Not on Time...But in Rhyme!

I’m reminded of the boring nights when I filled my time

Writing notes and letters in rhyme.

I thought it would be fun putting problems in prose

When at other times it would get up my nose.

And what better way to keep the brain

Alert and tweaked and better sane.





I once wrote a page, or two in rhyme

About my uniform, issued that day,

Just in time to wear it, to the USA.

I found my box with name and rank

Near the top of the pile,

You see Copley begins with C

Under Arkwright and Bennett, but on top of D.





Was I to strut the office with chest puffed with pride?

My body transformed by finely cut cloth

Or would I be a figure of fun?

“Does my bum look big?” Forgive the pun!

I was now standing there for all to scoff.





So, my uniform prose ranted on for a while

About fitting and size let alone the style.

It went like this… a snippet for you





“Was it a thirty-six short, or a forty-two long?

It was measured for sure so it couldn’t be wrong

When buttoned I could hide a size 8 Cabin Crew

In the space inside… just in case I grew?

But my sleeves were adorned with my four stripes of pride

Serving to give me a warm feeling inside

Perfect I thought, at least these aren’t wrong

Until I noticed one sleeve was too long

And alas on inspection there’s a vacant blue scene

Where once I knew a button had been”

etc.







I think it’s now stashed in the loft

Along with two others, of memories aloft.

Hanging around, now three sizes too large

Tucked in the corner for no one to see

But who knows for certain where it might be?

In the dark no doubt with my ‘travellers toot’,

You know, the stuff you bring home from a trip

Only to find there’s no place for it.

Chinese fans that looked great in Kowloon…

But at three foot wide can take over a room!

So it’s up in the loft where the memories go

The bad silk shirts and stuff for the boys

Travellers trophies and those must have toys.



You bored yet?



There’s more to come if you can keep up the pace

Of birthdays done and body scans won…well sort of!

My 50th went well… so I’m told.

Dancers danced and beer monsters ruled

Chocolate fountained, with excellent food.

White haired and sober (I know, it’s a shame)

I had a great time seeing you all again.

So let’s keep in touch, 34 years is too long

My diary’s empty for wine, women and song!

And…

My health is good… thanks for waiting this long.



A Festive wish:





May your Christmas bring you your wishes.

Good Health and Happiness to you all.

Merry Christmas Everyone



Richard

Old Guys Rule!

"Are you sure?"

Missing in this months’ blog are:

• Two extended charity cycle rides of 60 and 25 miles
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/Copleyphotos/Cycling#
• The first Motorhome holiday
http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/Copleyphotos/CopleysOnTheRoad2010#
• The School trip (how not to lose kids(slipperymonsters))
• Pilates for the ambitious middle aged male

At last the house is empty this morning and I can get to the computer. At anytime however in the afternoon I could hear the front door open and my eldest, Daniel flake into the house, absent of lessons that afternoon and, dropping his bag just inside the door collapses into this very chair to check up on his virtual social life via Facebook. It’s tough being an A-Level student because I know in five minutes time he’ll also have to get up and move to get out the box of Pringles from the kitchen and start to demolish the contents. Perhaps a grunt or two will pass as conversation but the computer is in his possession now and it’s every teenager’s right to have control when they are free of the shackels of school. Challenging this status inevitably will lead to confrontation as this is obviously a homework issue and Facebook was a momentary aberration in his workflow. And no doubt when his brother gets in the challenge and response (argument) for control of the electronic social networking sites will continue until the referee is either summoned or attracted by the raised voices. No “goal line” technology required here, just an impartial review of the relevant information and who plays the “homework” card best. But why the fights? God only knows because I’m fortunate enough to be sitting next to a second computer with exactly the same speed and programming but… there will always be an excuse. Welcome to parenthood to those who aren’t benefiting from teenagers.


As I fast approach my fiftieth birthday (check out the reminder birthday invite attached to your email) perhaps it is time for reflection. Don’t worry I’m not going to hit you with any heavy insights and reflections…at least I don’t intend to at this point!
Am I growing old gracefully? Life they say now begins at 55 not 40. Considering the average life expectancy at the turn of the century (1900) was 46 years, it must have been a bit of a bummer cramming all that fun into six years! Today with our national health being better (with the odd exception) we live on to old age just getting grumpier at our surroundings and those irritating things around us called “people”. Do we find that our tolerance gets whittled away to nothing as we approach our mature years? There are no doubt many reasons I’m sure but I am no physcologist and will not attempt to explain away our little nuances and irritants. Perhaps we learn to tolerate that which we cannot change but when something comes along out of the ordinary we react. For sure under this laconic, calm and collected exterior of mine must lie a grouchy old man waiting to get out. For example:

