Obviously the Mum dancing video should have given you some indication into how yesterday went, but in case you couldn’t tell…


*Attempts cartwheel* *Realises she’s 29* *Falls into heap*

Dr. W (still not seen Dr. P) done a thorough examination and confirmed that everything looked and felt (!) good.
They are happy with my progress.
My Research nurse (I’m on the DEPICT study) who is not my usual nurse, thought I was doing amazing. She was particularly impressed by my dilation methods*. Ahem.

Anyway, I don’t need to have another scan until my one year check in Jan and I just have bloods at my 9 month check in November.


I was so incredibly overwhelmed by the outpouring of love yesterday.
Texts and tweets, a torrent of purple pictures…at my last count, there was over 200 pictures I had to go through for #FransPurpleArmy & #PurpleArmyAssemble.
So much was the wave of love and support, I had to recharge my phone no less than 5 times yesterday. I even had to turn my phone off just so it was given a chance to recharge. Poor Little Mac was not expecting to be used so much.
And I’ve still not thanked everyone yet!

So onwards and upwards as the Research nurse said.

But I’m still fucked off with the Universe.

Until next time Soldiers. I love ya.

*Bow chicka wow wow. 3x weekly. Boom.


All for him

Today has been hard. I am filled with hate. Resentment is rising.

But I had a chat with James and a cuddle and he said ‘sore right, mummy. Jayes kiss better’.

Because it’s all for him. The hard work, the long hours, the worry.

As long as I see this face and he sees his Mummy, then I can get through today.

It’s all for you my boy.


24 Little Hours

Actually, for all you pedants out there it’s 30 little hours but hey ho, that’s not as catchy a title.

If you can sense the tone, I’ve woken in a foul mood. I am full of hate for the universe. My universe. I’m not stupid to think that I’m feeling this way because of what tomorrow is, but I do know these thoughts and anger have been bubbling for weeks. I’ve just brushed it off because really, most of it is so fucking trivial, it really doesn’t matter.

But today, it’s all decided to come to the surface and rear it tremendously ugly head.
I’ve decided that I’m going to take some #BlogTherapy after the lovely @nuttynursie said I should, but not today.

I need to channel some positivity and while I try and summon it, bringing you lot down with my rant will not help me when I need you all more than ever.

So I’m putting a lid on the crazy for a couple of days. CRAZY CAP LOCK TYPING will resume soon.

In the meantime, it is only 30 hours until my 6-month check. I need you all to get out anything you have in purple. Socks, pants, pens, dress, shoes. Get everyone in purple.
If you don’t want to wear purple, touch something purple for luck. Don’t necessarily touch a person wearing purple because they might not like it. You can touch me if you like, I’ll be wearing purple and I like touching.

I’m babbling.

Send your prayers, if you pray.
Send your good thoughts and vibes, if you have them.
Send your love, luck and hugs.
And send your pictures of you in purple. That gesture alone is worth so much to me.

Purple Army, ASSEMBLE!

3 More Sleeps

Actually that title should read, 3 disturbed sleep nights.
3 more sleeps until the 6 month check.
In some ways this check is worse than the 3 month check. At the 3 month check I was 400% more positive that I was doing better.

This time round, I’m not as sure. I think a lot is to do with it being the longest time I’ve gone without being seen by any doctor since I was diagnosed.
I can hear you thinking ‘But surely this is a good thing’, but in the mind of a cancer warrior, that’s not as comforting as you think.
I can only best describe it as it’s like you’re treading water.
Most days you can paddle for hours. You can go days where it’s a mere blip on your radar.
Some days you struggle to keep up. Pushing through a current which just wants to pull you in. A tiny thing triggers it. But your safety net is not there.

My anxiety is definitely getting worse. I’ve reached out and got myself a panic attack buddy. That poor girl might get bombarded this week.
I’ve started yoga (stop sniggering). I’m forcing myself to do something. I can’t let this current drag me in every 3 months. I can’t do this to my boys. I can’t let this cancer take anymore from me.

This song pretty much sums it for me. For now.
If there’s a rocket, tie me to it.

