Sticks and stones

Greetings earthlings.

I hope this finds you all well.

Let us hope this year is a better one than last year. It is highly likely it will be, but having a fatalistic attitude has served me well down the years. My expectation levels are always reassuringly low, so nothing comes as a surprise anymore.

I often see disabled people on TV who are doing amazing things and fighting adversity. They are inspirational and often exceeding what we thought was possible.

I don't fit into that "can do" category.

Instead I keep on discovering things I can't do.

For those of you who know me too well, I am a bit retentive. I hate mess and I am constantly tidying up, or more realistically, stuffing drawers and cupboards to give the impression of being tidy.

Anway this brings me on to "Things I cannot do in a wheelchair No.1435." I recently managed to burst a bag of split peas when trying to make a lentil curry.

I learnt that I cannot pick up individual split peas off the floor, either with my hands, or with a reacher. This took me a painfully long time to realise and was accompanied by horrendous industrial language. I spent the rest of the afternoon with the mess on the floor, taunting me, before I decided I'd leave it for my poor wife.

Another thing to add to the "Things I cannot do in a wheelchair" list. Ski-jumping and Ballroom Dancing are not things I'm resentful about not being able to do, but not being able to clean up the kitchen floor seems to have sent me over the edge.

I have been complaining to various medical professionals about a burning sensation in my side. This has gone on for about 3 years and I have been prodded, tapped and had an x-ray in my wheelchair. In the meantime I've been using hot packs, painkillers and oils to relieve the pain, all without much joy.

I was referred to a Gastroenterologist at the Royal Marsden in Chelsea as my stomach has been destroyed by steroids, chemo and radiotherapy and of course I had my mystery pain. I finally got to see him and was sent for tests and scans of all descriptions.

I don't think I've ever had so many weird and wonderful tests. This included a version of Orifice Countdown, where your only options are a big one from the top and a little from the bottom. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, this involves what looks suspiciously like two garden hoses being shoved where they have no right to be. The probe down my throat was especially brutal on the way out, and felt like I was regurgitating a snake.

I now know what it feels like to be a rotisserie chicken.

I was also informed that having x-rays in a wheelchair are pointless so two other hospitals obviously have no idea what they are doing. The Marsden in Chelsea did it properly by laying me flat and found out that I have some pretty serious intestinal blockages.

They followed this up with an ultrasound and found that I also have many many gallstones.

I am also having two Radio-Isotope Nuclear Medicine scans to complete the tests and will be slightly radioactive for a few weeks. The letter says "avoid children for 2 weeks in order to prevent exposing them to harmful radiation." Hopefully I'll get the summer glow.

So hats off to Royal Marsden Chelsea for actually doing a thorough job and I feel like I am getting somewhere. Essentially I am full of c**p and an assortment of stones. Who knew. I'm just sorry it took so long to get the right tests done.

Whilst I am on the topic of missed medical problems, I was also told recently that I have Type 2 Diabetes. All the pin prick tests I have been having when I see the oncologist are not the most effective way of testing for diabetes. My thirst was ridiculous and I was constantly tired so I asked for a proper blood sugar test and it showed very high blood sugar levels. Being on steroids for six years has now given me diabetes. At least that is manageable. The ironic thing is we had almost eliminated processed sugar from our diets ages ago because we watch loads of health-paranoia telly and thought processed sugar was the devil. I was a few years too late it seems.

Apart from the blockages, stones and diabetes all is well. I am hoping that in the next couple of months I'll start to feel better.

Jay is well and has been creating a variety of writing exercises and grammar booklets for her pupils. English grammar is pretty complicated and it appears I have been guessing my way through the English language my whole life. I cannot believe how much 11 year olds are expected to know.

They are in safe hands with Jay as she is determined to help them as much as possible.  Plus drawing dragons once in a while in a while takes their mind off the past perfect tense and how to spell words most adults never use. Nice one government - whoever thought the best way to improve literacy amongst 11 year olds was to try and make it impossible for them to pass exams and be expected to be Dickens needs his or her head examined.

We recently went to a local borough Home Ownership day  after many years of renting our place and I spoke with various mortgage brokers. The first guy thought I was joking, the second was very grave and respectful and the third looked at me like I was mad. It turns out that lenders aren't very keen on the terminal illness thing. I did try and point out that technically I should have been dead 5 years ago, but they weren't impressed.

It looks like I'll have to invent something or design an app for a phone to make any money. I have no idea how to become a tech millionaire.

Have a good summer or winter depending on your hemisphere and I'll keep in touch

Love to you all.
Bruce