Recently I have taken the Chief Constable of Essex and the CEO of Tesco to task for an incident. Now I have time on my hands I feel that I can treat this as more of a hobby than a rant about injustice. I researched the correct titles and names of officials, their correct addresses, any previous recorded events of similar incidents etc etc.. Then on quality paper and envelopes and only just shying clear of using my Captain prefix by a whisker (I’m told it looks good!?), letting the evidence and the power of the almighty word do its magic. Ok, so what has Copley been up to? NOTHING… that’s just the point!

The brief version…I hope!

I filled up my car with petrol at a Tesco Express ,together with a few groceries. The total amount for fuel charged was to be taken by credit card and was notified verbally by the cashier before the standard transaction was made. One hour later a police car with two officers called on me to inquire why I had driven off without paying. Incredulous, I get the receipt which has indeed omitted the fuel. Tescos had reported me as a “Drive Off”… a criminal offence. Now, how is this for coincidence? I have just taken a call from the Inspector conducting the investigation and he has successfully managed to appease this grumpy, defamed old man. He informed me that Tescos had intimated in their call that I may have deliberately distracted their cashier by talking to him and confusing him in the process. Perhaps we live in a soft world but when does a common courtesy of perhaps a ten second conversation as how much fuel my Voyager takes, become a criminal intent to defraud Tescos? Anyhow, the Chief Constable, through the district Chief Inspector has revised the Standard Operating Procedures for these types of Drive Offs with his staff and will speak to Tescos accordingly about wasting their time in such obvious civil matters. Other avenues are available to them via the DVLA and civil action but it is evidently Tesco policy to report every drive off and see if the police bite! I await the Chief Inspectors letter and then will turn my attention again to Sir Terry Leahy, Tesco CEO. Me grouchy? Na, just incensed at being labelled a thief for Tescos commercial gain.
Let the battle of letters continue with any “smoothing of waters” from Tescos being in the form of a charitable donation to a charity of my choice. Once I smell blood!


Talking of blood…tenuous link#1

I am pleased to inform you all that my health is going well. The CT scan and MRI have shown that many of the small tumours in my head have completely disappeared, with the rest shrinking. I get the feeling they (the doctors) were not expecting such a result and are more than happy that the combined radio and chemo therapies are complementing each other. The rest of my poisoned body is of little interest with stability being the key word. So all told, a great result.

Thank you all for your continued support it is still very much appreciated.

Don’t forget my Birthday Bash coming up on the 6 November if you can all make it. As the T-shirt says “Old Guys Rule”.

Richard

Grouchy of Essex

Summer and Slimmer

Slimmer and Fitter?

Well here I am having just had the results of my last 3 month scan. It’s been an interesting few months of medication changes following various bouts of fatigue, nausea and "bottom stuff". By far the most irritating problem is the fatigue. Just waking up was getting to be a problem let alone exercise. But we pushed on through the side effects of my cancer drugs with a break or two to facilitate a recovery and here we are in one piece just in time for the summer.

Once again I seem to co-ordinate my weight loss and “puffy free” physique with better weather. My skin tone has taken a thrashing this year with the radiation and chemo and I can now take the opportunity to add a bit of colour to give the impression of good health at least. For years I had been telling friends and family that my olive coloured permatan was an occupational hazard of being sent off to such places as Australia, Singapore, Africa and the Carribean. Somebody had to do the job after all! However, I seem to have lost my occupationally acquired protection from the sun’s rays. I know at this very moment you are all close to tears, sympathising with my hard work life with the airlines. This very ethic of perfect colour tone, achieved by thoroughness and perseverance, was never easy when added to other the decisions expected of me, perhaps the I hardest of which being which beer to poison myself with. It was often a tough decision, taken with care and attention. For instance: Drinking during the course of a hot day often lead to amnesia by teatime and the inevitability of missing of the evening entertainment due to being unconscious, exhausted from the day’s imbibing. If however you made it back to your room (the number of which eludes you as it is the sixth room of the month) you will invariably need to change pretty smartish to make it back to the bar for Happy Hour. Two for one drinks makes far too much sense, especially when the crew believe it was their right to be bought drinks by the tight fisted Captain. I’ve even known a couple of bottles of champagne being bought as this was cheaper than a round of drinks in the hotel. This charitable act was often however a oneway alcohol traffic scenario with a thoroughly dis-proportionate ratio of beer coming back to you. But it made for good management of staff resources. Some of my colleagues however, failed to relate to this technique and missed some great parties, not to mention gaining a verbal pasting from the crew-room malcontents eager to label you as an unsociable party pooping skin flint. You may be a talented pilot, but what does that count for if you never stand a round at the bar for the crew?... It’s so easy to offend 18 year olds! Actually to fully digress, BEER! A subject close to my heart but one that is still illusive in my diet because it isn't my heart it affects!