Yes, I do have an obsession with Snow Patrol. It’s like you don’t know me at all…

One Week

One week until I request a sea of purple.

One week until I have a half day.

One week until I make that journey. The same journey I could do blindfold.

One week until I smell that smell, that makes me heave and comforts all at once.

One week until I sit in those high back chairs.

One week until I am weighed and wince at the scales.

One week until I make uncomfortable jokes with Pete, whilst we while the time go passed 2.30pm.

One week until I see them. My wonder team.

One week until my 6-month check.

One week until I can breath again.

One week.

The Trip

My lovely Hubby, Petrov, Petie, Pete is back today to give us a little insight into the trip he takes every so often….Take it away Boyo x

The Trip

The premise of this blog is this,
One day trip. Me a 41 yr old man; James a 27 month old boy, one very full rucksack, my Mum, Sister, Dad, and, most importantly, London transport in its many forms.

The journey is a return trip of 61.2 miles to my Mums, a journey which I have done hundreds of times by myself, many times I have taken James, but with the important help of my lovely wife and also majorly his buggy. Never has this trip been attempted alone or without the aforementioned buggy. I know what you’re thinking, its suicide man! Are you mad?! And I would normally agree especially as you have to take into account the fact that this journey has 4 bus rides, 4 tube trips and also 4 train slogs, not to mention the many stairs, escalators and other passengers that have to be taken into account.

The day begins with me picking out suitable attire for myself and James, plus the important task of packing the bag. Now, any parent will agree that this is not something you can do without prior planning, you cannot just throw anything in there, it has to be packed with any possible catastrophe or disaster that could happen in mind. From a simple nappy change all the way up to the tantrum of all tantrums because some kid just got on the train with a bigger car than your kid has. So bag packed, next task, the journey. Check running times and any delays to calculate the most efficient and stress free journey possible.

Eager little passenger

Eager little passenger

I realise I have just rambled on about how this trip had the potential to be extremely stressful, and problematic, so what I say next will make it seem all pointless. I am sitting on the sofa now looking back on today, and can openly admit, I may have overreacted the journey to and from Mums as it was neither stressful or problematic. It was a joy to spend that time with the little man in my life.
He greeted every new person that sat next to us with a massive cheesy grin and a hearty “Heyyo” (he pronounces his L’s as Y’s). He also ended every train, tube or bus journey with a boisterous “Thank you driver”. And on the journey home, he fell asleep whilst he was munching on some raisins. A sure sign he had enjoyed his day.

Even too tired for raisins.

Even too tired for raisins.

This day out was not only a chance to catch up with my Mum and Sister but a chance to take James over the cemetery to see his Grandad, my Dad, who had passed away last November. We had not had the opportunity to take James over there before, so I had a feeling it was gonna be an emotional moment, but what was to follow I could never have imagined and will stay with me for a long time.
We took James over to where Dad’s ashes were buried and mum squatted down and said to James that this is where Grandad is and started to rub the grass. James instinctively knelt down started to rub the grass as well than said “Hello Grandad, miss you”. I’m glad Nanny Abra (James’ version of Barbara) never heard the “miss you” part as I’m pretty sure it would have tipped me over the edge. I already had the biggest lump in my throat.
After a few minutes we started to walk back, at which point James looked over his shoulder and said “Bye bye Grandad”.

I can honestly say I have never been so amazed or proud of anyone in my life as them few minutes with my Son.

Considering my Son was only 18 months old when his Grandad passed away. It appears my Dad left a marked impression on his young Grandson. When I was looking through the pictures of yesterday, I came across a picture of James playing with his Nanny Abra, and he is standing in the same way that my Dad used to stand. No one else in the family stands like it. I even showed it to my sister and she totally agreed.
If my James does have someone looking over him, keeping him safe and guiding him through life, i’m chuffed to think that it is his Grandad. I know they would have made an amazing team.

Standing like Grandad

Standing like Grandad

My final thought after this quite amazing day is this…………
No matter how bad you think something is or could even become, look to your children and have faith that they will make everything OK.