The last few days have been a proverbial sh!t-swinging hammock thruster.
Fine, so there isn’t actually a proverb with one of those in it, but that’s not the point here, because frankly there f*cking SHOULD be a proverb with a sh!t-swinging hammock thruster in it, so give me a break.
Suddenly, from the bleakness of the update below this one, things have spiraled into a completely new shape.
After the first Cancer Vent, the response I got from here was incredible, utterly incredible . People were giving and generous, kind, thoughtful and concerned. Hundreds sent good wishes to my friend, via me, hundreds more retweeted and mentioned the story we are telling, in line with ‘B’s wishes to see his story told.
In all this, only one person has come forward with negativity and unpleasantness, out of thousands who have shown warmth. I think that’s a fairly good average really, I mean you always get some dicks right?
A few amazing individuals sent cold, hard cash – with warm, soft love – including one particularly outstanding person sent a huge donation that shocked and humbled us in equal measure.
There were also other things quietly occurring in the background, as the aforementioned outstanding person not only gave a large amount of money, but also tirelessly endeavored to assist us by calling in favours and helping to arrange a meeting with the CEO and top brass of the drug manufacturing company. We couldn’t have dreamed that we would get the chance to pitch our case right at their corporate faces, but we did. Thanks to an amazing person.
This is for that person’s actual face: xxxxxx
Sadly, despite masses of effort, the position of the drugs company and the trials administrators seems to have remained staggeringly rigid. But not from want of trying, pestering and pushing.
But this is where things change.
This is the sh!t-swinging hammock thruster.
Because I got some news from ‘B’ yesterday that changes everything.
This week he has been getting tested, prodded and scanned relentlessly in an effort to see what, if any, effect the horrible desperation chemo he has been having has had on him. And despite all the terrible news from last time, it seems that the God he recently found might be listening after all.
Because this week’s tests showed NO NEW GROWTH.
According to ‘B’ and his support team, this is as close to “remission” as someone in his position is likely to get. And the implication is huge and terrifying…
This is the foothold where he gets to decide to risk his life to be a father and a husband again.
This break in the aggressive cancerous assault means that he has been fast-tracked onto a seven day run of the most horrendous chemo-mixtures they can find, in order to immediately follow-up with a stem-cell transplant from his sister right on the back of it, whilst the cancer is hopefully killed off.
Because of the “remission” it actually means he could get a chance at this.
It’s not a guarantee, it’s not even going to be plain sailing it itself, we need to be honest here; not only could this “not work” but this could f*cking kill him.
But this is the glimpse of hope he wanted.
This is where he will go through living hell, agony and major surgery, followed by a long and unpleasant period of complete isolation and quarantine where, if he lives through it, his ravaged body could re-grow again.
Hopefully cancer free.
This is the battle he thought he’d never get the chance to fight when the remission-inducing drugs he had been promised were pulled away from him.
I’ll draw this to a close now because I’ve got some onion in my eye. Yes, onion, you f*cking heard me. But I’ll finish it by adding the same words ‘B’ used to end his last email to me, because it makes it all seem worthwhile:
“I’ll see you on the other side of this”
“Love you buddy”
And then I’ll make it clear that we are not out of the woods, not safe, not under any illusions, but rather we are in a position where at least there actually is a road ahead now, even if it is a terribly hard one.
This is the fight for his life.
The fight to be daddy again.