Follow This Blog So having been released from ICU on Fri 14/7 i took the decision to fully relax and convalesce. I left hospital 11kg / 23lb heavier due to being pumped full of fluid to support my blood pressure. Over the next few days I  lost 2kg per day! Weeeeeee. Sunday   I woke up feeling a little less bloated than the night before but then a pain came on in my stomach. Herman wasn't happy! Herman is my ventral hernia with a little belly button side kick hernia to keep him company. It’s thanks to Herman who, known at the time as the lump, led me to an ultrasound scan with inconclusive results, a CT scan that revealed a solitary kidney (since birth) and a blood test that showed an elevated white cell count leading to a diagnosis of MBL and eventually Lymphoma. That was 2019. I thank Herman for all the advanced warning and preparation he’s given me. Mayby it was my lack of attention or maybe the bloating from hosital, but the fat on the inside of my muscle wall, had pushed itself

Follow This Blog In my recent stay in hospital (8th - 14th July '23), specifically the four days in ICU I experienced a mixed bag of emotions. Most were anxiety tinged with frustration and some sadness at the loss of my health. There was also joy at the successes and pride in my resilience both physical and mental. During that time there was one moment that was the most terrifying I’ve ever experienced. It begged the question: would it have long term psychological consequences for me? This blog is an opportunity to process that experience by revisiting it, reflecting upon its implications and collect my thoughts, surrounding trauma, labels and self diagnosis. It’s in no way exhaustive or designed to be carved in stone. It’s simply where I'm at at this moment, a week after leaving hospital. It draws on my experience as an integrative counsellor with significant experience of working with clients who’ve been through similar experiences during their cancer journey. My Traumatic

Follow this Blog! In this Post: A radiator, drip, a call, then: Admission to UCLH (University College London Hospital) via their A&E dept. Two nights reclining on the Haematology ward until a midnight transfer to ICU. Presenting: Sepsis vs Sadler, a battle fighting sepsis in ICU. To top it off a dance and a rosie bowl of tom yum soup! Wow what a ride - the timeline: |The Radiator: Saturday morning and I'm trying to rehang the bathroom radiator having been in a state of wonkiness for years. No matter how many times I measured, I couldn't get the brackets in the right place, brain fog! I was taking frustration/exhaustion breaks more and more frequently. I’d also heard an ominous crack from below the floorboards. A pipe joint had cracked and we get the first drip of this story. We now have a large hole in the ceiling of the room below. Do Not Pass Go: With perfect irony it wasn't the radiators temperature going up but mine! It was drilled into me at

First up: I’ve added a ‘follow me’ link so you don’t have to sign into Google. I’ll email everyone to let them know when a new post is posted.   I’ve decided to get back into coding this summer partly to test whether I’m affected by cancer brain: the impact of Chemo on my attention and concentration, both in physiological and psychological terms. The joy of writing a blog is that when I reread this in years to come I alone will get all the jokes. This is in stark contrast to getting back into coding, where I’ll effectively have to hack the code of my younger self. ‘Why the F*&% did I code it like that!’ is my typical response. WARNING!  Today’s post is about nausea and will probably contain carrots! Nausea i.e. vomiting, throwing a Huey Green, or doing pavement pizza etc. That should start the thread going on facebook? It ‘ain’t gonna be pretty, colourful, but not pretty. Good news: I’m off the three per day anti-nausea tablets as I’m no longer feeling icky. This is alm

FOLLOW Apologies but I think Sitreps are going to be quite dry posts, especially as I'm now off alcohol! When I reread this in years to come, it’s useful to have a blow by blow account.  Summary:  I’ve now had two consecutive days of chemotherapy at the Macmillan Centre near London’s Warren Street. It’s part of UCLH and is a centre of excellence for many forms of cancer. There’s a wide open space with comfortable chairs that gives it the feel of a modern hotel foyer in the Bauhaus style. Nothing says caring support like raw concrete.  My chair yesterday was what I now call cancer pink, aka fuschia, suggesting the fushia’s bright, if not orange! It all went well apart from a tricky moment as me and another middle aged man crossed paths going in and out of the disabled loo, both with drip stands in tow. Picture two cars towing caravans manoeuvring in a motorway service station car park. He called his drip stand Hat Stand, which is good, but not as good as mine