Atrocity.

"So why weren't you weaned off of them?"

It's a question that pretty much everyone has asked me over the past few days. Friends, family, strangers. In fact, I could go round to my neighbour's house and tell his five-year-old son about the past few days and he'd likely pipe up with the same enquiry. Because it's only bloody common sense you know. Why on earth do my guardian angels stationed at the Oxford Churchill insist on ripping me off steroid dosage WHEN IT CAUSES SO MUCH GOD DAMN GRIEF?

And I'm not talking about a day or two of discomfort here. Readers, I can inform you with the utmost confidence that the last three days have been absolute physical torture. When I signed off my last entry about once again yearning for steroids, it was posted very much with tongue in cheek. But you have no idea what absolute horrors I've had to endure since Wednesday. I mean, how can I put this exactly? ARRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH. OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW. EEAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGH. That about covers it. My legs have been rendered useless. My right arm cannot be moved without the sensation that it might in fact snap off. And I have such abdominal pains that I can't eat a single quaver without feeling like I'm going to have a heart attack. It has truly sucked.

So the good folks at the hospital aren't exactly my favourites right now. But on the plus side, my body finally seems to be adapting to the shock of withdrawal and I'm slowly feeling a lot more human, mostly thanks to two baths a day and copious amounts of 'pro plus'. Oh, and today saw a new addition to the family that has cheered me up no end...



PUPPY.

She's incredible. And not dead, despite what the picture might suggest. Everything you could ever want in a seven week old mut, really. Loves people. Loves to play. Irresistibly cute. She does love to piss everywhere, though, so training will be interesting. And our cat hasn't exactly taken to her kindly... yet. He can just wait till she grows to be bigger than him though. Then we'll see who's swinging his bollocks around giving it large.

So tomorrow will mostly be spent hanging with the new dog. Let's not forget Marble, of course. God rest her soul and all that. It's nice to have a dog who has such a different personality to Marble though. Makes her seem less and less like a replacement.

Less whinging next entry. I promise!

Big love,
Ryan.

Clean as a pro-wrestler...

Something I forgot to mention yesterday which is probably worth mentioning... NO MORE STEROIDS. Well, for quite a while at least. And whilst I'll no doubt be wrestling with the much maligned side affects of suddenly being deprived of them, in a few days I'll have a normal face and perfectly flexible joints to prance around with. Dexamethasone, you have been such a chronic pain in the arse I wish nothing but horrifying forlornness for you and your steroid brethren for at least the rest of time itself. Up yours.

Keep your eyes peeled for some changes to the blog - just design wise. I'm pretty happy with the template but I feel it could do with a bit of spicing up here and there. I've also enlisted my friend James to flex his creative muscles and come up with a super sweet blog header. I've not given him any creative guidance so I'm excited to see what he comes up with. Judging by the stuff I've seen him produce in the past it'll be awesome.

Until next time, when I'll probably be yearning for steroids again.

Big love,
Ryan.

Hair we go again.

It's been a bit of a struggle trying to sit myself down at my desk to get this blog entry down. In fact, just constructing that sentence I made three consecutive typos. Try and guess which words I cocked up. You'd be surprised.

In any case, I'm loaded on Codeine here so you know... try and hang with me on this one.

First off, sorry for the lull in updates. I've been very chipper, and therefore busy, so trying to catch the time to bust out some words has been tricky. I've actually had quite a thriving social life these past couple of weeks despite being jacked to the brim on various chemos, so I have to say I'm pretty pleased with that. As you'd imagine. I haven't gone skydiving or illegal raving or anything, but I've seen plenty of friendly faces and been out and about which is the best thing for me really. It's been absolutely exhausting, as I'll explain later, but being able to do things whilst under such pressure from treatment has really kept my spirits up. So far, so good for delayed intensive then, yes?

There was an unfortunate matter that had to be dealt with today however. And dear reader, I must say it has left me upset and beggared. For today. It was time. To face. THE CLIPPERS.


A sad face doesn't come anywhere near to conveying the sheer abhorrence I felt after going through with this. Don't get me wrong, my hair hadn't evolved to the growing locks I was used to before all this cancer business started up in January, but I still had a great deal on top that I could be proud of. And now I'm back to grade 1. It's July and my head is cold when I fetch the milk in the morning. It's just not cricket.

But fuck it. Hair. It grows back right?

It better. And spare me the jokes of 'it'll grow on you'.

So couple this with a day of being completely spent and it's been a tough one. But that's the price you pay for being such a social butterfly in times of trials and tribulations I suppose. I bought some chinos yesterday as well. Maybe God is punishing me for being such a fashion twat. More likely he's jealous. The chinos are dope.

This week I get a break from treatment which is swell. I've got Keri visiting me on Thursday so naturally I'm insisting she takes me for lunch. She's also promised me guava juice so I'm rather excited. One particular highlight of my hospital stay was when she rocked up to my ward with about six cartons of the stuff. Incredible scenes, they were.

As for the weekend? Not sure about plans, but Ellise will be here so it's sure to be great. Oh, and there's a new member of the family a-coming on Sunday. I'll give you more details next week, but it's all a bit bloody exciting!

Big love,
Ryan.

