At present of course I have no idea what the future holds. I know there is cancer, and metastasising. But they are just words which don't really have any reality.
I was asked this week whether I liked to talk about the word cancer.
I think it is important. I feel pretty much like Harry Potter talking about Voldemort. Reality is scary enough without wrapping it in fear and ignorance. By the end of this week we will have a better name. Tom Riddle may be a clever little bastard but a human foe. If the diagnosis we get is lung cancer, which seems possible, the irony is huge for someone whose ability to inhale tobacco smoke was so limited that when he bought a joint in a coffee shop in Amsterdam his wife had to smoke it for him. Riddikulus.
How do I feel then?
It is now Wednesday lunch time. Tomorrow morning in Kirkcaldy will tell me a lot about my immediate future. I am unusually optimistic but I have to keep alive the knowledge that the news may not be what we hope for. The shock otherwise would be too much.
So I feel good. Not working very hard but I almost have the business ready to sail on without me till I am fit enough to climb back into my white van. I am eating like a pig and drinking a little more beer than is strictly necessary to wash it down. There may come a time when I feel like neither and I might be glad of the half a stone I have put on.
I have always admired the epitaph Paul Edington, most famous for Yes Minister, chose "He did very little harm" may seem unambitious but few of us can achieve it. Of course I have never been rich in personal ambition.
There is a guilt in the knowledge that my illness is hurting those around me. Not the fierce guilt that I have done something wrong and can change anything but the constant knowledge that by behaving well I can make it easier for them. They of course make it easy to behave well. I have managed somehow to surround myself with a marvellous group of family and friends.
You have probably realised that I am fond of rugby. This is largely because of the teams that it builds. Groups of young people who work very hard together and who learn to look after each other in physical danger and in the almost equally dangerous social life that surrounds it. It builds friendships which last lifetimes.
My rugby credentials are largely fraudulent. In 1972 I became one of the skinniest and least skilled players ever to play second row for the Strathallan School 6th XV. That I played the match despite a severe back sprain, and contributed even less than my limited skill set would have allowed, suggests that I had entirely missed the whole teamwork ethic.
True but since then I have had good teachers.
James and Ben have both gained from playing the game. This would be a good moment to mention that James captained Rob Dewey in the Madras College 3rd year XV. Ben's pride when he unearthed this little remembered fact in the school's online archive was heart warming.
The family and friends around me now give me the same sense of confident reassurance.
There is a second source of guilt.
Since I have learned about my problem many many people have told or reminded me that someone close to them has had similar health problems. Now that I realise how important it has been to me that those I care for react to my news by coming towards me and talking I feel bad that I have not been as good a friend as I could have been to others.
Don't worry about saying the wrong thing. I reserve the right to laugh or hug randomly but will be grateful.
Hmm, not to many laughs today so I will leave you with a vignette from a Belfast Saturday night, or more accurately Sunday morning.
Mr Peddie, after enjoying a very fine Indian meal washed down with good company and lashings of, well not ginger beer, but Cabernet Sauvignon. (Enid Blyton reference, sorry it's my age and upbringing.), insisted that the assembled company reassemble in the Errigle pub where a very fine Jaipur IPA was being served.
Around 1.30am even I had had enough and had retired to bed in that fully clothed flat out on back pose so beloved of wives and so certain to ensure maximum snoring. Significantly I also had my glasses on.
About an hour later I revived briefly. As always my first act on waking was to put my specs on. As you may recall I already had mine on, so the pair I found were Clare's. She was woken by a noisy man wearing 2 pairs of glasses complaining loudly that he couldn't see his phone properly to find out what time it was. (2.30 I am reliably informed)
Enough? I will be back with hard news in a day or two.
How do I feel then?
It is now Wednesday lunch time. Tomorrow morning in Kirkcaldy will tell me a lot about my immediate future. I am unusually optimistic but I have to keep alive the knowledge that the news may not be what we hope for. The shock otherwise would be too much.
So I feel good. Not working very hard but I almost have the business ready to sail on without me till I am fit enough to climb back into my white van. I am eating like a pig and drinking a little more beer than is strictly necessary to wash it down. There may come a time when I feel like neither and I might be glad of the half a stone I have put on.
I have always admired the epitaph Paul Edington, most famous for Yes Minister, chose "He did very little harm" may seem unambitious but few of us can achieve it. Of course I have never been rich in personal ambition.
There is a guilt in the knowledge that my illness is hurting those around me. Not the fierce guilt that I have done something wrong and can change anything but the constant knowledge that by behaving well I can make it easier for them. They of course make it easy to behave well. I have managed somehow to surround myself with a marvellous group of family and friends.
You have probably realised that I am fond of rugby. This is largely because of the teams that it builds. Groups of young people who work very hard together and who learn to look after each other in physical danger and in the almost equally dangerous social life that surrounds it. It builds friendships which last lifetimes.
My rugby credentials are largely fraudulent. In 1972 I became one of the skinniest and least skilled players ever to play second row for the Strathallan School 6th XV. That I played the match despite a severe back sprain, and contributed even less than my limited skill set would have allowed, suggests that I had entirely missed the whole teamwork ethic.
True but since then I have had good teachers.
James and Ben have both gained from playing the game. This would be a good moment to mention that James captained Rob Dewey in the Madras College 3rd year XV. Ben's pride when he unearthed this little remembered fact in the school's online archive was heart warming.
The family and friends around me now give me the same sense of confident reassurance.
There is a second source of guilt.
Since I have learned about my problem many many people have told or reminded me that someone close to them has had similar health problems. Now that I realise how important it has been to me that those I care for react to my news by coming towards me and talking I feel bad that I have not been as good a friend as I could have been to others.
Don't worry about saying the wrong thing. I reserve the right to laugh or hug randomly but will be grateful.
Hmm, not to many laughs today so I will leave you with a vignette from a Belfast Saturday night, or more accurately Sunday morning.
Mr Peddie, after enjoying a very fine Indian meal washed down with good company and lashings of, well not ginger beer, but Cabernet Sauvignon. (Enid Blyton reference, sorry it's my age and upbringing.), insisted that the assembled company reassemble in the Errigle pub where a very fine Jaipur IPA was being served.
Around 1.30am even I had had enough and had retired to bed in that fully clothed flat out on back pose so beloved of wives and so certain to ensure maximum snoring. Significantly I also had my glasses on.
About an hour later I revived briefly. As always my first act on waking was to put my specs on. As you may recall I already had mine on, so the pair I found were Clare's. She was woken by a noisy man wearing 2 pairs of glasses complaining loudly that he couldn't see his phone properly to find out what time it was. (2.30 I am reliably informed)
Enough? I will be back with hard news in a day or two.
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