As some of you will be aware via one of my STW posts, I managed to tweak an ankle ligament getting into bed. Despite the humorous nature of the injury, it has proved a pain in the arse to fix.
Except now I have a secret weapon. Her name is Anne. And she is my physio.
People like Anne are a rare bred – helpful, passionate about there trade, and able to manipulate (read ‘guide’) pig-headed stubborn individuals into doing what they want using enthusiasm, a smile and logic. I am a PE teacher, and whilst these skills should be part of my repertoire I sadly must confess that they are not. Unfortunately my success is based on a mixture of harrassment, cajolling and sarcasm, all of which allows me to maintain a fairly high success rate, either as a coach or as a teacher. But I’ve always envied people with the gentle touch – those that can get you to do what you don’t want to do and then make you think you did all along and that it was your idea. If you follow.
I have a pathological fear of crutches. I cannot use them, and often have refused in the past, preferring to make the public feel uncomfortable and threatened by clumping past them in an ungainly fashion, muttering and cursing under my breath whilst demonstrating a voracious bead. Despite the inelegant nature of this method of locomotion, I found it preferable to stumping around on aluminium, although the cursing and muttering was maintained.
Anne (in her wisdom) has encouraged me to use this most reviled form of transportation, albeit against my wishes. And like all good professionals, Anne was right. My ankle feels good, although still a little tender, and I took part in the L2B on Sunday in order to get back into the swing of things.
So all praise to Anne. Best physio I’ve ever had. Plus it turns out she can ride a bike so much better that I can its not funny.
To the guy at work that line-manages me; a few things..
- Telling a man who’s just had open heart surgery, chemo and been told that his cancer is incurable that you ‘have to look out for number one, so you’re on your own’ makes you a coward.
- It also means that you lack integrity, compassion, bottle and the ability to lead
- I took one big-style for you last year, and you never knew about it. A member of the SLT commented on your inability to manage a certain NQT effectively. I told him it was inappropriate to talk to me about it, and when he pushed the matter, I told him to fuck off and not test my loyalty. That is what being part of a team means.
- You and I have talked at length about our respective childhoods – how your old man abandoned you and your mother, and how you were different.
Really? Honestly? Or maybe a chip of the ole block eh?
When I look in the mirror, I see a scared but determined meathead, who pisses folk off sometimes but would never sell anyone out to get up the ladder.
I wonder what you see?
I’m referring to my legs.
The treatment I currently receive is designed to strengthen the bones with tumours in them. More specifically;
Bisphosphonates target the areas of higher bone turnover. The osteoclast cells absorb the bisphosphonate drug, which slows down their activity and reduces bone destruction.
There are several different types of bisphosphonates, and they each work slightly differently. Doctors are still learning more about the exact ways in which bisphosphonates work. We know that they can
- Interfere with the formation of osteoclasts
- Make osteoclasts self destruct, or die early
- Change the signalling between osteoclasts and osteoblasts
- Form a barrier between the bone and the osteoclast
Researchers have found that bisphosphonates can prevent or slow down the development of myeloma and secondary bone cancers in some people. Cancer cells appear to be attracted to an environment where bones are being broken down. Researchers hope that stopping this process could slow the growth of cancer and help people live longer, as well as reducing bone damage.
So to be fair, who am I to criticise? It’s all good, yeah?
No. It kicks like a mule. Big style.
The night and day following treatment are fucking mental with regards to aching. Nothing during my chemo was as bad as this. I ache, my legs stop working, my head pounds like a drum, my temperature fluctuates on a fairly epic level. It’s just shite. You know what? Wiping my bum hurts. Actually hurts.
Despite this, I managed to get out on the bike with ma soeur on Sunday. Very little mileage achieved, but it put a smile on our faces which can’t be a bad thing. Roll on L2B next week?
Sub 2 1/2 hours anyone?
Place your bets purlease…!
Chance’d be a fine thing.
I fucking hate the bollocks protocols that have to be followed at work. I’ve just had to cancel a dance competition for over a thousand kids due to some pedantic ‘jobs-worth’ in the hierarchy claiming that I hadn’t followed procedure. I’m not allowed on site due to the school screaming health and safety over my illness, so how am I supposed to follow fucking procedure? Eh? EH?
Up at the Marsden, wired up to a machine that’s filling me with some toxic crap that’ll have me shaking like a shitting dog in around twelve hours time. On the plus side, Mark from STW has just offered to send me and the other Bullheartettes some jerseys to wear for the JOGLE.
So my technique is shit, but my shizzle will be schmoooove…
Forgive me. Its the drugs talking….
Need some new 29er forks, as for some reason I’ve managed to put a crease in the Peace’s rigids. Any ideas? Answers on a postcard…
Ever since I got ill things appear to be more vivid in colour.
Greens especially. The tree’s, bushes, plants etc. I drive to work through Edenbridge, Westerham, and into Biggin Hill, and I can’t believe how vivid the greenery is.
Poetic moment over.
The cycling is not happening at the moment. As much as I’d like to be out and about, my bizarre ligament/gout injuries seem to be propelling my mood downwards at a fairly astonishing rate. I really really need to get out and start accumulating the miles. My sister has buggered her knee – ligament damage apparently – and it feels like we’re treading water at the moment.
Tomorrow I’ll take a bike into work and see if I can get a ride in during the day. I’m sure that risking death and serous injury on the capital’s highways will blow the cobwebs away…
In the meantime, love the bollocks on my 29er…
This is the new Bullheart blog. There will eventually be a website to go with it, but for now this will be used to document the adventures of a man, his wife, a dog, an oncology team, some friends and about thirteen bikes in a shed. The best way to catch up with all that has happened up until now is to read my post below;
My user-name on the STW forum is petesgaff.
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