Getting there

Pauline dropped me off early morning on Wednesday 15^th for my overnight stay in the Western, I did warn her that she might get a text to pick me up if my blood count was down and they would postpone my chemo but all was fine, I even got a "Well done!", there's been a lot of folk having to delay their treatment but I was full steam ahead. 

No different from last time, loads of fluids first, loads of peeing, and just get on with it.  I was in a room with just one other lady, Carol, she's was quite down when she came in, last time she had chemo she went home with pneumonia and ended up with a hospital stay in her local hospital in Dumfries but after speaking to the Doctor she did perk up, we hit it off and had quite a laugh, even listening to the hospital radio, the nurse laughed at us sitting in bed with our earphones in dancing to "There's a moose loose aboot this hoose!"  It was patient request evening and going by the music selection I think must have been the youngest inmate but they did play Clash of the Ash for me, so all was fine. 

I didn't sleep much, with the fluid bags getting changed through the night and having to get up to go to the loo but I wasn't worried I could catch up with sleep when I got home.  When I left Carol said one of the nicest things, besides the lovely to meet you, we've had a laugh. Her parting words were "I hope I never see you again!"  I replied the same. 

I planned a very quiet weekend, going to the Fling after my last chemo wiped me out for a bit but it was worth it, this time I think my reserves would be a bit lower so I wanted to conserve my strength.  It didn't quite go that way, my cousin contacted me to say my Uncle had had a stroke, Pauline and I went through to Kirkcaldy's Victoria to see him on Friday night, we went along to his house on Saturday afternoon to tidy up, it looked as if there had been a fight, furniture and stuff all over the place, he'd fallen in the kitchen but got himself to the living room where the phone was.  He is my Mother's brother and my Uncle so he does have the fighting genes too.  His speech is ok but his arm isn't, if you have some spare prayers and vibes could you please send them to Brian, you don't know him but you may have seen his face, I think I look like him at the end of 24 hour races.

I felt a bit guilty leaving Pauline to it on Sunday but I was tired and needed to rest, she's already done her fair share of hospital running around and visiting.  On Monday I planned to drive myself over the Western for my radiotherapy but in the morning every time I stood up I went light headed, I was a bit better after my breakfast but I didn't want to drive through, a quick text to Pauline and she'd pick me up no problem.  It was a slow day with delays and we were late back but I rested when I got home.

Tuesday I felt ok , no dizziness so I text Pauline to say I'd be fine to go myself, there are road works on Queensferry Road and it was very slow going, noticed the car temperature going up and up.  Bugger! I pulled over, stuck my hazards on, phone the hospital, they said not to worry, they'll treat me when I get there.  Phoned for a nice RAC man and waited and waited, lucky for me I don't do stress-bunny.   I eventually got to the Western and my treatment, only two hours later!  The nice RAC man said that the fan has seized and I'd get home ok as long as I didn't have to sit in traffic. 

All these things were starting to take its toll and by Wednesday my mouth had gotten very sore and I’m now taking painkillers and another mouthwash which has an anesthetic in it before I eat, I’m not eating too well, in the morning it’s taking me around an hour to get in two Weetabix and a banana, I’m heating the milk too to make it nice and soft after that I’m just having milkshakes, soup, yogurt and ice cream, it’s just too sore to attempt anything else, even a cup of tea is a chore and sore to swallow but I’m still managing to maintain my weight at the minute.  My skin on my neck and face looks sun burnt from the radiotherapy,  it’s itchy and sore where my clothes touch, in the house I’m wearing wide necked t-shirts but outside I have to keep my skin out of the sun, lucky for me I've loads of Buff Scarves.  I thought I should change my name to Rosie Redbeard but Pauline thinks I look more like Bradley Wiggins

I am pleased that I got to half way through the fifth week before things got really tough, just five more radiotherapies to go then things will start to settle down.  They are saying it can take a couple of weeks after the treatment stops before this happens and I’m now thinking that if I’m still in as much pain on the weekend of the Skye Half there is no point going,  but I’m not ruling it out until nearer the time.  If I have to miss it Pauline and I will go another weekend and I’m sure we’ll have a good time and have a run in the Quiraing instead. 

I still have other goals and stuff to look forward to and friends have been very generous and given me goals and offers I’m not going refuse. My head is up and I’m looking ahead, I will get through this.

Hands up, chin down

Over half way.

Today was my sixteenth zap of radiotherapy, fourteen to go.  On Wednesday I have a sleepover in the Western for my second and last chemo.  I’ve been feeling ok, not doing anything really, resting and some gentle pottering about the house, well, nobody dusts my Goblets but me!  Actually, nobody else ever dusts in this house!  My Goblets do look a bit stoory, but they can keep. 

I've been sitting with purpose, now that Mel has a granddaughter, I've dug out my knitting patterns, one wee pink cardi done, a white lacy matinee jacket and matching bonnet done, now I working on a lilac cardi with daisies embroidered up the front, the last time I did these it was for Erin nearly eighteen years ago.

I have deliberately been taking it easy, reserving my strength for the last haul, also I don’t want my blood count to go down, if it does, my treatment will be postponed and I don’t want that. 

Over the last couple of weeks when the doctor looked in my mouth, she could see it looked a bit raw with a couple of ulcers, the radiation causes this, and asked how many painkillers I'm taking.  I answered none, she replied that I would be soon, and when I saw the dietician she said the same.  I still haven’t felt the need to take any but I will when I feel it’s necessary.  They don’t know me or that I have honed my discomfort management skills over nine WHW’s, five 24hour races, around thirty “wee” ultras and over thirty marathons.  Also it’s not the level of pain that matters but the way you think about it.  When running you can’t expect to reach the finish without some physical grief, it’s all part of the adventure.  In 2007 my first thought when I heard that Jane Tomlinson had passed away was “pain is a luxury for the living” and when completing the luxury of a big ultra, the more pain the more alive I have felt, it is a privilege.  The discomfort from my treatment is good, it is all part of the curing process. 

At the start I compared my treatment to running a big ultra and on Friday Pauline said “That’s you coming in Tyndrum.” I totally disagreed, running the WHW isn’t easy but it is loads more fun.   This is different and I'm using all the skills I've learnt through running, like eating when you don’t feel like it.  Eating is a chore and a lot of things now have an awful metallic taste, coffee is ok but tea is only ok if I put sugar in, something I would never normally do, everything has to be soft, but I'm making sure I'm getting all the nutrition I can, if I want my body to be strong it has to be fuelled even if it takes me an hour to eat a bowl of pasta! Soup is a favourite, although I’ve always made my own, I’m also buying cartons of fresh soup for variety, is it just me but when I make a pot of soup there’s usually enough to feed the street. I'm restricted with fruit, it nips a bit, the last time I had a glass of  fresh orange juice it felt and tasted like a mouthful of barbed wire. I was told I would lose weight and it is part of the challenge to prove them wrong.

My treatment should finish on the 31^st May and I have a goal for soon after, I entered the Skye half marathon months ago and it’s on the 8^th of June, just a week after.   I might be cutting it fine but I don’t doubt my determination, I won’t be daft and if I'm not able to do it I won’t but if I can walk/jog it in around three hours or so I will.  I've been going up for it since 1993 and in 2005 it was very special, it took me around two and half hours that day, it was my 100^th half marathon and just seven weeks after I had the brain haemorrhage and hopefully this year will be just as special.

I will look after myself well for the next three weeks; Pete is doing a grand job too.  I want to get to the end in the best shape I can, I'm going for a knock-out in the final round.

Hands up, chin down.

A great day out.

I wasn't running the Fling any more but I didn’t want to miss it so after Gillian had picked up Pauline she got me at 4.00am and we were in Milngavie for 5.00am, I felt ok with not running knowing there was no way it was going to happen.  It was lovely to chat and be hugged, I wanted to wish folk well but with it being busy I didn’t get round everyone.  Pauline registered and got herself organised then it was time for the start.  This year everyone went off together in the biggest herd of ultra -runners I've seen!

Gillian and I waited and watched the start of the relay then headed off to Rowardennan, we were helping with the drop bags.  Mrs Mac was in charge and Alan and Robin had started laying out the bags, it wasn't too long before they were all laid out and more helpers arrived when runners were coming through thick and fast.

Now there is no right or wrong thing for eating in an ultra, it is very much go with what feels right for you but my jaw dropped with variety and quantity.  Fair enough, have a choice of a couple of things if  you're not sure what you might fancy but I thought some folk must have been feeding a legion! After runners had been through and finished with their bags we gathered together all unopened food and placed to the front if anyone fancied something different,  I wasn't really surprised that no fancied the pack with two giant scotch eggs, the large tub of pasta or a whole Soreen loaf!  At least The Wilderness Response Team took all the energy gels to be used later.  Rabbit the Bruce was in charge of Pauline’s drop bag, its contents, a wee Twix and a dinky can of coke.

