutal last dose of Chemo and Two blood transfusions as well as the trauma of my skin turning Purple for a week.Throw into the mix, a Heart attack, Two stents, a stroke that I wasn’t aware of having, Laser eye surgery to help me see out my right eye, finding out that my blood circulation through my body in general is about 60% of what it should be and the circulation to my Brain is at 50% on account of Two of the Four arteries which supply it with blood are totally blocked – oh, and a double fracture of the ankle and leg. That completes the story which has been my life over the last Two years. I’m still here, though.While I was waiting foŕ my Bus home from Hospital today there was a probably early teenaged girl with obvious learning disabilities with her mum. They were testing each other with the names of young animals and groups of animals and the girl seemed to greet every one she hadn’t known before with a joy and enthusiasm which made me ashamed. I always feel upset when I see these people – there but for a cruel turn of mother natures hand, they could’ve had a life like ours .I hope she has as happy and contented a life as she can.

Well, that’s me Four Months into remission and I definately feel and look alot better.The all over itch that drove me mad in the beginning has almost gone apart from one area from my right nipple to my belly button which still bugs me.The only area where I feel a bit of pain is my right nipple- although this has been getting better, too.I can walk a fair distance without difficulty and in general feel well.I’m a dope heid, though – a slave to the waccy baccy- that’s what’ll kill me.

A new Dawn-25 Jan 2017

I can honestly say that I’ve finished the darkest chapter,so far, at least, of my own personal story and can see some light at the end of the tunnel. It’s been a hoor of a tunnel to get through, mind you,- Sixteen Months of having bits cut out of me, a year of Chemo therapy, Three separate bouts of cancer, tumours in my spleen, a Heart attack, Two stents, turning purple for a week, a stem cell transplant and the minor irritation of a double fracture to my leg and ankle- oh, not forgetting the precarious state of the arteries supplying blood to my brain, in particular and my whole body,in general- I can’t help thinking that things can only get better. I’m in remission, my hair is growing back and the desperate itch from head to toe that drove me up the wall for almost Four months has gone.Onwards and upwards.

I was thinking the other day about school and how some pupils never missed a day in Four years at High school and still couldn’t read or write at the end of it. All high school taught me was how to punctuate sentences and paragraphs and if it wasn’t for that I’d’ve been better off staying at home for Four years. In Fourth year I actually did stay at home enough times to get me in front of a childrens panel. At one point, being put into care was mentioned and auld Scud let out a laugh and said – ‘for pluggin the skill’?- to which a panel member replied that it was the law. My faither’s reply to that was ‘if that’s the law mr Bumble was right aboot it’. Anyway my attendance improved after that – not that much but enough to stave off incarceration at ‘Schoolag 17’. The point of this story is that unless you’re going to be a prefect and get lots of A and O levels( or whatever it is these days) they should just let you stay at home for Four years.

The cancer Diaries – 26.11.16

It’s now late November, Fifteen months after being diagnosed with the blood cancer and although I feel a bit stronger than I did this time last year I feel as if I’ve not really come forward all that much. My hair still has the Boo Radleigh look and my skin is dry to the point of feeling like it’s on fire. I could say I’ve got a cold sore on my face but it would be more accurate to say I’ve got a face on my cold sore. I’ve been in my bed mostly over the last Fortnight – there’s no effort in going to my bed- everything else seems to be a huge effort. Getting up, having a bath, changing, taking my tablets, making something to eat, answering the phone – I just want to escape into sleep world and not have to think about how abject things are at the moment. Pumphy Juniors are playing well , though. I’ve got a draught excluder at the living room door in the shape of a snake and it’s Yellow and Black- the Pumphy colours.

The stem cell Diaries -Nov 12

It’s been about a Month since I came out of the Festern General and I feel a lot better than I did when I was there – apart from the itching. From the crown of my head to the soles of my feet it’s just a constant scratching – in bed or in the bath. Sometimes I scratch so vigorously that I have to stop myself in case I have another Heart attack – it’s a pain in the arse. My tablets are just bewildering – I don’t know if I’m taking what I should be or not taking what I should be. Davy put some of the anti itchy cream on my back on Thursday and it felt great and I told him it felt great but it would feel better if it was Judith the weather woman.

THE STEM CELL DIARIES

I got home from Hospital last Monday after the longest Four weeks of my life – by Fuck, what an ordeal that was. The first couple of days were fine, then I got the stem cell replacement on the Thursday and Friday. The girl who brought the stem cells in was a beautiful Maria Sharapova sound alike from Poland whose name eludes me. She was talking about her Dog who was ‘turning into man – making love to my bed. ‘ I might have to cut off his Balls’. The stem cells themselves are in bags that go through a drip into your body and they’re brought in a vat of that stuff Walt Disney got frozen in. I got Four bags of the stem cells one day and Three more of the thin, watery Tomato soup the next day. The day after that was the ‘Pearl Harbour’ chemo where I had to fill my mouth with Ice cubes for the Half Hour that I got the chemo. The next week was my ‘Shackleton endurance week’. This was the week when my immune system reverted back to when I was a days old baby. It was F–k— awfy . It seemed to be a Morphine induced world of Hallucinations and pain or discomfort somewhere in my body. Ah didny eat, couldny face the food, so they fed me nutrients on another drip for a few days. Diarrhoea every day exploding oot ma arse like a Billy Cobham drum solo – wiping ma bum after a Billy Cobham drum solo was particularly painful. The Pearl Harbour chemo destroys or affects so much that you’ve got nothing to fight anything apart from your will to live. Your dietary tract is the first to go so that eating, swallowing and passing food is a proper pain in the arse. As if all that wasny enough to get on your wick I came out in this awfy looking skin rash. From my head to my toes I was purple, like an Aubergine or a Blueberry. It’s almost all away now but my skin is so dry now that when I scratch it falls off like powdery snow. Still, every day I was in Hospital ,I always looked upon it as another day that I was getting better – and here I am, a year after a Heart attack and a week after being in hospital for a Month for a life saving procedure. It’s good to be alive.

The cancer Diaries -17,6,16

It looks like another year of chemo at the Festerin’ General after the cancer has now reared its ugly heid in my Spleen. What will happen regarding the stem cell treatment is beyond me at the moment. I think this new chemo will, hopefully, keep me alive so that I can get the stem cell treatment but if I can live through the Sweden Italy game that I watched on Telly today I can live through anything. I was gutted about not being able to go with Davy to France for the Euros. We would’ve been at the Croatia v Turkey match in Paris – Thirty Two years to the day since we were there for the 1984 opening match. It turned out that I could’ve gone with Dave after all – the match was on the Sunday and I had chemo on the Monday and the chemo was cancelled on account of there being new cancer in my spleen. The Boabby Thomson cancer bus has been a great lift – beautiful scenery in the summer time is good medicine.