Update on oggbashan's health

If the other people having chemotherapy knew? They'll kill me.

I was offered - again - pills for nausea. I still have, unopened, the set of pills I was given after the first session. Today was my fourth.

But I took my wife to a restaurant for her birthday meal. I washed it down with a pint of Stella Artois. Many of my fellow sufferers can barely manage a dry biscuit and sips of water.

I've lost several family members who had severe side effects from the chemo. Positive thoughts that yours continues to go well.:rose:
 
I've lost several family members who had severe side effects from the chemo. Positive thoughts that yours continues to go well.:rose:

My brother had two sessions of chemotherapy and his only side effect was he'd be tired for half a day. But the third? he was vomiting relentlessly. He decided to stop and changed to trying to empty his wine cellar. He survived for another year in a happy alcoholic haze but left half the wine cellar to his widow and children.

He had intended that the remains of his wine cellar should be drunk at his funeral feast. His village disagreed. They provided so much free drink that even with 600 people drinking all afternoon and evening they still had several dozen bottles of wine and four full beer barrels left, and the whole village had a hangover the following morning. The Women's Institute did the catering and the village lived on the remainder for several days afterwards.
 
Back from five hours of boring chemotherapy. I don't like sitting in one place for that long. I need to get up and move around, and with a cannula and line to a machine - I can't.

Except for the slight prick when they insert the line I feel nothing and have no side effects except thinning of hair in my beard and my bald spot has grown.

But it is boring...

Yes it is boring. My father re-read all of his Tom Clancy novels and most of one of his other favorite authors, whose name escapes me at the moment, but he also writes books that give encyclopedias a run for their money in length.

My mother was his driver and she took up crochet again. By the time he was labelled cancer free, she had crocheted over 5,000 hats for cancer patients. A side effect of the chemotherapy drugs is not just the hair loss, but body temperature regulation is often messed up and they feel cold all the time. Hats help because 40% of the heat loss occurs from the head.

Boredom is good. It means that your mind is still active and you are still sleeping on the correct side of the grass.

Best wishes that the rest of your treatments go well.

James
 
I normally wear a Chicago Bulls 1998 NBA champions baseball cap that my eldest daughter brought back from when she was working in Chicago. I also have a Russian Foxtrot submarine baseball cap.

My other hats are a bit OTT:

A Canadian Mounties Hat

A Australian Army slouch hat

A Turkish Fez

A maroon beret

I don't have my cake on head hat any more as seen in my AV. I passed it on to my successor as Henry VIII but a neighbour has offered to make me a replica.

A grey Top Hat

A black bowler
 
That's quite a collection of hats. With such an eclectic mix it sounds like each one has some meaning to you.

Also, from a previous message, I hope that Queen Bashan had a happy birthday.
 
I normally wear a Chicago Bulls 1998 NBA champions baseball cap that my eldest daughter brought back from when she was working in Chicago. I also have a Russian Foxtrot submarine baseball cap.

My other hats are a bit OTT:

A Canadian Mounties Hat

A Australian Army slouch hat

A Turkish Fez

A maroon beret

I don't have my cake on head hat any more as seen in my AV. I passed it on to my successor as Henry VIII but a neighbour has offered to make me a replica.

A grey Top Hat

A black bowler

That's quite a collection of hats. With such an eclectic mix it sounds like each one has some meaning to you.

Also, from a previous message, I hope that Queen Bashan had a happy birthday.

Canadian Mounties hat: Closest to the Australian Scout's hat I wore back in England when on duty as a car park attendant for a Buckingham Palace Garden Party. I also wore my 24 inch razor sharp Wilkinson Sword machete which I carried as the winner of a Bushman's Thong. I promised, on Scout's Honour, not to take it out of its sheath. Most of the other Scouts were English and all wearing sheath knives but my machete was seen as more threatening.

Australian Army Slouch hat: Souvenir of my Australian School's Cadet Force who trained with Lee-Enfields, Owen submachine guns, Vickers machine guns, mortars and a few artillery pieces. Since my time they have acquired a few tanks...

Turkish Fez - swapped at a Scout Jamboree with a Turkish Scout for my green scout beret.

Maroon Beret: given to me by Royal Marine Commandos for completing their assault course - as a civilian - in a faster time than most Royal Marines and also for beating their record for circumnavigation of an island by going sideways around the cliffs without ropes or touching the base or the top of the cliffs. The previous Marine record was 28 minutes. I did it in 13.

Grey Top Hat: to go with my tailed morning suit at my daughters' weddings.

Black Bowler: Relic of my time as a civil servant in the Admiralty based in royal dockyards. I had to wear a hat when boarding any HM ship and doff it to the quarterdeck until 1965 when the requirement was replaced by a nod. In 1965 I had left my Bowler at home when I went to sea for a fortnight. I was wearing a disreputable trilby. When the regulation was changed I ceremonially disposed of the trilby into the Irish Sea.
 
What is the difference between a Trilby and a Fedora ?


fedora_trilby2_989.png
 
Canadian Mounties hat: Closest to the Australian Scout's hat I wore back in England when on duty as a car park attendant for a Buckingham Palace Garden Party. I also wore my 24 inch razor sharp Wilkinson Sword machete which I carried as the winner of a Bushman's Thong. I promised, on Scout's Honour, not to take it out of its sheath. Most of the other Scouts were English and all wearing sheath knives but my machete was seen as more threatening.

Australian Army Slouch hat: Souvenir of my Australian School's Cadet Force who trained with Lee-Enfields, Owen submachine guns, Vickers machine guns, mortars and a few artillery pieces. Since my time they have acquired a few tanks...

Turkish Fez - swapped at a Scout Jamboree with a Turkish Scout for my green scout beret.

Maroon Beret: given to me by Royal Marine Commandos for completing their assault course - as a civilian - in a faster time than most Royal Marines and also for beating their record for circumnavigation of an island by going sideways around the cliffs without ropes or touching the base or the top of the cliffs. The previous Marine record was 28 minutes. I did it in 13.

Grey Top Hat: to go with my tailed morning suit at my daughters' weddings.

Black Bowler: Relic of my time as a civil servant in the Admiralty based in royal dockyards. I had to wear a hat when boarding any HM ship and doff it to the quarterdeck until 1965 when the requirement was replaced by a nod. In 1965 I had left my Bowler at home when I went to sea for a fortnight. I was wearing a disreputable trilby. When the regulation was changed I ceremonially disposed of the trilby into the Irish Sea.
Thank you for sharing. You did not disappoint in that you had a story for every hat. Some of those experiences are easier to picture than others and some have more emotion than others, but each story, like each hat is different. As it should be.
 
Australian Army Slouch hat: Souvenir of my Australian School's Cadet Force who trained with Lee-Enfields, Owen submachine guns, Vickers machine guns, mortars and a few artillery pieces. Since my time they have acquired a few tanks...

You've reminded me of my father's tale of a classmate in a similar school who managed to get excused from Cadets, normally compulsory, after an unfortunate accident (?) that convinced the instructors he shouldn't be anywhere near a machine gun.
 
You've reminded me of my father's tale of a classmate in a similar school who managed to get excused from Cadets, normally compulsory, after an unfortunate accident (?) that convinced the instructors he shouldn't be anywhere near a machine gun.

The schools Cadet Force wasn't compulsory but if you were classed 'efficient', which 99% were, you could avoid two years compulsory National Service only needing to attend for an annual fortnight's refresher and a few evenings a year. If you opted to do National Service anyway, you kept your cadet force rank and could be promoted.

Shortly after my time, many of my ex-school cadet force members were in Vietnam.
 
Canadian Mounties hat: Closest to the Australian Scout's hat I wore back in England when on duty as a car park attendant for a Buckingham Palace Garden Party. I also wore my 24 inch razor sharp Wilkinson Sword machete which I carried as the winner of a Bushman's Thong. I promised, on Scout's Honour, not to take it out of its sheath. Most of the other Scouts were English and all wearing sheath knives but my machete was seen as more threatening.

Australian Army Slouch hat: Souvenir of my Australian School's Cadet Force who trained with Lee-Enfields, Owen submachine guns, Vickers machine guns, mortars and a few artillery pieces. Since my time they have acquired a few tanks...

Turkish Fez - swapped at a Scout Jamboree with a Turkish Scout for my green scout beret.

Maroon Beret: given to me by Royal Marine Commandos for completing their assault course - as a civilian - in a faster time than most Royal Marines and also for beating their record for circumnavigation of an island by going sideways around the cliffs without ropes or touching the base or the top of the cliffs. The previous Marine record was 28 minutes. I did it in 13.

Grey Top Hat: to go with my tailed morning suit at my daughters' weddings.

Black Bowler: Relic of my time as a civil servant in the Admiralty based in royal dockyards. I had to wear a hat when boarding any HM ship and doff it to the quarterdeck until 1965 when the requirement was replaced by a nod. In 1965 I had left my Bowler at home when I went to sea for a fortnight. I was wearing a disreputable trilby. When the regulation was changed I ceremonially disposed of the trilby into the Irish Sea.

As always, Ogg, you have the most interesting stories which is why so many here are wishing the best for you. Reading about your hats reminded me of one of my favorite Britcoms "Are You Being Served". Of course like much of Brit society things had to follow a rigid hierarchy so it depended on your position on what type of hat you were allowed to wear. To an American it was beyond bizarre and I'm guessing things may have relaxed some by now. Make sure you stay upright until you can polish off your wine collection, at the least.
 
