Bloghead 16 - "Im Invincible."

This time last year (yes it is now January 2018 and how time flies) I am still  grappling with the dreadful news of being diagnosed with prostate cancer. Shock, horror. Me? The fittest 63 year old (in my mind) who keeps fit and cycles everywhere and loves to rave in Ibiza? Has cancer. I was invincible, but… 

Was I deluded? Did I really think that I was invincible?

When you are young with fire in your belly, time means nothing to you but, when all those youthful years begin to melt away, frustration and panic kicks in and you have to switch your mindset. The word 'limitations' all of a sudden has a prominent baring on your mortal compass as we prepare to face the reality of being older and the impact a cancer diagnosis can have on both your body and mind. 

I consider myself one of those lucky buggers. I was raised by my parents to enjoy life to the full. My dads advice was "Edward, don't be sitting on your park bench when you are eighty and look back and say 'I wish I had just gone ahead and did that'. Give it a go." 

So, I never forgot that philosophy. Thanks dad.

Recently, I used to get angry at people who would tell you to grow old gracefully. Eh? Does that mean you have to put yourself out to graze and spend your last days on earth in Gods waiting rooms wondering when the inevitable last day will come? F*@k that!

For me, Enjoying life to the full is not a given right reserved only for the young. The current society we live in has become very youth and celebrity orientated and the influence on our young to be so called ‘perfect' has reached fever pitch.  Just look at the adverts on TV etc and the manipulation and constant reliance on social media producing influencers on a daily basis making their own videos and photographs, photoshopping themselves to look as perfect as possible.  I would love to see them take pics of themselves first thing in the morning, can you imagine what their followers would think without all the toffee and paste, pollyfiller and cement and plastic on their mugs etc. 

Anyway. We are all here for a very short period of time so I intend to fill those days as best I can. When I turned sixty I was still going to Ibiza to rave, I would run sand dunes across Irvine beach and cycle around the countryside playing my ukulele for charity. Hell, I even set up a new film production company, called the Ayrshire Film Company (remember, I have been a careers adviser for over thirty years) and had to develop a completely new set of skills in both film/media using my media experience gained on my very successful radio programme I had called The Careers Show. Starting to build a business from scratch with my much younger partner in the company Taylor Mcinroy, at the ripe old age of sixty was a fair old leap for me. But again I took on board my father’s philosophy, don’t regret not doing it when you are eighty years old. So, I did it.

Tell me, here is a question. is there some hidden rule book written somewhere telling you to stop living when you get older? 

Anyway, in the years before I was diagnosed with cancer, I had that mindset that I was ‘invincible’. But, Since being diagnosed on December 2016 and enduring a year of treatment to this day, my invincibility had been dented and I use that word strongly and not loosely. my physical and mental armour had taken a bit of a battering and there were times when I could have thrown in the towel and just gave in. but, that year has past and I have not only strengthened my resolve but I have added new skills to that armour. 

Since my diagnosis, I could probably describe the past twelve months as a time of phases.

Phase one. The shock.

I already had experienced the impact of cancer through my father and brother both being diagnosed with the same cancer and when one lucky night (for me and not my brother obviously) I visited my brother in hospital, a nurse casually said that I should be tested as it may be hereditary. It took me a day or two to decide whether to have the test as i had no symptoms and thought I was still in the invincible phase!

But, When the PSA blood test and the doctors inspection in my anus (one of the most embarrassing inspections a man can endure) it came back as positive tIt was then my armour began to rattle. Further tests came early 2017 and it was confirmed. I had prostate cancer.

Dealing with that news was probably one of the most difficult conversations I have ever had in my life. Mentally, I was distraught. Not sleeping. Grumpy. Confused.

For the first time my in my life my mortality was being questioned. 

Then they started hormone treatment and that only exacerbated things. I was in further shock.

And above me that dark cloud started to appear over my head.

Phase two. Confusion.

The summer of 2017 passed in a blur. A time when I normally come to life and enjoy the great outdoors, appeared to be slipping away from me. People around me changed. I noticed that whenever I mentioned I was suffering from cancer people found it difficult to converse. This made me feel alone and isolated. Cancer began to take its grip on me mentally and physically. The fog began to set in. A time when anything could have happened but for the strength of my close family in particular my wife Julie supporting me. Without them I would have been lost. That invincibility we have talked about in this chapter was now under scrutiny and at this stage I began to believe there may be no way out of it. 

Phase three. Getting to grips.

The onset of my radiotherapy believe it or not helped drag me out of that fog. Something was actually being done. For months I had been waiting to see if the hormone injections were working but this waiting was slowly dragging me down.

Now I had received a letter to attend my radiotherapy treatment at the Beatson. at last, something tangible was happening. That letter was a turning point. At least I could plan the next few weeks for a change and I felt that I was now part of something even though it was to attend a hospital for my cancer treatment. and The fight was now on.

That period of travelling to the Beatson was a life changer. There I was being driven to the hospital by Ayrshire Cancer Support volunteer drivers who had so much knowledge about cancer they were in some cases better informed than the nurses. And Meeting my fellow passengers who suffered from a variety of cancers and at various stages of treatments, really opened my eyes and meeting other fellow cancer sufferers within the hospital, where some were obviously in more advanced stages than me, really shook me up. I began to see that there were various levels of cancer and by listening to the people who had cancer and their carers both in the hospital cafe and treatment rooms made me realise how incredible the human psych is when your back is against the wall and staring death in the eye. 

"Hey, we have cancer so what else can we do? Just shrivel up and die?" One person said. For the first time I realised, I was not alone. Time to get off the pity boat.

I remember saying to a driver "Some of the people here are in really bad shape and I am nowhere near their level of condition." He replied " Eddy, everything is relevant. You are here to be treated so that your cancer does not reach that stage." Probably the best piece of advice I have ever received.