I have been briefed over the years in the benefits of both bottle and glass delivery. Faced with the option many would go for the bottle, as it would seem a more “personal“ delivery system after all. But in many countries the empty bottles lay unwashed out the back of the bar amongst the wildlife and never get the cleaning they deserve before being refilled. Many a happily drowned and now pickled creepy crawly has found its way down the neck of the bottle before being gagged on. As we motorcyclists say when a bug hits the back of your throat doing 70mph, do you spit or swallow? So, obviously the glass option is better. Well… if I may offer this question, “when was the last time you saw a dishwasher at a beach bar?” You chose! Now that I have totally freaked you out should I mention that the preservatives they add to beer in warm climates is guaranteed to give you the most amazing headache way before a hangover is deserved. That’s settled then…Take your spirits neat but DON’T HAVE THE ICE! …that’s a whole different story! Why do pilots carry prescribable drugs for Gastroenteritis?

Needless to say NO ONE takes liberties with alcohol way before a flight is due to be operated unless you count the hotel cashier with your weeks’ bar bill!…Just thought I’d make that clear to Mr. CAA…Sir.

Now, talking of both booze and money.

It’s that time of the year again folks when I punish myself for being ill and try and do something good for charity. As usual I support the Royal Marsden Cancer Campaign. This year I am only able to complete the one charity task and that is the 60 mile London to Southend Cycle Ride on Sunday 18 July. Together with a few friends to encourage and support me (and vice versa) we aim to raise if possible, a thousand pounds in sponsorship. May I ask those of you who can, to afford a little cash to sponsor this tired old fool in his efforts to help others. If everyone were able to be as comfortable with cancer as I am with mine, due not least to the excellent care I get, I feel my efforts are well worth the pain and the agony (just joking about the pain…I have drugs for that!!) Please help if you can and give me a huge lift at the same time by clicking on to my Justgiving web site.

Now, where’s the Vaseline and the padded shorts?

http://www.justgiving.com/richard-copley

Thankyou everyone.

Richard

Oh, my scan? All tumours are stable. I’m fine in myself, in fact I consider myself a very lucky person, I have great friends and family and a secure lifestyle. I may have to store the toilet rolls in the fridge but I really have no complaints. Some would say I’m blessed, others say I'm pig-headedly stubborn!

Planter Hyperhidrosis

From 5 to 50

It started when I was tucked up in bed. Suddenly waking, I felt cold, a clammy cold. I became aware that my T shirt was soaking wet and peeled it off wiping myself down before squelching my way to the bathroom. But, it was not only my torso that was affected, my bald legs and feet were sticking together in some very odd unions. Just how legs can sweat I don’t know, but peeling them apart is bound to wake you up I can assure you. Lovely picture isn't it?Remembering that I have a veritable cocktail of drugs rattling around inside of me at any one time which cause all sorts of mischief, I regard all of these oddities as transitory and try to pay them no real attention. I have had side effects ranging from chronic fatigue to blisters and blackouts! So I was thankful but not surprised that the night “sweats” were only short lived. However I do appear to have picked up a secondary Plantar Hyperhidrosis.

I was going to start this diatribe by poking fun at my planter hyperhidrosis and getting you all worried over the Latin name rather than my …SWEATY FEET! However, the more I looked up the problems of hyperhydrosis the more I felt sympathy with the million or so people in the UK who actually suffer from it. There are web sites, help forums, and NHS support to help those who sweat too much. And no, not all sweat smells before you have an image of me humming like an old training shoe! So how did I cope with this, the latest in setbacks? Cotton socks and showers! I think I’ll survive.

Talking of survival, you probably know the figures for cancer developing in all of us is roughly one in five. Why then out of my close group of five friends who go back to school days some 40 years ago, do three out of the five of us have or have had cancer? We all survive but what are the odds?

I always knew the physics lessons with Depleted Uranium weren’t a good idea Mr Phillips!

There was always a strange glow about the pupils in Class 3c.

Actually that takes me onto a sideways look at my cancer. From day one I would have expected that the researchers would have been all over me with respect to the fact that I had worked with the MoD and using various “materials” over 10 years before irradiating myself flying at altitude for a further couple of decades with the airlines. I must have had some serious radioactive millisievert activity over those years so it came as no surprise when I was asked to produce a report for Excel Airways on the accumulated radiation exposure to pilots and cabin crew before I left. It is a very real problem taken seriously by some airlines. There was even a related rumour that cabin crew would not be considered as organ donors because of this exposure. However, I personally believe this statement would be more correct if commentating on the state of their livers! Long live Caribbean beer… which in fact does have a half life of Mr Phillips’ Uranium!

It remains true that no one in the lifestyle or genetic research cancer community was at all interested in my radiation exposure over the years. Perhaps it’s not relevant to my kidney cancer and the 7000 new cases in the UK every year. Perhaps they know where the cancer comes from and don’t need to look for external causes? It would however be nice to know my enemy.

But to more important things, the hair is growing back! Fluffy white above the ears, white eyebrows and a general whispy down on top. If you look closely you can see the roots of the “white hair” are now coming through as black. The beard has changed from a stately grey/white and has developed patches of dark around the “goatee” areas such that I can look like Ming the Merciless’ grandad! The ladies in my life have taken to fluffing the top of my head in recognition of the new growth… I have become a sex toy. The rest of me is actually feeling very good. Energy levels are increasing, as is my waistline, so I’ll have to consider not sticking so much down my neck…eat consciously and all that. From the sublime to the ridiculous then if you consider what I was like pre-Christmas. There isn’t a scan booked for another 6-8 weeks and the medics are ignoring me unless I have a problem. The Hospice Day Centre have conceded that I am not typical and do not need craft activities to be a complete human being. They have put me on the back burner to simmer away for…ever, I hope. I’m back at my pilates class and the bike is going to get an airing when the weather stops behaving like it's winter. All told I’m in a good place, but one without biscuits!

NOTE: The above diatribe was written three weeks ago. Since then I have lost weight and gained strength. Sometimes it’s difficult to get an appetite but I known the consequences if I don’t eat this time around. Mind over matter. Focus Copley...now where is the Cadburys hidden?

And the best news of all is that I have secured a venue and band for 6 November 2010.

Yes, I’ll be FIFTY and the achievement of reaching a half century is going to be celebrated with enthusiasm. I’m going to throw a huge party for all of you. From aged 5 to 50 there have been many of you who have touched my life and it would be good to see you again.

More details to follow but I’m having great fun sorting out the early logistics.

Richard

Getting On...

As usual I’ll start with the apology for not writing sooner.

I left you with tales of facemasks, radiotherapy, hair loss and fatigue. Perhaps I felt it a little insensitive to bang on about the same stuff for weeks on end, so I didn’t. It has always been difficult to evaluate whether I’m whinging…or informing.

So how have I been? The photos show that all is not doom and gloom and I include a few for your amusement, including a video of a Mock-Morris dance for a fancy dress laugh! I spent ages on YouTube learning how to do basic steps let alone stripping the audio to edit the accordion music! Idle hands and all that! Don’t even ask how long it took to learn how to tie a dhoti Ghandi style!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xta3yrkQ10o

I have to admit however that there have been times when the energy levels have hit rock bottom and I was then actually classified as chronically fatigued, having then to carefully regulate my bullish physical output. Never mind the cancer and its implications, I was getting exhausted walking for just ten minutes for Gods sake! Remember I was running 10k races and cycling eight weeks earlier in July! Such things serve to remind you that you are sick, damn it. When the fatigue set in I could literally get up mid afternoon and sometimes then go back to bed for a normal night time, exhausted and ridiculously frustrated. It was the combination of drugs and an eventual reaction to the head radiotherapy. They keep telling me that it was a one-off procedure regardless of the outcome, so I guess they whacked up the dial because of it. However, of all the drugs I must endure the effects of the steroids can be most acute. Your sleep patterns are destroyed, such that you can be getting up all night long because you can’t sleep! They are prescribed reluctantly because of their potency but I suppose despite my moaning they are essentially to keep me from falling over! I resent their necessity but welcome the bigger picture they allow in keeping me vertical.

