August 23rd, 2011 at 10:49 pm by Stupid Rubbish

Apologies for the words about serious sh!t, again, but I kind of like venting things out like a stream of hot vomit and I’ll probably delete it later, anyway, then try to get back to the serious business of making other people laugh.

So, what’s my problem?

Simple really.

I spent most of today hugging a weeping man. I know what you are thinking, I see your concern, but I can assure you there was no bumming involved. No, these were a different type of tears and a different kind of hugs.

And not a good kind.

Let’s call the weeping man ‘B’ – because his name begins with the letter B, not because he f*cks flowers and sh!ts honey, obviously. And let’s call his lovely wife ‘Z’ because that’s the first letter of her name too. Genius.

It seems like only moments that I was at their wedding, at a beautiful venue, drinking like a fish and watching my mate walk down the aisle dressed like a f*cking comedy groom, just brilliant. A weekend of memories and utter debauchery, much of which can never be retold.

And it seems even less time since we were at school together, over twenty years ago, creating havoc and being stupid f*cking idiots, setting fire to sh!t and generally being immortal, like all young boys are.

Except, it turns out we’re not.

‘B’ is dying and there is almost nothing that can be done about it.

He’s been fighting cancer with everything he has for over a year now, with the top prize being a potentially life-extending bone marrow transplant being offered whilst the cancer is attacked with heavy duty chemotherapy.

We thought it was in remission.

It’s not.

It’s back with vengeance and it’s worse than ever, without a remission there is no way forward and unless the impossibly nasty week long sessions of chemotherapy he is having right now do something, time is short.

And what’s worse, there is a drug available in America, called SGN-35, that could save him. If he could have it that is… because the clinical trials in the UK ended the day after he was told he could have it, so now he can’t, there isn’t any, it’s not licensed or something.

Unless he buys his own from America for $200,000 of course.

f*cking incredible.

And I spent the day trying to keep positive whilst knowing what he really needed (and got) was reassurances that we would still be there for ‘Z’ and help her with things when he has gone

He’s thirty five years old and he is having to work out what he can do to make sure his wife is ‘OK’ when he dies. Whilst simultaneously trying to find a way to keep fighting through pain, misery and hopeless waves of utter hell.

He’s thirty five.

And then there are his children – two little boys aged two and four.

His absolute world and the core of the strength he has to keep fighting. And he is fighting, fighting for his children and his family because they are everything, even though he is close to falling apart…

What I would do for $200,000 right now, or the ability to take this pain away from him. I know what comes next, I’ve lived through it twice already and I’m not looking forward to it. Life hurts you then it hurts you some more.

A tip: If you ever end up with one of your oldest and dearest friends crying helplessly in your arms because he knows his children will not remember him. Don’t try and say anything – because believe me, there is NOTHING to say.

Just hug.


14 Responses to “Original vent.”

  1. G says:

    My best friend recently found out he’s got cancer, i didn’t know what to say or do, we both cried together, never before felt so helpless! we still don’t know how bad it is, they found cancer cells during a minor operation waiting further tests at christies, anyway i’m starting to ramble now, sorry, typical woman…… your post has touched me i’ll keep you all in my thoughts

  2. Anon says:

    I wish there was more to say than I’m sorry and be strong. sending hugs and prayers to you and your friend and his family.

  3. mrs_sarcasm_101 says:

    So touched by this. I’ve seen both sides of this disgusting disease, lost both parents in law and numerous relatives, and, I have also been extremely fortunate to have both my parents survive it (touch wood).
    You are right, there is nothing you can say, just listen and hug.
    Sending you a big hug too, because he is after all your friend and a huge part of your life, and, well, you could probably do with one too x

  4. BurnTheWitch9 says:

    Massive hugs xxx

  5. Bunnyrunner says:

    A very heavy heart now beats in my chest.
    Whatever you do, DON’T DELETE this PLEASE.
    Hugs to both you and your friend and a cuddle for the kids too.

  6. Andrew Denny says:

    Sorry to hear of his – and your – pain.

    However, are you saying that $200,000-worth of drug would *definitely* save him – to make him cancer-free – or that it might offer half a chance but no promises, or that it’s a last ($200,000) straw for him to clutch at?

    And are you saying he should definitely be entitled to it on the NHS?

    Sorry to ask these tricky questions.

    • Hello. I’m still gently gleaning the painful details from a very unhappy and dejected friend, but it appears that the drug was removed from UK trials the day after he was told that he could be given it (as part of the trials). I don’t know about definites. And certainly nothing is a guaranteed “save” with cancer, but it is my understanding that this drug has had amazing effects on people in exactly the situation that he is in, we think it could have extended his life enough to pursue other options and gain a foothold in the fight. It’s hard, because even talking about it and digging up the detail is extremely painful.

  7. Cat says:

    Please get B to make some recordings of himself reading stories for his boys, talking to them, telling them stuff he wants to tell them as they grow up. They will be something positive for him to focus on doing while all the crap is going on and they will be treasured by his sons who will never be able to forget I’m. I feel your pain, both of you. There are no words, just love…..

    Sending light and love

    Cat x