I began this journey feeling like I had lost my invincibility but my time travelling to the Beatson has oddly enough strengthened it. I realise that there are two types of invincibility: One...we are never 'life invincible' as our time on earth will inevitably stop but while you are living and breathing and have the spirit to take on life's ups and downs you have to sustain that notion of being invincible or you will never survive. 

..and so my journey continues....

This time last year (yes it is now January 2018 and how time flies) I was grappling with the dreadful news of being diagnosed with cancer. Shock, horror. Me? The fittest 63 year old who cycles everywhere and loves to rave in Ibiza? No way.

Was I deluded? Did I really think that I was invincible?

When you are young with fire in your belly, time means absolutely nothing to you but, when all those youthful years begin to melt away, frustration and panic kicks in and you have to switch your mindset. The word 'limitations' all of a sudden has a prominent baring on your mortal compass as we prepare to face the reality of being older and the impact this can have on both your body and mind.

I consider myself one of those lucky buggers. I was raised by my parents to enjoy life to the full. My dads advice when I was younger was "Edward, don't be sitting on your park bench when you are eighty and look back and say 'I wish I had just gone ahead and did that'. Give it a go."

So, I have been doing that.

Recently, I used to get angry at people who would tell you to grow old gracefully. Eh? Does that mean you have to put yourself out to graze and spend your last days on earth in Gods waiting rooms? Enjoying life to the full is not a God given right reserved only for the young. We are here for a very short period of time so fill those days as best you can. When I turned sixty I was still going to Ibiza to rave, run sand dunes and cycle around the countryside playing my ukulele for charity. Hell, I even set up a new film production company, (remember, I have been a careers adviser for nearly thirty years) and had to develop a completely new set of skills in both film/media and how to build a business from scratch, at the ripe old age of sixty.

Tell me, is there a hidden rule book written somewhere telling you to stop living at an older age? I think not. Social control can be a cruel thing. People eroding your invincibility. Get in your box Eddy! F..K off. Please.

Since being diagnosed on December 2016 and enduring a year of treatment to this day, my invincibility has admittedly been dented. Okey, my armour has taken a bit of a battering and there were times when I could have thrown in the towel but that year has not only strengthened my resolve but added to my armoury.

Since my diagnosis, I could probably describe the past twelve months as a time of phases.

Phase one. The shock.

I already had experienced the impact of cancer through my father and brother both being diagnosed with prostate cancer and when one lucky night (for me and not my brother obviously) I visited my brother in hospital, a nurse casually said that I should be tested as it may be hereditary. It took me a day or two to decide whether to have the test as i had no symptoms and there I was still in that pre cancer stage, the invincible phase!

When the PSA blood test and the doctors inspection in my anus (one of the most embarrassing inspections a man can endure) came back as positive then my armour began to rattle. Further tests came early 2017 and it was confirmed. I had cancer.

Dealing with that news was probably one of the most difficult conversations I have ever had in my life. Mentally, I was distraught. Not sleeping. Grumpy. Confused.

For the first time my mortality was being questioned.

Then they started hormone treatment and that only exacerbated things. I was in shock.

A dark cloud appeared above my head.

Phase two. Confusion.

The summer of 2017 passed in a blur. A time when I normally come to life and enjoy the great outdoors appeared to be slipping away from me. People around me changed. I noticed that whenever I mentioned I was suffering from cancer people found it difficult to converse. This made me feel alone and isolated. Cancer began to take its grip on me mentally and physically. The fog had set in. A time when anything could have happened but for the strength of my close family supporting me. Without them I would have been lost. My invincibility was under scrutiny and at this stage I began to believe there was no way out of it.

Phase three. Getting to grips.

The onset of my radiotherapy believe it or not helped drag me out of that fog. Something was actually being done. For months I had been waiting to see if the hormone injections were working but this waiting was slowly dragging me down.

But hurrah, or as I politely cried. Thank F..K. I received the letter to attend my treatment. Something was now happening. That letter was a turning point. At least I could plan the next few weeks for a change and I felt that I was now part of something even though it was to attend cancer treatment. The fight was on.

That period of travelling to the Beatson was a life changer. There I was being driven to the hospital by Ayrshire Cancer Support volunteer drivers who had so much knowledge about cancer they were in some cases better informed than the nurses. The fellow passengers, who suffered from a variety of cancers and at various stages really opened my eyes and meeting other fellow cancer sufferers within the hospital, where some were obviously in more advanced stages than me, really shook me. I began to see that there were various levels of cancer and by listening to the people who had cancer and their carers both in the cafe and treatment rooms made me realise how incredible the human psych can be when dealing with cancer.

"Hey, we have cancer so what else can we do? Just shrivel up and die?" One person said. For the first time I realised, I was not alone.

What struck me was the humour. There were. in my eyes, some really poor looking souls but when I got chatting, the laughter and tongue in cheek quips made me ashamed of my negative thoughts. Having a laugh and some dressing room style banter lifted that cloud above my head. The Beatson has got it right. The buzz and camaraderie was encouraged by all staff, patients and carers. If you could bottle it up and release it to the ordinary world outside, my, the world would be a better place.

I remember saying to a driver "Some of the people here are in really bad shape and I am nowhere near their level of condition." He replied " Eddy, everything is relevant. You are here to be treated so that your cancer does not reach that stage." The best piece of advice I have ever received.

I began this journey feeling like I had lost my invincibility but my time travelling to the Beatson has oddly enough strengthened it. I realise that there are two types of invincibility: One...we are never 'life invincible' as our time on earth will inevitably stop but while you are living and breathing and have the spirit to take on life's ups and downs you have to sustain that notion of being invincible or you will never survive.

The journey continues....