P.S. I thought I'd leave a quick shout to all my awesome Sheffield friends who graduated last week. I must admit it was hard to see the photos, as I felt I should have been there, but I'm proud for each and every one of you and I hope you all had a fantastic day and week. Now starts life, whilst I get to bum around for another year I guess.

Just remember guys, C.R.E.A.M.

Par for the course.

Memorable scenes, this week.

Wednesday officially marked the six month anniversary of my Leukaemia diagnosis. Quite the landmark date, and though many of you may be left secretly disappointed that I'm still strolling around the place looking pretty smug with myself I insist that I have my celebratory moment of reflection here. Six months isn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it's quite a slog when you're life gets turned upside down and you're left battling through the days without much certainty as to what the next one may bring. The general outlook of my illness is looking better by the day, but that still doesn't take away from what a stressful and arduous ordeal this has been for me, and to reach six months with my head held high really fills me with optimism for what comes next. I could not be happier.

Of course, I have so many of you to thank for that. Your support has been absolutely incredible. I can't quite emphasise enough how I would not be in such a strong position were it not for you people around me. So cheers!

It hasn't all been plain sailing this week mind you. Delayed intensive has really settled into its innings, and today I went in for round two of Vincristine and Doxorubicin. As always the combination of the two has left me feeling fatigued and broken, but that's not the worse of it unfortunately. For some reason this cycle dictates that my steroid dosage is taken in separate weekly phases, meaning that I'm yanked off of them just as quickly as I get attached to the damn things. Steroid withdrawal is an absolute nightmare. When you're taking a drug which basically orchestrates your hormones, there are copious side affects that result from being suddenly deprived of that injunction. Muscle pains, mood swings and sleep deprivation are the main hitters, and when combined all at once your mood really does develop into something disturbingly tense. Lying in the hospital today was quite an extraordinary experience in that I had random flashes of paranoia for no reason whatsoever, which seemed to just conjure up from something as routine as a nurse putting a flush up or something. Extremely bizarre and not very pleasant, and the sooner I get shot of these steroids the better, believe you me.

Yesterday I could afford to relax amidst all the withdrawal chaos though as it was my sister's birthday. Myself, her and Min (is that grammatically correct?) went for a few quite drinks and a lovely dinner which on a cheeky note was actually my second meal of the evening. Chicken and chorizo with a side order of fatboy chips. Fit for a King, and I gobbled it down with great gusto. It was nice to escape from the house for an evening in the surroundings of a civilised environment, especially following my ridiculous bender in Devon a couple of weekends back. Lisa seemed to enjoy herself too, plus I got her a card with a retarded looking dog on it so all in all I believe the night was a raging success. The next family birthday is my Dad's. The family are planning something big for that one...

I'll leave it there. I'm still nursing my monster shepherd's pie from earlier. I've spoken a lot about dinner this entry, but what can I say? To quote a very dear friend of mine - "I like dinner".

Big love,

Ryan.

Blues of the world.

Oh to grasp life, and then to have it ripped away.

DRAMA. MERCILESS DRAMA. Pretty much sums my life up right now. Well ok, so it's not that dramatic. More a shock to the system than anything, what with the lethargy and apathy and anemia replacing the energetic splendor that I was experiencing on pretty much a daily basis for the past couple of months. The big bad chemo gang is back in town you see, and with me being the incompetent sheriff I'm struggling to find the effort to round up these outlaws and give them the royal bumming that they deserve.

What does that even mean?

On the plus side, I'm coping well. That basically means that (thus far) there is no negative as such and I can afford to be cautiously optimistic to the next six weeks or so. Anything can happen of course, such is chemotherapy, but so long as I look after myself this will be over soon enough.

Perhaps the biggest bummer of intense chemo that I'm going through right now is the vanity side of things. I've noticed that my face has begun swelling, all thanks to the contemptible dosage of steroids I'm taking, so I'm giving it about a week until I'll be fashioning a mug the size of the Millennium Dome. On top of this, I seem to be gradually putting on weight. "Get over it, you little princess!" I hear you shouting from the back. Well, perhaps, but it becomes troublesome when a) your clothes start becoming to small and b) you're on such a healthy diet you have no comprehension as to WHY IT IS HAPPENING. Unprecedented frustration.

Oh yeah, and the hair thing. You know how that works. That'll probably happen next week. NOOOOO.

Bitching aside though, I've had a decent couple of weeks since my last update. Devon was a hit, as expected. I got suitably wasted, somersaulted into a swimming pool and devoured my share of a pig roast and lamb. The journey home was an utter shambles but considering my record of stinking train rides it wasn't too bad I suppose. I'm thinking of taking an extended trip to Devon when this chemo is all finished. Maybe minus the excessive alcohol and lunacy this time though. I want to absorb the country life fo all it's glory this time; west country farmers can't get pissed up every night surely.

Speaking of lamb, I'm going to go eat some, thereby concluding the entry for today. If any of you lovely people would fancy visiting me any time soon, that would be bloody fantastic. Not that this is a desperate plea for friendship or anything, it's just in my current state I can't really go anywhere and obviously I'd love to see as many people as possible. So if you fancy a trip to the shire, come see me! I'll give you cake.

Big love,
Ryan.