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It’s 10.30 am on the Good Ship Scud and its been a quiet Day. Apart from the news fae Pumphy about the Shetland Pony being stabbed to death. Who wid dae a thing like that. Stabbin a Tory tae death, maybe, but a Shetland Pony.. A had an awfy pleasant dream last Night involving an ex Girlfriend. As ah mentioned in a previous post, ma dreams always seem tae involve blocked up shitey Lavvies. It was really nice, though. In the dream, ah told Auld Bunty, Chrissie B and Mrs Mabon, that ah’d been re united with her and ah woke up this Morning with a spring in ma step ,as opposed tae Shite on ma Fit. Whenever ah hear a certain James Taylor song it reminds me of her. The line, ‘but I always thought that I’d see you, baby, one more time again. LINDA BRROON ,ah’ll know ye’ve been readin’ ma Shite if ye mention this to me. For anyone else readin’ this ah canny give ye a coconut or a Goldfish if ye guess the song. The weird thing is ah can still remember the lassies phone number. Ah’ve smoked and swallowed mare drugs than a Horse could Shite, ah’ve had a stroke that killed off a bit of ma Brain and ah’ve heidered a Fitba’ Thoosands of times, yet, ah still remember that. Like Adso, in the ‘Name of the Rose’ when ah’m an old man, ma hair White, of all the faces from my past it will be hers that shines most brightly. Unlike Adso, ah knew the girls name. At this point ah’d like to give an Honourable mention to the wonderful Mr Chritopher McGinlay. One of the nicest, cleverest, most entertaining Human beings that you could ever wish tae meet . It was he who First put me onto Umberto Eco and the Name of the Rose Film. After ‘The Thirty Nine steps’ and the 1977 Escorts readers wives Christmas special,it’s ma favourite Book.

Ah’m using that title in Homage to my favourite Film, The private life of Sherlock Holmes. Ah discovered on the Auld you Tube the other Night, deleted scenes from the Film,and ah also watched a great Documentary about the Films Editor. If ah had my last perfect Day of Films before ah dropped, that one, and The Sting, would be up there, Jaws wid be in there. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid – that just counts as one Film, though. The Life of Brian, obviously, goes withoot saying ,like the Aqueduct and the Roads. To kill a Mocking Bird. At this point  ah wid say that the Films couldny go over Twenty Four Hours in duration, otherwise if ye were choosin’ The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and Exodus, ye’d get scunnered after Three Days. Dances with Wolves and Bridge on the River kwai. After the Great Escape and A Night at the Opera that would that would be it. Ah forgot Oliver, Scott of the Antarctic, Double Indemnity, It’s a wonderful Life, Young Frankenstein. F–k  it –  ah’d need aboot Three Days efter aw. Ah’ll come back to this later.

The Boabby Thomson Cancer Bus were discussing vivid dreams last week and whether or not we have any recurring dreams. I mentioned the fact that every dream I had always had a Lavvy pan chock a block wi shite. It happens all the time- ah’m needin a pee but every toilet ah go to is crammed full of Shite and it’s no’ very nice. Also, ma dreams seem to involve a lot of stair and doors. A recurring dream that involves Barbarella wid be nice.

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.

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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.

•   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.

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.