BOM ANO/HAPPY NEW YEAR

And 2010 is there. Almost. Time flies. I can definitely tell it this year with a different perspective. And as usual, at this time (as in other celebrations), we offer our best wishes to everyone: Happy New Year, Merry Christmas, Happy Easter and so on. Most times it just comes out as a standard season greeting melody: Happy New Year...All the best....May your wishes come true. The circumstances of life lead me to wish you all, my friends, colleagues and anonimous followers of my blog, with the most profound meaning a Great Healthy 2010. And a great 2010 as simple as in good health. The rest will follow (the love, the money, the job, the house....the the... the that each one of us is looking for). If health is not there...fuckitol!!! Be good, be also bad, but be yourselves and enjoy life throughout 2010 and beyond. 2009 has not been that bad after all...we are still alive! See you in 2010.

Taste is back

That was quick. Goes for lunch and comes back for dinner!!!! Bit shy, but back. How do I know? Try 100% cacao chocolate followed by plastic fantastic strawberry. I explain. Dinner was fish and yes I could taste fish, though, you know, not a fresh fish from the portuguese atlantic waters. Then I had a sudden wish to eat chocolate. Unfortunately, I could only find a 100% cacao and I forgot what that means. Not sweet...at all. What a disappointment. I thought taste is really gone. But then realized that 100% cacao means not sweet. So, went for the strawberry. And the contrast was so big that the strawberry did indeed taste strawberry.

Taste is gone

No panic...I am not talking about taste like in style. No, no, that one is still there these days. I hope. Lol. Food taste left me. Almost unannounced. How do I know? Facing a pizza at lunch today. The fight of the meals. Pizza margherita versus Miguel's appetite and taste. I won, I mean I ate the pizza, but was it a pizza? It could have been have been fish and chips in disguise. To confirm the loss I moved to the beautiful strawberries I bought at M&S. Beautiful, you know, like when you are in normal taste conditions they look pretty good but end up quite plastic fantastic? In this particular case I could see the strawberry but it could have been a potatoe as well...from the taste....less. Quite an experience. It is almost like molecular cuisine, so en vogue by El Buli. With a variation in my case, on molecular cuisine you see a strawberry but it tastes like an olive, for instance. In my case it tastes nothing. I am taste neutral, no reason to complain about food now. Maybe I should try lamb and saumon. But, as the brain is still working I guess it would be a no go. It will come back though, it will come back, sooner or later. The food taste. Miam!

What's up?

Christmas is over....so much excitment, rush rush and its already gone. Next year there is more. You guys had a good Christmas? Anything out of normal, like Santa Claus didn't show up due to snow disruption on the MI5? Family left, I am back to my position as king of my world. :-). Sleep, eat, drink water drink water, read, watch dvd's/internet. Got a bit of cold, bit shy, not defined yet.

I survived Christmas eve

Oh Gosh, it was not easy....but excellent to have family around and the dinner came up just as in Portugal. So everyone was happy. Pretty intense though with all family around (kids will always be kids) and me a bit tired. And the food, the food and the food! I had to battle myself back from stuffing some kilos of bacalhau and risking to spend the night....you know doing what. And then the sweets, more sweets and more. The enclosed picture gives an idea of my head and spirit spining around in waves of excitment and despair vav a Christmas eve after chemo. I survived! Ops! There is now Christmas lunch arriving. I think I need some exercise.

Jingle Bells Jingle Bells - tocam os sinos na torre da igreja

The allergy is gone. Uff! Couldn't scare my mother. Enough commotion already to see me with a shaved head. Family arrives tomorrow for the battle of the Christmas Eve "bacalhau". It's going to feel like a refugee camp evacuating Christmas dinner from Portugal to London (people, food, drink, pans, sweets...the all lot). I hope the airport authorities don't stop the vegetables and codfish or we end up having cucumber sandwiches. I wish you all my friends a great time with your families. I shall be silent for a few days. Nothing will happen anyway, just eat, drink, eat, drink, and eventually some natural irritation with relatives insisting to eat more (very Portuguese: "Eat more, eat! Don't leave and then say you were hungry!"). Never try this line on me.

