Good crack

It’s been quite an eventful week.

I was released from hospital on Wednesday, just in time to enjoy a BBQ and a game of boules in the garden back home. I also fancied a new look so called my stylist round to get to work – as you can see from the pictures, I’ve gone for a more rugged look, channelling my inner Pie Face.

 

Getting my hair shaved off was a good laugh, but it’s also a practicality. Better to have my girlfriend Emily buzz it than to wake up with half of it lying on the pillow!

 

A word of advice: my mum’s been good for lots of things, but don’t trust her with a razor after half a bottle of wine. (In the end I decided that no sideburns was better than one – not that I had a choice).

Brace yourselves, this next bit contains scenes of nudity and is rated 18. The pathways for chemotherapy delivery are wide and varied: I’ve had it orally, intravenously, and this week, intra-bum-ily. I believe that’s the technical term.

Good, reliable bike rack. One careful owner.

I lay face down on the bed with my pants down and my little raisin arse on show to the world. My bum was numbed with a cold spray, and I waited for three seconds. Two nurses, attending to one bum cheek each, then simultaneously jabbed my rear end. They even treated the affected area to a brief massage afterwards. I do not believe there was any medical reason for doing this, but it was rather nice.

 

I don’t just have affections for the female members of staff – I’ve been getting on very well with one of the male doctors. Being a Fulham fan, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knows his stuff and we’ve struck up a bit of a bromance. The other day, he did a ‘sensation test’ on me to ensure there were no numb patches on my face. This involved him gently caressing various areas of my face, finishing with a brief stroke of my nose. It was cute – we had a moment.

Later that week, the same guy took me down for an MRI scan as I was having quite severe headaches, and there were concerns I might have a blood clot on my brain. We waited anxiously for him to return with the results, and when he did, he said he had good news and bad news. We braced ourselves, and opted for the good news first. There was no blood clot, he said. And the bad news? I’ve got a really tiny brain. The bastard.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in hospital, it’s that things can change quite quickly. Two days after getting home and enjoying boules, BBQ and buzz cut, I went straight back in with further headaches. A scan showed that this time there really was a blood clot on my brain. Treatment has already begun, and it involves anticoagulants to thin my blood and in turn dissolve the clot. From butt-rub to blood clot – hospital life eh?

I’d like to extend a big thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has read my blog and signed up to the Anthony Nolan register. I’ve had an incredible 16,000 views on the blog, and 210 people signed up to the Anthony Nolan register within the first weekend of me posting. Comedian Jack Whitehall has kindly shared it with his 5m followers, and Sir Matthew Pinsent and Everton Football Club have done so too.

In case you missed it, I’ve posted a video below on how to sign up and what’s involved – it’s super easy and painless. And if you were thinking about signing up but didn’t get round to it, please consider doing so now as it is World Blood Cancer Day!

 

Spit and Save

May I just start this blog by apologising for not keeping people as up to date as I should have. My last blog was written on March 14^th 2014 and needless to say a lot has happened in my life since then.

You may remember that two years ago I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia- a condition I could barely pronounce, let alone understand. I wrote a few blog posts outlining my disease and how I was coping with the treatment, with a few funny anecdotes along the way.

Blog 1- Curveball         Blog 2- Gas

A lot has happened since. I came off intensive treatment, moved back home, and began ‘maintenance’ chemotherapy, a lower-dose form. I was getting back on with my day to day life – I started back at university in Glasgow, and picked up a few new hobbies, including golf, cooking, and pretending to study. I met loads more fantastic pals, reconnected with all my friends from my short time in first year, whilst keeping in touch with mates back in London. And yes, I still support Everton – someone has to!

Everton blue in my veins!

Unfortunately, last month, on Tuesday 26^th April, I received some pretty devastating news. I relapsed and the leukaemia had returned, albeit only in my spinal fluid and not in the bone marrow.

Nonetheless, it will still require another battle. Unfortunately for the leukaemia, it is a battle that I am willing to fight tooth and nail to win. The treatment will be similar to last time, however with the addition of a bone marrow transplant.

‘Tropical juice 2.0’

I have been in hospital well over a week now and without running the risk of sounding like a seasoned veteran, I am pleased to say that there are several familiar faces still at the Royal Marsden in Sutton. With the addition of a few new ones accompanying the already very friendly nursing staff that help treat me, I must say it has softened the blow

of having to re-visit somewhat. Being able to chat to the nurses like they are your friends reduces the sense that I am actually in hospital and makes for a great laugh! Lovely to see them, shame about the circumstances.

Sadly, I don’t think they’re as pleased to see me! My uncle brought a plastic cockroach down from Glasgow as he came to visit last week – a big, hairy, scary, purple thing – and it’s been cropping up all over the ward, to the terror of the nurses. As one of them came over to hook me up to a drip for the umpteenth time, I placed it on my arm. She wasn’t best pleased!

The cockroach in question

Half the battle comes from staying in hospital for so long, and I was relieved to be told I could pop out into the car park for some fresh air this week. My uncle interpreted the phrase “car park” with some artistic licence, and decided we should take a visit to the local pub. There I was, kicking back in the beer garden with an ice cold coke and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps when, of course, I was spotted by a member of off-duty staff. “Neiiillll!” she shouted over with a confused look on her face. Busted!

On a more serious note, the bone marrow transplant means I need to find a donor in order to save my life. I always thought that signing up for a donor register of any sort would mean I’d get dragged into a hospital and come out with one less lung or kidney. Bone marrow transplant, I’ve learnt, is nothing of the sort – and I’d love for you to consider signing up to donate yours.

A common misconception is that donating bone marrow is painful. There’s a great video narrated by Steve Coogan below which can explain all of this better than I can, but in essence, there are three, incredibly simple steps, which will help to save a life, possibly mine. Think how many drinks I’d owe you!

• Sign up to the Anthony Nolan register *here*, and spit in a pot. Yes, it really is as simple as that.
• You’ll get added to the database, and then you wait. And wait, until they find someone in need of a transplant who matches your tissue type.
• If you are matched with someone, you’re given injections to increase your bone marrow production. Nine times out of ten, you’re then hooked up to a machine, and those excess bone marrow cells are collected from your blood and given to someone who needs them – like me!

Even if you’re not a match for me, you could help save someone else’s life.

The Anthony Nolan charity, which runs the main bone marrow register and organises the transplants, do a fantastic job, the importance of which cannot be underestimated.

So it’s a heartfelt plea from myself in my hour of need. I honestly would not be able to thank you enough and it really would mean so much, to me and others in a similar position.

Yours,

Neil McClean

The link to the Anthony Nolan homepage: