Misplaced characters and missing cats

A few weeks ago, during a chapter re-write I decided I needed a certain character to turn up and look suitable shifty for a scene or two. Only when I looked I realised I had actually left him behind several chapters and a trek across the wilderness ago.

Bah.

I also can’t remember what I left him doing, and this is someone best not left to their own devices! Certain characters are prone to misbehaving, wandering off and generally causing trouble…

But never fear, post-it notes to the rescue – I decided to map everybody’s whereabouts throughout the story, and hallelujah for funky stationary, I managed to get a different coloured post-it for each character!

The wall in my spare room now looks like something out of an episode of CSI, but I am pleased to report I found my missing character (up to no good as predicted) and will be keeping a beady eye on him in the future.  

If only this little guy were so easy to find.

If you spotted my broken-hearted tweets this week you’ll know that Brian Bear has disappeared.

He went missing early morning on Thursday 10^th May and we are rapidly losing hope that he will turn up alive and well. He’s never missed a meal in his life so we’re pretty sure he’s got himself trapped somewhere, and as the days tick by… well.

We’re all feeling pretty sad right now.

To make it worse, every night I’ve dreamt he’s come home, or that I’ve found him hiding somewhere daft. Makes getting up in the mornings a pretty miserable experience!

I miss his little white toes :-(

And on that note I wish you all a happy weekend. If you have pets give them all an extra squeeze from me.

Laura

A Race Worth Running

A few months ago I blogged about my idea for this years Race for Life. My aim was not only to raise as much money as I could but to also cover my t-shirt with the names nominated by my sponsors. You can find the original post here.

There’s no denying that Race for Life is a very emotional affair, and for those who have lost someone to cancer it be a very therapeutic experience.

However it’s not all sadness, lets not forget that the race is primarily a fundraiser! A fundraiser which goes on to support Cancer Research, which means better treatment options for those who find themselves fighting The Big C.

One person facing such a fight is Gail Lautieri, and this is her story.

I was diagnosed with cancer of the kidney in November 2011. After a long ten week wait I had a radical nephrectomy on January 16, 2012. From the histology, the tumour was classed as grade 4 and, at a whopping 10cm, you can imagine how grateful I was that my fabulous surgeon was able to do the op laparoscopically. There is only one thing more shocking than being told you have cancer, and that is being told you have secondaries. My follow up scan 6 weeks later revealed lung mets on both sides with numerous spots. I was advised by my consultant in Cheltenham that I would be prescribed Sutent, a type of chemotherapy, to try to keep it stable.

Prognosis? On average they give you a couple of years on it before it becomes ineffectual – then what?

As some of you will know, I've been researching my cancer and the possible treatments available for it with the painstaking meticulousness of a prospector panning for gold. Knowledge is power and when death stares you straight in the face, you would do anything to hang on to life.

Through my research I found two cancer forums, one here in the UK and one in the States. Both offered invaluable info and support and more than anything, the word we all cling to - HOPE.

The treatment everyone on the forums was shouting loudest about was HDIL-2: High-Dose Interleukin-2. A tough treatment done widely in the US but very hard to find in the UK. For some it has even offered long term remission, for others it doesn't work. My research showed a glimmer of hope. I was pointed in the direction of Professor Robert Hawkins, of the Christie Hospital in Manchester (UK) one of our top renal specialists and I fought hard to get a referral up to see him.

The day of my consultation with 'the Prof' (as he is fondly known by his staff and those who have been treated by him), was a glorious cloudless blue. It felt like the first day of summer – in the South of France. It was also the day when I knew that this was my chance to try to regain my life. It just felt right... I knew that, as tough as it sounded, this was the treatment I had to try.

Through this entire process I have discovered I have an indomitable determination to live. I have found reserves of energy and positivity I never thought I had.  So much of this I owe to the incredible support I have been receiving from my family, friends and people I've encountered out-and-about and online. The journey so far has been – both painful and inspirational. I have witnessed the very best of human kindness, and a love and care I thought only existed in dreams.

A phone call Thursday confirmed that I had passed all the stress tests and that my tissue type matched the required profile... So I was offered the one bed that would be allocated for HDIL-2 treatment – starting Monday April 16th. 

This news filled me with excitement, gratitude and dread. I scrambled to book up accommodation for Franco (my husband); organised my daughters to ensure their week 'home alone' would be as straightforward as possible; got the shopping in, and tried to remember everything else that would be needed to ensure 'week one' of treatment in Manchester would go as well as it could.

Back to the treatment, (for the squeamish of you, look away now as I explain what I am about to put myself through). A week as an inpatient receiving 8 hourly doses of HDIL-2 through a PICC line right into my heart. The treatment is known as immunotherapy (or bake, shake and flake – as it's known in the US!). Basically, it's trying to kick start my own immune system into killing the cancer cells. During this time the side effects I can expect are the rigors, fever, flu like aches and pains, nausea, vomiting, hallucinations, skin peeling, headaches, water retention, weight gain, low blood pressure and a risk to both my heart and lungs. Not very jolly – but the alternative? After week one, I have a week back home, followed by a second week back in hospital, when this is repeated all over again. Then I am back home for 2 months, after which time, I'll be scanned and then the cycle starts all over again. This could continue for over a year if treatment is showing to be working.

This right here is why I run every year. This is why fundraising is so important – to provide hope.

You can find Gail’s own blog here. Currently updated by husband Franco it very poignantly details the progress of Gail’s HDIL-2 treatment.

And you can find my Just Giving page here.

Thanks for reading and have a good week folks,

Laura

All Quiet on the Lefty Front...

Nothing to report this week, but please come back on monday when I will have a rather special post indeed.

Have a good weekend!

Laura

Conversations with my Mother

I mentioned to my mother that my lawn was getting out of control with all this rain and that I needed to get some kind of garden strimmer to keep it in check.

Mum: Would you not be better off getting a lawnmower?

Me: Where would I keep a lawnmower? Besides the garden is tiny, a strimmer will do won’t it?

Mum: Hold on let me ask your dad (muffled voices during which the phrase ‘what does she need a lawnmower for?’ can be heard loudly) Well dad says a strimmer would be fine, but well… do be careful.

Me: I will, I’m sure they’re not that dangerous

Mum: No, but you need to be extra careful don’t you

Me: I do?

Mum: Yes, what with you being left handed and all.

Me:...?

Mum: Because you are very left handed dear.

Me: Mum I’m sure I can cope with a garden strimmer!

Mum: Sweetheart you say that but you can’t even use a can opener.

I would like to mention at this point that she is in fact correct. Had ring-pull tins not been invented I would be living in a world without alphabet spaghetti.

Me:…Okay I’ll be careful. Bye

Mum: Bye my devil child

Hang on, devil child????? Cheers ma.

Have a good weekend folks, and I’ll try my best not to cut my feet off with a garden strimmer.