It was great fun being there, shouting at folk and getting sweaty runner hugs, even modelling the Blizzard Jacket for the Wilderness Response Team (a brilliant bit of kit, and about the size of a couple of slices of bread when vacuum packed.)  

                                         Not sure if it was me or her drop bag Alyson was pleased to see

When there were only a handful of bags left Gillian and I went on Tyndrum for the finish.  I'm sorry I missed Robin, he had headed off to do a bit of support but before he left he gave Julie a wee present to pass on to me, a wee pair of pink boxing gloves, Lee fastened them to the zip on my jacket, they're still there and I think a perfect place to keep them. Thank you Robin. x  (I heard you had a great day too, kissing all the girls at Crainlarich!) 

We began helping Ellen hand out medals, what a view looking down that finishing straight.  Watching and encouraging everyone reach their goal, some looked very painful, some were sprinting, some were an infectious emotional achievement, other's I shouted at to stroll faster! 

Discussing my treatment with Ellen, I wasn't sure I should be hugging and kissing everyone with my immune system being a bit suppressed, but we're family and what a boost I got from all the "Glad to see you out and about!" and "You're looking well."  If I'm a tower of strength it's because you guys are the mortar between the bricks. 

Eventually I think Ellen took pity on Pauline and Gillian standing waiting for me, and I eventually listened when she said “Right you, you've done more than enough, time to go home."  I'd had a brilliant day, I felt ok and I didn't want it to end, so we said out goodbyes and was walking away when Ellen called us back, they were just going to do the prize giving and Pauline got 3rd old dear, Mel got 3rd not so old dear so a wee bonus before we headed home.

I planned a lazy Sunday and had a bit of a lie in but as the day wore on I got even more tired and kept falling asleep watching the telly, I was totally wiped out and on Monday and Tuesday, I asked Pauline to drive me to the Western both days, I felt fine to drive myself on Wednesday, but I still feel tired but it was worth it, thank you all for making my day.

That's nearly the second week of radiotherapy done, my mouth is getting sore and food is starting to taste funny but almost a third done. I do feel more tired than I thought I would at this stage of my treatment, but I’ll just go with the flow and not force anything, this is a six week ultra and one thing I'm good at is my pace judgement, it is going to get a lot tougher but I'm focussed on the finish.  Hands up, chin down.

Slow and steady...

For the  fortnight before I started round two of my treatment I quietly just got on with gathering my strength and getting used to my mouth being a bit different. I can now eat most things albeit slowly, I forgot to mention in my previous posts that when they operated they also had to split my jaw bone for access (it's now got a wee titanium bolt holding it back together) which meant they also removed my bottom front teeth,  so biting into stuff is a bit difficult, luckily with my remaining nine teeth I have one canine tooth and one premolar that still have their opposite numbers meeting them on the left side, which is also the side with a proper bit of tongue which I think helps.  Yaaay, four teeth that work!  Hopefully the couple I've been left with on the right side will help anchor new gnashers when I'm finished treatment and my mouth settles down.   I haven't tried peanuts yet or a nice crunchy salad, I think I'll expend more energy trying to chew that lot than what I'll gain from it!  I didn't lose too much weight when I was in hospital but I'm now back to my fighting weight plus a couple of pounds in store.

I've had a few appointments at Edinburgh's Western General  for CT scans, getting prepared for my treatment and a couple of appointments at my GP's surgery having the dressing changed on the skin graft on my wrist, it's healing nicely but slowly.  Oops, I was out when the dietician came for a home visit, not all my fault, she said she'd come after lunch but arrived at five past twelve, I was home by quarter past.  She came back on Tuesday and is happy with my progress. 

Last Friday was a cracking sunny day and there was nowhere I had to be and with the thought that the next six weeks my routine will be every morning, Monday to Friday, I'll be over to the Western for radiotherapy.  I wasn't wasting the day stuck inside so took myself to the Craigmead car park between East and West Lomond and headed up West Lomond, there were quite a few folk about, not surprising with it being so sunny, there was a big group snaking up the steep path, I was disappointed I wasn't going to get the top to myself, then I frowned at myself for being selfish, it was a group of kids with a couple of adults and nice to see them  enjoying being outside and not spending the last day of their holidays sat in front of the telly with a games console.  On the way back down my legs felt lovely and bouncy and I tried a wee jog only for around a minute, I could feel my jaw jarring a bit so stopped, it was only just over a month since the surgery but it was nice to try.  I'm not going to be daft, my body is using it's resources for recovery and repair and I won't do anything to hinder that but my body isn't used to being a couch potato either so when I got back to the car park I felt fine and wasn't ready to stop so headed up East Lomond , I was out for just short of three hours and it's around eight miles for both hills.  