Allergic to my place!!

Is it possible? Before the last cycle started I spent a few days at home and the body started getting all red. I got to the hospital and there were no traces to show to the doctors. Like if the allergy had become, all of a sudden, doctor shy. Now I am back home and the allergy is mildly showing up. This body only wants now aseptic hospital environments? Need to give it a few days of adaptation. Oh! The wonders of chemo.

2 months have run

2 months already since I was told about my partner in crime (23/10). 1.5 at hospital (since 09/11), the rest at home. Crazy, time flies!! The world didn't change much...I got a new look. Its Christmas, almost New Year. Life goes on. So, what's next you may wonder? Next week consultation for blood tests and liver check up. Week after new blood tests and see Prof B. for next steps assessment. Then new scans.....spooky, at that stage we see if chemo has worked. Their intention is to do only two cycles, which have just finished. But you never know. All fingers crossed. And maybe some local and minimal radiotherapy to finish the process. From now on and until further notice I am resting at home, like a lazy cat. Miau miau!

My Christmas tree

With a Galo de Barcelos taste.

Amazing machine

This body of ours!!! Neutrophils at 1.4 today, another intrathecal (spine injection) and I am out of hospital tonight. Last time took me another week to go through recovery. Ufff!!! freedom again and Christmas definitely at home. My priorities today: walk the walk in the ward to get this body shaking again. Eat a pizza for lunch and a chicken curry Wagamama for dinner. This is what freedom means, isn't that simple? Who wants more?

The neutrophils league

Me and my neutrophils and my isolation room are a competition of its own. Whoever wins first determines when I can go home again. Last time it took a week and three days. It went from 0 to 0 until jumped to 5 thanks to an ...overdose, of boost injections. Now it went from 0.5 on Friday to 0.3 yesterday to 0.4 today...Is it going to be quicker this time? Fingers crossed. Home here I may go.

Free from drip

Is it the baguette and ham speed cure? Or just the body getting quickly used to chemo? The reality is that I am now (Saturday 14:00) free from the drip. Earlier than the previous time. The body already eliminated the traces of chemo. Uff!!!! Feel less of a water fountain. Still blocked in the isolation room, but at least slghtly freer. This is the second time in a week that I conclude how impressive our body is. On Tuesday the red cells went low and the doctors decided to give me a blood transfusion. I was a bit shocked as I never had a blood tranfusion and felt, for the first time, that strange external blood would run through my veins. Almost felt like a jehova and tempted to refuse. For some, maybe bureaucratic reason, the blood tranfusion went forgotten and I even insisted on it. And two days after I didn't need it anymore!!

Back to isolation

Like a misbehaved inmate. Though I don't misbehave. I think they even miss me in the corridors (I am young, smile, don't run around in delirium and I am low maintenance, who would say that!). This time, at least, I get a view of the city and not the hospital hall and avoid being tortured by the sound of coffee downstairs at "Costa". I just noticed I could get a job as traffic controller for the British airtraffic authorities for the period of my isolation! Does it pay to count the number of aircrafts I see from my window ? There is one a minute at least.

Nightmare in the ward

The last two nighst at the ward have been pretty busy, like in hollywood action busy. Main character: Manel on the left. The poor man has been isolated, is in deep pain and is loosing it as well. Two nights ago the agony was too much to bear. His screams waking up everyone and clearly his speech was not choerent anymore. Taking into account that he is Portuguese I got the worst of his delirium, since I was the one understanding it. Not nice to watch or hear. It is enough to suffer, but to loose your mind as well is a bit too much. This last night things got even worst. He tried to leave the hospital, kicked everyone and started moving from the corridor into the ward where the three remaining of me and my colleagues hided in panick under our sheets awaiting for him to jump on us. Quite a possibility, since not even his wife could stop him. He is quiet now...days are quiet. And he is a Benfica fan, at least he shouted Benfica while in deliirium. I knew there had to be something wrong with him.

