Groundhog Day

I apologise for the lack of posts recently, but to be honest not much has happened that warrants sharing with the wider world.  And that my friends is the point of this post.

Until you experience it, there is nothing that can prepare you for the monotony, routine and boredom of illness and recovery.  There isn’t anything to report because this week, was very much like the last week and the week before.  Trips to hospital to change the dressing on my line that feeds the chemicals in to me, trips to be assessed, then the visit for the chemo treatment.  All routine, boring and very dull ( I am not referring to the doctors, consultants and nurses here, some of whom read this and are the nicest, interesting people known to man).

And of course you aren’t really prepared for the tedium and routine, it’s almost as painful as having your bumhole removed.  I am not suggesting that life before bum cancer was a whirlwind of excitement and daring-do.  But it had its moments and it was good.  I was fortunate enough to work at a thing that was challenging and varied and family life was just on the right side of being unpredictable.  So the last few months have come as a bit of a shock.  I haven’t been sat around watching back-to-back daytime TV, stewing in self-pity, but it has felt a bit like I am stuck on the set of the film, Groundhog Day.  As my super-duper oncologist said this week, “it takes over your life”, and she is right you don’t realise that this thing takes over, sits on your face and constantly farts in your mouth until you can breathe nothing more than cancer guffs.

Where my situation differs from the film is that I can’t indulge in the outrageous acts of hedonism and depravity that Bill Murray’s character Phil Connors pursues each day, safe in the knowledge that he can start all over again tomorrow.  I am just trying to deal with it and at times that gets a bit too much and throws me in to a proper downer as I am full to the brim of noxious cancer whiff.  I am lucky enough to have some wonderful family around me and friends that understand and are stupidly supportive.  They force me to come up for air now and again and allow me to breathe in something other than cancer guffs, which makes the whole process bearable.  Just about!

I promise I haven’t been sat around watching Doctors and Loose Women, although I do like a bit of Bargain Hunt.  So in my free time I have been able to pursue my photography a bit more, If you are interested you can see the results here and I have my ongoing committment to the best music and beer festival in the world, which I help to run and in the new year I will be launching a new business with my father, which has really helped to occupy my over the past few months (more details to follow).  And whilst work has been very thin on the ground, I have just been approached to write an essay on leadership in education for a magazine, so perhaps that may lead to something else.  So, as you can see there have been some opportunities to breathe a sweeter air in between cancer farts and do they taste great.

Andrew Williams

50 year old, living with his colon and bowel cancer and all that that entails. Quietly sweary, family man living in Somerset, UK.

Comments 5

  1. Oh Andrew I did wonder. After the brilliant posts pre chemo, and at the start, it all went very very quiet, and I was worried. At the same time I didn’t want to bug you if you wanted to be alone. It’s hard to know the right thing to do, isn’t it!
    Remember though, that you can call/email me if you want to rant to someone distant. You know me – even if you call when I am at work I shall probably carry on working -lol!!!! Slowly word is getting round here and we are all thinking of you. Take care, sweetie xx

    1. Mandy,

      Thanks for the thoughts. All is well with the treatment as I have been fortunate enough to tolerate the poisons that are pumped in to me. Now three-quarters of the way through chemo, so the end is near. We can then start to get life back to normal. Regards to everyone (the nice ones) in Cambridge, I hope you all have a good, well deserved, christmas break.

  2. Hello you. We were talking about you the other day (all good..of course!), took a look at your latest photos online….the old pier shot…if you panned right, you’d see us having a bacon and egg roll (!) The ruin lays in the shadow of the ghastly i360 tower now (we don’t like it!) Anyway, we hope this finds you well. We hope that you have a lovely Christmas Andrew. Love and best wishes.

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