I've been taking myself over to the Western for my radiotherapy, my appointment time is for 11.00am,so the Bridge isn't busy but I've been leaving in plenty time and getting there early and on both Monday and Tuesday I was in and out before 11.00am, once in position it only takes about ten minutes to be zapped.  Last night I had an overnight stay in the Western for my first skoosh of chemo, except it more like drip.....drip.....drip.....drip..... it took ages.

Pauline took me over for 9.30am.  After the doctor check me over her final words after I told her I'd been up the Lomonds  were "I wish all my patients were as active as you."  (So wheesht you lot that say I should just sit on my bakooky, I'm doing it now, see, a nice balance!)  A cannula was stuck into the back of my hand, then I was send along for my radiotherapy and after I was back I was hooked up to a big bag of fluids just to make sure I was well hydrated, I was drinking plenty too, my urine was to be monitored, I thought they would just want a small sample but no they wanted it all.  So being a girly type I had to place a grey cardboard pan on the pan then pee, I'm not sure about the quality but the quantity reached gold medal standard, twice I thought I was gonna make a waterfall before I stopped!  I pitied the poor nurse that had to carry the sample to be tested, actually no I didn't I just smiled and let her know I'd been.  

The fluids took four hours to go through then a wee bag of steroids then the toxic stuff, now jeezy-peeps it  must be dangerous, the bag was in another bag and the nurse had protective gloves on to hook it up and then she let it drip into me!  (I was also told that when changing the dressing on the skin graft if it is still has weepy bits to bag it twice before disposing it as it would be contaminated!)  The chemo dripped through over another six hours I was asked regularly if I was feeling ok, (I was) then another big bag of fluids which eventually finished around 4.00am.  After the chemo I was told I didn't have to pee any more I hope she just meant in the cardboard potty!  I have never had to get up so often through the night so I didn't sleep too well, this morning I woke feeling like I'd had a late night with a few glasses of wine, not quite hung over but neither bright eyed and bushy tailed, after breakfast and coffee I felt fine if just a bit tired.  I was home by noon after another zap of radiotherapy.  I didn't laze about when I got home I went for the big Tesco shop but I made Pete come with me and I was fine, even walking round Tesco keeps the blood circulating!

Tomorrow I'll take it easy after the last zap of the week, since I'll getting picked up at 4.00am Saturday morning.  I'm not running the Highland Fling any more but Pauline is and Gillian is driving and I'm coming for the fun and to help.  I'll be on duty at Rowardennan, not sure what my job will be but I'll be wearing these babies and they need broken in!  If I hear whimpering...

(Sarah, Andrea says this is your first ultra, you have picked a cracker to start with, you'll be fine, relax, run easy and enjoy.  Hope to see you go through Rowardennan smiling) 

Round Two

I was at the Western General this morning for the pathology results and I am to have radio and chemotherapy, as I said earlier I was prepared for this result.

Okay doky, I now know what’s ahead, that’s been the hard bits really, the unknown from the very beginning on my first appointment. The word ‘may’ appeared as in “This may be sinister.”  To “You ‘may’ need further treatment.” Well, now I can face it head on. It will take six weeks starting on 22^nd April, I’ll have radiotherapy Monday to Friday with the weekends off and for the chemo, one hit on my first day of the radiotherapy with a single night staying in the Western so they can monitor my kidneys and bloods.  It shouldn’t be until around the third week when they hit me with the second and final blast of chemo that I’ll start to feel a bit rough, my mouth will get sore and my neck will feel like it’s sunburnt but that won’t be permanent and there’s a few other minor side effects .  The one thing I’m not liking the sound of is that I’ll end up with a dry mouth and that will be permanent, but keeping a bottle of water on hand definitely beats the alternative!

So the Fling will be around the early part of my treatment, and as long as I feel ok I’ll come up to cheer everyone on, but I’ll be a DNS for the WHW. That is the hard thing to get my head round, but next year will be all the sweeter when I slap my hands on the Leisure Centre’s doors.

I've still got the best support crew in my corner…seconds out…round two...ding ding.

.

Hands up, chin down. COME ON!

The Longest Tunnel.

Don’t worry, I'm not going to give you a scalpel by scalpel account of a medical procedure but this has been the hardest thing I've ever been through and without the support of everyone that cares for me I doubt I would've seen the light at the end so quickly.