Food, food, food, visions of food

I am now in that stage where I guess I would beat any pregnancy instinct for food. I only think of food. I switch on TV and there is...food. I eat, I want more. I may end up attacking B5's Indian delicatessens. Smells so good. But, obviously that with chemo all this food visions are hallucinations. I can't eat all I want. So in order to keep me sane, I am listing what I need to do next (not in order of priority not to offend anyone) when I am out of here:
- Stuff myself in pizza Mamma Roma in Brussels;
- A calamar salad at "Fin de Siecle" in Brussels;
- Mum and sisters food in great quantity. Roasted and more roasted home raised chicken. And lodds of bacalhau;
- Antonio's pasta;
- a piece of traditional baguette with cheese, ham and butter.....yummie!
- Japanese Canteen chicken terriaki;
- a egg bacon sandwich for breakfast (now I am really gone into a British acculturation);
- a Paul grille pomme;
- some Whole Foods after gym;
- "Number 1" thai food;
- The chicken curry at Busaba Eathai;
- Sara's and Ahmet's comfy food and cakes;
- and my food of course.

Oh God! Better stop. This is too painful.

It is snowing

Yep, it is snowing outside (inside only a lot of fluids and chemo going again through my hickman line). It won't stay...the snow. But it is nice as a prelude of a white Chritsmas. My large window view is complete with a now massive sea of lillies. The Kentucky friend of Mr B2 is very extravagant, very good friend and sent him 5 huge bouquets of lillies. I just hope my nose can cope with such garden once all these flowers start blossoming. Bckground music...the wife of B5 reciting some kind of religious book. Pretty annoying really. The rythmn is a killer. Shall I start revicing the Bible like an American TV evangelical presenter or simply histerically praised the Lord? Oh! No. She is now singing. Let me try to sleep a bit.

7am blood pressure calls

Couldn't they do it at 8? Maybe 8.30? Is there a good chance my heart decides to stop around 7ish and their statistics go bananas? Message is, let me....try...to sleep. But around 7am I start hearing the assistants approaching the ward. Mr this, Mr that blood pressure. B3 Mr Ferreira blood pressure. "Hi, what time is it?" "7am darling" "Bit early don't you think?". But she is funny. As we approach Christmas I believe yhey recruit external staff for this as I don't know these new faces. In this case it is a black lady with a very funny accent. She recalls me the song of Mika where there is a lady speaking before he starts singing. Let's see if I can reproduce it here (listen below around minute 4:12). And she left me for another Mr this blood pressure. The conversation with Mr M. turns into scrambleg eggs, bacon. Christ! give me a break. Do I really have to hear all this? Just stuff is mouth with the blood pressure machine and make sure his heart runs. And do it quickly.

Where days finish. Or nights start?

My count of pills finishes or starts. Yesterday I reached 13. Could be worst. A new pill for stomach protection, though I didn't realize that protection meant transforming the poor organ into a unmovable stone. Which added to intestine cramps it promised a rocky night. Finally, I admitted I need half a sleeping pill to force me to sleep. Still managed to wake up three times. Reason being the intestine problems. The cramps only show up during the last cycle in the last three days. Spooky!! They are starting now. I literally felt each piece of lunch steak flowing through each cm of intestine and if you recall well your biology classes, the intestine is a long tunnel. Couldn't I simply get some fireman pump thrown into my mouth to give me massive flash of water and wash away any possible food? It would be quicker at least than the painkillers. I did order them, but the nurse was slow or forgot it. By that point of despair I felt like using the good title of this blog and shout from my B3 boot: " Nurse , where the fuck are those fucking painkillers". But I did control myself and just used the beep again. There she comes "Hi love here you go" by when my brain was already in the mode "fuck off and next time be quicker". Lol

I am full, like in stomach full

Weekend at home was another opportunity to stuff myself. But the chemo takes it toll on the food I eat. Having been used all my life to eat what I want and in the quantity I want without putting an extra kilo, it would be a bit unfair now to re-educate myself due to chemo. Probably it will come. Not too much food to avoid indigestion, not too little to avoid getting weak!! I can hear the complains of you less unfortunate to whom that extra bread or delicious piece of chocolate cake implies a regime or extra sports. Not good old Miggy. So, feeling today like having another steak at Sophie's was a troublesome experience. The quantity was the same as usual, same old 10' ribeye, french fries and salad. The outcome was painful. An entire afternoon resting and waiting digestion to follow its course. Maybe I need to start eating more slowly. No even hospital managed yet to make me loose old habits. For those of you in the City, I gag for a Japanese Canteen Chicken Terriaki, yummie! It comes second in top wishes after my Portuguese bacalhau. This one I will kill over Christmas, the terriaki as soon as I go back to work. Not a good idea to try it before. Not cold.