Up until Christmas I guess I was a little poorly and had various medical investigations for reasons other than the obvious cancer. Which, by the way is essentially in an overall stable condition. My Oncologist is happy anyway. I’ve had cameras inserted where cameras should never go (I have copies of the photos of course). I’ve even spent a couple of totally unnecessary nights in a geriatric ward listening to the effects of 24 hour dementia and associated bodily functions whilst trying to mask the nasal offences with my deodorant on every conceivable piece of clothing and skin area. The results were sadly negligible I’m afraid to say and I was out of the ward like a scalded cat when given the opportunity! At least I had the toilet to myself as a result of being the only one conscious enough to know there was one! The toilet, refurbished and opened that day did have its own problems with a sixty second lighting timer which required the manic waving of both arms to trigger the sensor to avoid embarrassment when it invariably went dark…work it out! Ah, yet another insight into a previously unknown world. “ Are you sure you want the curtains shut all the time darling?...Oh Yes…YES!”

The upshot of the visit? Medically inconclusive but God owes me two days!

That smell is still with me now. Bless them, not their fault…but wow!

As Christmas approached I began to recover, having lost over two stone in weight in the previous two months…just the drugs. A wobbly time Christmas day and again New Years day did concern me but did nothing to stop me cooking the full monty as is traditional. Stubborn?...moi?

Anyhow, today (12 January 2010) I’m now raring to go despite a lack of sleep. I’ve been doing all the silly things that require snow of course in the last week and the energy levels are good. So with no exception by 9.30 this morning I have already cleaned the kitchen and completely blitzed the oven before getting on with this blog. The energy levels are cyclic so I am determined to use them when they are up.

Today was going to be a “different” sort of day as a result of my recent, pre- Christmas health limitations. Let me share it with you.

Admittedly over the last couple of months I have been a trifle run down. I could neither stomach food or drink because of the inevitable vomiting, and the weight did come off, although disappointingly not from the waistline. To that end I had the Royal Marsden point me towards the Macmillan Nurses. Hospice care rings very loud bells in my head (perhaps that was the tumours rattling around!)

The problem I have is the continuity of my health professionals, who then have very little insight into the individuals psyche...me! They see drugs and effects and manage accordingly. Although paying lip service to the individual there is little time to understand the patient. I am fortunate and have been able to “cope” with the emotional trauma of my condition with little thought. A stoic attitude and bloody mindedness is essential to continue, something I am very, very grateful for. In effect I get on with the new life I have. I am however fast noticing that I am becoming just the cancer guy Hospital Number 532189. Seeing my fatigue, the Doctor suggested this solution:

A few days after Christmas I had two calls from my local Hospice where the Macmillan nurses are based. The first was a nurse outlining her home visits and telephone availability if I have dietary, drug or personal care problems. It is excellent to have available, but as we discussed not required at the moment. The second call invited Michelle and I to the local Hospice for a look-see, in fact it was their Day Care Centre, which we accepted with a degree of apprehension. Now at this time I was recovering my energy and eating for England…I was feeling pretty much my normal self and apart from the bald badge of office for the cancer club having removed the hat, showed little signs of need.

On the agreed day, on approaching the door I noticed an empty wine box…good start I’m thinking…result! We were greeted by the staff, all of which were a comfortable age and naturally very pleasant, and lead into the conservatory for a cup of tea. The centre is an immaculately converted large house by the seafront in Southend. In fact the last time I passed it I was running the Southend 10k last year! We sat there in high backed winged chairs and talked about me and I was politely invited to join them despite my inability to hit any relevant criteria for ill health or emotional support. In fact I was so well that I volunteered to help them rather than be a patient! As part of being shown around we had noticed the patients were quite elderly and the facilities did reflect this from the high-backed chairs to the craft sessions making Christmas cards with sticky stars and bits of coloured paper and the communal eating with supervision. No doubt there would be assistance to spoon feed me a meal if I needed help. Don’t get me wrong in the slightest please, I loved the place and what it does, ironically having supported its Charitable status for my entire life being the best known local charity. Worthy and perfect facilities and care for those who need that level of attention but can you see me sitting there, making cards and dozing away my time rather than going out for a bike ride or DIY? Go on, you all know me…imagine it!!!If I ever need it, it’s a wonderful facility but for the foreseeable future…I’ll take a rain cheque thanks.

This morning would have been my first visit, having first being picked up by a volunteer in his Nissan Micra!

Thanks to all of you for letting me know that you read this. I have a pile of personal emails to write sitting on the computer.

May I wish you all a very belated Happy and Prosperous New Year.

I’m sure as hell going to have one. What’s your excuse for not?

Richard