Sunday 17^th March Pauline took me through to St John’s Hospital in Livingston, I wasn’t nervous, I haven’t done nerves since my first WHW race in 2003, I was looking at it like doing a big ultra, I knew what was ahead would be hard, and whatever happened I would do my best.

Monday 18^th was the operation, being anaesthetised is not like being asleep, I remember being prepared for the op and then suddenly I was coming round thinking that was quick, except it was twelve hours later. I felt ok, but I was on a morphine drip, my mouth and the right side of my face was numb, I was breathing easy and could wiggle my arms and legs.  This is where my fight started,  getting my bearings on what will be the new normal for me, two thirds of my tongue has been removed and replaced with skin, blood vessels and muscle from my left wrist, my wrist has been covered with a piece of skin from my tummy.  I was in Intensive Care until Tuesday afternoon, having my vital signs checked every hour.  It was reassuring when they stuck an ultra sound gizmo in my gob and I could hear my heart-beat pulsing loud and strong in the transplanted tissue.  I was moved up to a single room in the plastic surgery ward and on Tuesday night Pete and Pauline came to visit, they were really surprise how almost normal I looked, we had been told about the possibility of massive swelling and bruising, and apparently I wasn't too bad, I never saw myself for quite a few days so I just had to take their word for it.  I smiled when Pauline said the stitches up my chin were so small and neat and looked like a little Devil’s Staircase.  (The reason for the scar being zig-zagged is because the eye is drawn to straight lines so when it fades it will hardly be noticeable) I was tired but still fairly bright, I’d only missed one night’s sleep and for an ultra-runner that’s a doddle.  With having a trachea tube I couldn't talk, but when folk asked questions that only require a nod or a shake of the head, and it is amazing what you can say with hand signals and a note pad and pen, it wasn't too hard making myself understood.

   

After another night of being checked hourly, and with the sound of the oxygen pump and feeding pump whirring away and the noise of the ward I had second night with no sleep.  I was warned that the third day was the day where most folk who have gone through this took a dip.  Yep, it was a struggle, not any particular painful thing, that was being controlled by drugs it was the overwhelming everything at once.  Lying on my back for days was just not right, neither was having my left arm bandaged in a big tight dressing from knuckles to elbow, a breathing tube attached to my throat, two drainage tubes in my neck, one in my left arm, a catheter in my bladder and intravenous antibiotics in the back of my right hand.  I felt like a beached octopus.  The room was kept uncomfortably hot to make sure my blood vessels are nice and open. I was lying doing nothing but sweating like I was running a 10k on a summer’s afternoon, my arse was stuck to the damp sheets and my back ached. 

Pauline had plastered the toilet door with photos of my running highlights, West Highland Way and family gatherings.  I found it hard to look at them without doubting my ability of ever being healthy and outside again. But day by day the tubes were removed and by Friday all I had was the feeding tube.  Besides being nil by mouth I was also nil by bum, but Friday was the day that things moved and not just my bowels, I was in my own jammies at last and was able to get out of bed by myself,  I went for a pee around every two hours, not because I needed, it was because I could!  I also managed to sleep for the first time since Monday. 

The tunnel was coming to an end, Pauline and Pete brought in Mel’s iPad that she has generously lent me and I was back in touch via facebook and email. It was such a comfort having all your support and visits, and all the cards and wee presents I’d been sent too, a guardian Angel, a beautiful hummingbird brooch with the words in the card “A wee strong bird that can go very far!”  brought a lump to my throat, and some that had me rolling with laughter, a People’s Friend (yes I did read it, but not the serial stories, I wasn't wanting sucked in like watching an episode of a soap)  the hack saw with the cake.  Knowing I was in the heart of a lot of prayers was a comfort, I embrace all faiths and my uncle who’s  just back from a holiday in India  sent me a little statue of Ganesh, he’s the Hindu god for luck and good fortune, and his belly gets a little rub every day.  Some practical stuff, hand cream, lip balm, note book and pens, some knitting to keep me out of mischief and one thing I’ll never forget, (I still didn't have the go ahead to eat anything with substance,) the first proper food I had in nearly a fortnight, it took me all night to eat it with a spoon, a delicious Scrumptiousness cake!

I was coming on leaps and bounds and started to question some of my treatment, like did I need to be fed through the night? Also, I didn't believe 1700 calories a day was enough me, I was polite but in my mind I smiled and though “Oi don’t you know I have the metabolism of Rampant Lion!”  I also opened my window a crack and what a difference, my room was far more comfortable.  I had a little giggle to myself when three different nurses were checking my vitals said, “That’s better than mine!”