My new me

What I used to look like and what I look like now. Pick and choose.

Back home for weekend

Another rest at home. Though I start thinking if it is a good idea. After all in two days I am back to that food. If you missed the beginning of this blog (where have you been anyway?) I started by loving the food, then igonring it, still don't hate it, but I am not far. Reason why, yesterday, taking advantage that everyone was in the spirit of Christmas parties, I also had mine with a steak at Sophie's Steakhouse, my steak hideaway in Fulham Road. www.sophiessteakhouse.co.uk. It is so good to go to a place where they know you, they give you a big smile, know what you want. Basically treat you like a loyal customer. Exactly like in Brussels, isn't it? I need to share this one with the ones of you that didn't have the chance to know yet one of the best pearls of Belgian service. I am with a friend at "Pain Quotidien" Avenue Louise. It is 09:50, though I hadn't realize. We order a ham/cheese sandwich. "Oh! non desole, on sert pas des tartines avant 10 heures!!!!" - meaning sorry mate no sandwiches before 10. My friend was pretty shocked having realized it was 09:50. And hell, it could have been 08:00, a sandwich is a sandwich, a bit of cheese and ham in a bread. But, not in Belgium. In order to complete the scene, he girl proposes to bring the bread, the ham and the cheese...all separate. Which she did!!!!!! Now do you think she even realized our shock and how stupid she looked? I can answer, she didn't. There are more stories, if you wish.

And mortals we are

The guy that was in isolation room and covered in tubes, had a a lung cancer. Had. He passed away yesterday. I could hear the family crying, but the staff plays it so discrete that you don't see what is going on. Then the door of the room was closed. And later in the evening they were taking the bed out of the room that became empty. Empty! Some hours before there was still a thin sign of life. 38 years old. American. Doctors kept him alive overnight so that the family could arrive from US and spend his last minutes at his side. We are here and all of a sudden we are not anymore.....the vulnerability of life. A fine line....

I can't complain can I?

Judging by the 5 minutes the doctors spend with me everyday I think I can conclude I am doing well. They come in, how are you, fine, any questions? no questions, oh you are doing well. And they leave. But not everyone around me is in the same situation. One of the Maneis has the biopsy wound infected and it is getting difficult to heal. The British lad in front of me looks ok, but has back pain, had an heart attack, the nerves over the eye leaving him seeing double and cause him chest pain. The British toff (judging by his ring on the small finger) is ready to go home but kidneys block him. The Indian gentleman is pretty blocked and the other day his eyes were a bit bizzare, I thought he was dying. I think it was just pain and despair. On one of the isolated rooms there is a guy covered in tubes. I heard a lot of crying today from family and friends. In between the Christmas tree is being set up. Business as usual. The show must go on. Bottomline, if something shitty happens to you today, give a deep breath, think there is someone, somewhere in deep shit and you are just doing fine. Move on or take a break. There is only one thing that has no solution. Death. And it is also our biggest certainty. Poor mortals.

Back to chemo

With so many stories around the Maneis, you may not know that I am back on chemo since Monday. Exactly the same cycle as the previous time. A first easier week with intrathecal's and 15 minutes intravenal chemo. But as I like things well organized I was not very pleased that the chemo last Monday started at 19:00 instead of 15:00 like last time and that they have changed my the doctore for the intrathecal. After all Dr. E. had given already three injections and I was used to her. Yesterday the doctor changed and I fell a bit tense. This reflected on feeling more the anesthetics. But still OK. Compared to last time I feel a bit more nausea, but again nothing dramatic. With chemo the beard is not growing, but is not falling eitehr, so I shaved it as well. My head finally looks like a perfect egg. At least the eyebrows and eyelashes are still there. And then there was the facing of the first meal at hospital after 5 days at home. I passed the test and could eat. Despite they give me steroids again, there is no way I will comment that the food is excellent like during my first week here.


