A Happy Christmas and New Year

My plans to post before Christmas have gone a little out of the window, due to:
A) Having to dig our car out of the snow today, when I should have been blogging instead!
B) The research for my next piece not being on target. Either my memory is getting more addled with age, or the event I wanted to relay was longer ago than I thought.
So if we ever return from the winter wonders of the Lake District the next blog will be the 5th of January. Thanks for reading so far - have a fantastic festive time.

The Joy of Life

We had a much loved, and now much missed, temporary house guest recently. Answering to the name of Meg, she liked to go walking whatever the weather, especially when the leaves were blowing. Most of the time Meg displayed human qualities, and indeed thinks that she is – but once a rubber pig or chicken was introduced she became a wild thing, as much a wild thing a Springer Spaniel can be. For those that have never had one, Springers embody a lust for life that maybe we should take note of…

Meg loves rubber chickens and pigs. And Naomi's hand.

I know that walking helps the pain in my hips and back, a result of the cancer’s spread to my bones; It doesn’t care where it goes, just as long as it can get somewhere, anywhere. Radiotherapy at different times has helped me regain back mobility – there have been moments when I couldn’t even get out of the car, wincing in pain; A far cry from the man that would walk happily in the Lakes for ten to twelve miles a day.

I can walk now, which is a blessing, a fact that I thank God and my doctor for. But there are days where I’m just happy to sit on the couch, feeling lethargic, devoid of energy. All symptoms that cancer sufferers are so familiar with, and I count myself lucky that the side effects of Tarceva are ‘relatively’ slight.

But Meg indicated that sitting on the couch just isn’t allowed, that whatever the weather we must get out to enjoy the world, to take part whilst we still can. That even if the weather is cloudy and grey, like my spirit sometimes, that to see the world for all its beauty is to understand that life must be lived. So as we kicked leaves and walked amongst the swaying, dancing trees, looking down on the valleys of Dorset stretching to the sea I felt happiness in my heart. From the hill-tops to the sea, in the clouds, in the sun, we walked – Meg and I.

Meg, contented after a hard day chasing leaves

 She has now gone home to her owner and I’ve gone back to being inside too much, but I try to remember the joy we both felt from the world out there. For to be in it is to experience the reason we’re here: Not things, objects, or possessions – for the beauty of life, however it may reach out and touch our hearts, is to be rich indeed.

Where it all begins...

So it seems that I've finally got to put my money where my mouth is and actually start organising my Mont Blanc climb for next year. What had started off as an idle thought had then been put down on my media 'biography', and subsequently picked up on by a presenter on a live radio interview as a key talking point. A thought as a possible 'objective' for next year had now had to take some form of reality, otherwise I'm just talking a lot of hot air! Which is never the case, despite public opinion on this matter.

Mont Blanc at Sunset, copyright RPM Guides

The issue of targets and objectives is an interesting one, because in my own way of dealing with the dreaded C word – cancer that is, not the C word used by James Naughtie on Today this week – I personally find that it helps me to put order back into my life, by establishing aims that I can work towards. The idea of a linear future and a long-term plan (marriage, family, old age, grand-children) is suddenly all taken away. Nothing seems real, guaranteed. There is only one guarantee, which there is for anyone, but for me that seems somewhat nearer than for most people. So, the establishment of a given target seems the best thing that I can do – two fingers to cancer. I will be here, this is my life, you cannot take it away – yet. I will carry on trying to do the things that I love, you cannot take me away from the people that I love – yet.

The phrase “Every day a mountain” came about because to me it's a personal metaphor for what it's like living with cancer: the ups and downs, the bigger picture, trying to get through every day and remain positive – even when the slightest ache and pain makes me feel that the cancer is getting one up on me. So please read on and let me know what you think, it's not just a blog about one man trying to get to the top of a mountain: It's about how cancer strips away the flesh, but not the spirit.