As always, Ogg, you have the most interesting stories which is why so many here are wishing the best for you. Reading about your hats reminded me of one of my favorite Britcoms "Are You Being Served". Of course like much of Brit society things had to follow a rigid hierarchy so it depended on your position on what type of hat you were allowed to wear. To an American it was beyond bizarre and I'm guessing things may have relaxed some by now. Make sure you stay upright until you can polish off your wine collection, at the least.

By the 1960s most Englishmen didn't wear hats, hence the change in Admiralty instructions for boarding ships. In HM Dockyards up to the 1950s the workers wore flat caps and the foremen wore bowlers. The clerical staff wore top hats until 1939. One of my predecessors in my post had bought an open Bentley from a bankrupt after the stock exchange crash. As an officer in the Civil Service his pay wasn't affected - then. One of his staff, who had learned to drive in the Army in WW1, used to drive him to work as he sat in the back, wearing a frock coat, top hat, and with his hands resting on a silver topped cane.

By my time, things were less formal. Hanging up in the office was 'the hat' borrowed by anyone of the staff who had to go onboard an HM ship. It was a much battered and misshapen trilby that was doffed to the quarterdeck and then stuffed in a pocket. I also had a white protective helmet - used by officers only. The workers wore yellow ones; the foremen blue ones. All had the Admiralty foul anchor badge on front. I wore the protective hat to visit any ship in the hands of the dockyard.
 
More hats...

At my primary school in London I had to wear a school cap. When my parents moved to Gibraltar the uniform hat for both sexes in summer was a cotton sunbonnet that I hated. In winter the boys wore a school cap and the girls a straw boater. At boarding school back in England I had yet another school cap adorned with sports team colours because although I was very junior I was heavy enough for the first Rugby XV.

In Australia, the sixth (and last form before university) wore lightweight two-piece suits, a school tie and a trilby with a hatband in the school colours, unless you were a sportsman when you could continue wearing a blazer with the sports colours around your pocket and on the school cap. The school regulations insisted that you wore the hat (or cap) when entering or leaving the school. If the temperature reached 100 degrees F you were allowed to take your jacket off; if 105, your tie as well. For my final examinations we were in a glass-roofed hall and the temperature reached 108. We were allowed to dress how we liked.
 
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Something that may be relative to your situation

I got the latest issue of the New Yorker magazine yesterday, and found an essay there that might be of some interest to you. It was entitled "77 Sunset Me" (although the title for the on-line version is "The Art of Dying") and was written by Peter Schjeldahl, a critic who finds that he has a short time to live.

It's not a new story for you, of course, and it isn't a new story for the other fifty million or so who will be dying in the coming year. But I don't think I've read anything so insightful about the process of coming to terms with it. Schjeldahl is mostly concerned with how wrong he had been about what he thought he'd be experiencing, and how different the reality is. A sample:

"Death is like painting rather than sculpture, because it's seen from only one side. Monochrome--like the mausoleum-gray former Berlin Wall glamorized with graffiti. That's what I'm trying to do here.

"Swatted a fly the other day and thought, Outlived you.

If you're interested, the URL is:

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2019/12/23/the-art-of-dying
 
I am more inclined to Dylan Thomas:

Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
 
My own poem...

Farewell

So what if I am about to die?
I have lived my life and that’s no lie.

I have tried to help my fellow man,
doing what and when I can

Sometimes I have failed, it’s true
Perhaps I had no effect on you.

But I live to the last without regret
Remembering the best til I forget

When I’ve gone, remember me
Until you too cease to be.
 
Farewell

So what if I am about to die?
I have lived my life and that’s no lie.

I have tried to help my fellow man,
doing what and when I can

Sometimes I have failed, it’s true
Perhaps I had no effect on you.

But I live to the last without regret
Remembering the best til I forget

When I’ve gone, remember me
Until you too cease to be.

Lovely, but true pathos.

It reminds me of Purcell/Tate, too, of Dido’s Lament:
When I am laid in earth, may my wrongs create no trouble in thy breast.
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
 
Except for the slight prick when they insert the line I feel nothing
But it is boring...

My Goodness, Ogg, you are definitely to be applauded for sitting patiently for five hours with a small prick.

Loved the hat stories, and the poem :heart::rose:
 
Not a good day. I slept badly until about 8.30 am then back to sleep to 11. Once up I was very wobbly and eyesight bad - can barely see the screen even with glasses and eyepatch. This is a reaction to chemotherapy.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Without spellcheck I couldn't even post this.
 
Not a good day. I slept badly until about 8.30 am then back to sleep to 11. Once up I was very wobbly and eyesight bad - can barely see the screen even with glasses and eyepatch. This is a reaction to chemotherapy.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Without spellcheck I couldn't even post this.

sounds like a good day to rest. :rose: :heart::heart:
 
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