Cultural note: TV has the basic English channels, 2 Arabian and 1 Indian. The Indian is a kind of MTV showing all the time Bollywood style clips. If you never watched Bollywood style clips I incentive you to do it. Visually it is extremely rich (the coreography, the clothes, the colours), women are all gorgeous, men so so. The sound and vocals are a bit of the same after 2 or 3 songs unfortunately. A lot of tiri tiri, that changes into siri siri, into piri piri song after song.

Maneis have found me

:-(
I am sure that the Portuguese assistant M.I. couldn't resist telling Manuel on the left and Manuel in front that the guy on their side yesterday was also Portuguese. This despite me asking her for her silence. Mistake, I did not pay her silence. Today I got the visit of Manuel in front. Nice and quiet guy, just came to bring me a paper I forgot. Meaning good excuse to establish the contact. Then I went to the loo and came accross Manuel on the left. OMG, I know now what he thinks of the NHS, doctors, all his treatments, the last 5 months of problems, how his glandule went from a olive size to an orange size.....and what an headache I had at the end. Each time, I tried, to interrupt him, he would say "listen, listen' (Portuguese: "ouca, ouca") and would go on. Am I like this as well? After this episode I had a team building session with myself around my previous visits and I realized that I told them non stop everything about my situation from the GP meeting to the moment I saw the person!!! I should maybe re-assess and ask visitors if they have any questions. Lol. At least they were both nice and did not expose my silence yesterday. i said i had a lot of headache and had to rest. Manuel on the left, in his typical Portuguese sofa coach approach, said: "Oh I realized it, you looked so white". Thank you mate, at least I don't look a bit greyish like you.

A5 neighbours

As advanced the ward is busy and I have been allocated bed A5, which stands in the middle :-( There are 6 beds in the "room". Three on one side, three on the other. As I was settling, I realized the something was familiar. There were two other Portuguese patients around. So, I have Manuel on my left and Manuel in front of me. Both on their 50's. And there is a Pepe on my right side, maybe Spanish, But bit quiet for a Spanish, not the usual trac trac trac trac. Manuel in front is quiet, but Manuel on the left is a chatty character. He simply doesn't stop. He beats me in all fronts. I contained myself and did not introduce myself, better go undercover and avoid that Manuel on the left starts harrassing me with bullshit conversation. Apart from that, going undercover allows me to listen to their conversations. As they think they are alone, the pearls that come out of their mouth are precious. They look like two old villager ladies chatting on all possible subjects with no end. Oh! and Manuel on the left's mobile is loud, he is louder, he whistles. Additionally, both exchange views on anything accross the room like if they are at their local caffe. Manuel on the left has just received the visit of Maria. She also gets pretty loud on the mobile. She couldn't hear apparently, so we had participate all in her call. Things start getting interesting when she decides that the staff are not treating Manuel on the left properly and has a row at the nurse. "These clowns are doing nothing, they will see, I will teach them a lesson. Always the same. They start taking care of patient and leave it in the middle". She turns to the nurse and says: "You are finishing with Manuel right? Today, not in three hours? He wants to know if its before midnight. Do you understand? Before midnight". The nurse turns her back and Maria says that British can not understand our humour! The three agree staff have a very...British humour. Lol. They also ellaborate on population numbers in Portugal and England and emigration. They refer to emigrants as "those foreigners". They forget they are emigrants themselves. Maria asks Manuel in front: "Do you know other awards in this hospital?" She means wards. Sweet! And they start ellaborating on the cleaning of the ward. Cleaning seems to be a national obession, even for me. It must be years of "cleaning lady" type of jobs. Not that I have done that one, yet! They are now, the three, in the best style 'Gato Fedorento" comedy, reviewing each ones diseases and problems like in a competition: who has the most and the worst problems? The three are the typical Portuguese emigrant I am afraid - despite years abroad they did not assimilate anything from the new culture, they remain the same Manuel and Maria of the little village or even big city back home. Sad. Being a villager boy myself, I know what I am saying and I can confirm the thesis of human evolution. Lol. So, I impatiently wait to be moved to bed B3, by the window and hope they do not understand I am 'one of them".