I was to be kept in over the Easter weekend, no bad thing I suppose because if I was let out I would have went to Perth to watch the Anglo-Celtic Plate 100k and 50k races. But I followed the progress on twitter and facebook, not as good as being there but the next best thing available to me. Doctors stopped examining me and on morning rounds just stuck their head round my door just to say Hi and if I needed anything I knew where they were.  

On Tuesday I was allowed home and what a pleasure sleeping in my own bed.  Getting out and about, but I'm being good, no running until the skin graft has healed.  My right shoulder is dodgy with nerve damage, my speech isn't too bad, I am being understood, saying the letters L and R need a lot more practice but I’ll get there.  It is hard though, from the oxters doon I’m in excellent health and chomping at the bit to go for a run but I'm gathering my strength, I still don’t know if I've to get radio or chemotherapy but I'm prepared if I do. On the grand scale of a life time what’s another six weeks of treatment and feeling rough for a wee bit longer. I’ll find out on Monday. 

But before that I've got a great night out ahead on Saturday, a fortieth birthday bash where I’ll be returning a lot of the hugs and love I've been sent.

One more thing, I will not be called a cancer victim or sufferer. I am a cancer survivor! 

Just a few words before I go in.

Once again thank you all for the support; it is overwhelming how you all hold me in your thoughts and prayers.  Dearie me, you’re making me emotional, and I’m not going to cry until it’s over.  It’s not just on my blog or facebook, but emails, private messages, texts and phone calls.  (Mel has lent me her ipad and Pete will bring it in when I’m able to use it, so I’ll be able to keep in touch through facebook and emails.)  I’ve also had some very positive news from three friends, all unconnected and they all know someone who has gone through mouth cancer and they’ve all recovered to be fit and healthy, one is even a runner and they got back to it quickly.  This is reassuring especially after my last health scare.  When I came out of hospital that time the most common reaction I got when folk knew I’d had a brain haemorrhage  said “Oh, I knew someone that had one but they died!” My confidence of reaching the end of the day every time I heard that was not good, but that is now nearly eight years ago and my strength and belief in myself has grown since then and I have achieved so much and I have no doubt I will again.

I never expected this past week to be so debilitating, I think I was just looking at this as a wee procedure in preparation for the surgery, just a stepping stone towards the main event.  Recovering from having the teeth out was ok and I could eat fine as long as I did it slowly.  But the wound in my tummy is still a bit tender, and the most active I've been is to shuffle round Tesco’s, I even made Pete come to push the trolley!  My tummy hasn't felt hungry but I've shovelled the food in, just like racing, little and often, actually not that little.  Full fat milk, hefty milkshakes, loads of cheese, Reese’s Cups, I’d never heard of them before but they were given to me from Pauline’s friend, they’re peanut butter covered in chocolate and have 500 calories per 100g, hot cross buns with slabs of butter, toast with a hefty spreading of peanut butter and strawberry jam,  and Sue’s delicious home baking, that’s just the snacks I've had proper meals and puddings as well.  I had hoped to put on about half a stone but it’s just a measly three pounds!  I can’t understand how I can be so inactive, eat such high fat stuff and put on so little, although I haven’t manage to store a lot of fat at least every muscle fibre is fuelled to the hilt ready for the fight. 

We (Me, Pete and Pauline) were back at St. John’s on Friday to sign consent form and go through the nuts and bolts of the operation (Surgeon’s words not mine) It’s going to take a long time, around twelve hours with three surgeons  working in relay, lucky for me I know how to do ultra!  After seeing the MRI he is going to remove more of my tongue than he first said and there will be nerve damage, some will be permanent, some temporary also the incision will run up my chin and through my lip, he may remove a tooth at the bottom front for access.  Scars fade and I can LIVE with this! 

I can’t say often enough how much your caring words of support mean to me, they are a great comfort, I am honoured to have such a support crew, I am not fighting alone.  Hold me tight in your thoughts and prayers, especially tomorrow evening when I come round, it’s gonna feel weird.

Dave, thank you for my battle mantra.  Hands up, chin down.  I don’t know how many rounds I'm going and I'm not stopping until I've won.  I've got the best people in my corner.   My chin is gonna get quite a skelp, but that ok, I'm strong enough to take it, I’ll stay standing,  I'm not doing Marquis of Queensberry rules though.  Cancer doesn't fight fair so neither will I, the gloves are off and I have a roll of pound coins in each fist. 

COME ON!