Back to hospital

10:00 am is back to hospital, blood samples, blood pressure, weight, questionnaires (better be sure if you haven't changed your religion in the last 5 days!!) you did not get allergic to any of the medicine, re-check all the medicine you are taking and so on. Prof B. introduces me to Poppy (fictional name) , another youung trainee, this time with an extra ...she is the daughter of Dr. N. Everyone goes around saying hi, maybe to make sure there are no complains to her father. Poppy is... how to describe her? A cheerful girl, with a big smile and a big flower in her hair...and a mini skirt. I just have no clue what is her role. Didn't bother to ask. We have a laugh at each other with the help of Prof. B. that is on his usual good mood. He explained the next three weeks. A possible need for radiotherapy at the end (re-assured me I won't be disformed) and the fact that chemo is working. Yuppie. Moved to the ward, where they got me a bed in the middle (meaning not on the window, not on the corridor - the ones I prefer). Oh, no!!! But it seems they have managed to get me another bed, this time at the window later today. I am writting another post on my ward neighbours. You will understand why I don't like beds in the middle. Chemo restarts in about an hour. A short 15 minutes shot.

Change of skin

?!
Before it was the hair falling like a dog changing its hair. Now the skin is breaking like a snake...changing skin. What's next? Everything falls apart and a new me emerges? Like a larva giving space to a butterfly?

Silence

Being at home, just stuffing myself, reading and checking e-mails, leaves me not much to say. So shall remain silent till Monday when I go back to hospital and all starts again.

"Faux pas"

When I moved apartments I wrote to my Portuguese bank informing them. They came back saying that they could only do the change in person at a branch (in Portugal) or over the phone! Slightly irritated I wrote them back saying something like: "Dear XX, I am currently in hospital, in London curing a cancer. It will be difficult to go to a branch in Portugal and I don't find beneficial for my chemo to spend my time queuing on the phone. Consequently, you have the info, so do with it what you want. If you need to find me, try and you may be lucky....". I was very proud of my answer. Today I get a message from my branch in Viatodos, saying all is fixed and wishing me all the best for my treatment. Nice...nice? STUPID, I was very stupid. I went saying to the bank that I have a cancer. Very smart move. Try now to get a health insurance or loan from them Miguel, try. Grrrrrrrrr!!!!!! In order to compensate for this, I am back home eating my food...no loss of appetite whatsoever. Went to hospital for another intrathecal. Went OK as usual, but feeling a bit tired now (10 hours after). The girl next door was less lucky, kept screaming as soon as she saw the needle. I guess they had difficulties finding her veins.

01/12/1640

01/12/1640 The Portuguese finished with the Spanish rule (80 years that should be deleted from history). The traitors were killed and the Filipe's reign in Portugal finished. National holiday. I love my few Spanish friends, but I also love my country...independent, always. Long live Portugal, the oldest nation in Europe.

8

For the first time, in three entire weeks, I managed to sleep 8 hours in full with no interruptions. Quite an achievement. I think I even had an headache. Then I rushed to Costa for a hot chocolate. A proof of my new freedom. But it was a bit chilly (just realized how hot it was in that room) so decided not to stay in the ground floor.
Fait divers: Doctor with a good eye (after the doctor with a good nose): one of the generic doctors comes to me and asks where did I get my robe from? Well I said 'It was G. that gave it to me. I think he has stolen it from some Portuguese hotel. Though G. will say it was given to him as he is a very exquisite guest". Then gave some shop tips to the doctor. I think I have made a friend. Lol.
Note: I initially wrote rope and not robe. Lol My English sometimes falls short or my brain goes too fast and mixes the letters.