Seeing the World

There was a time when flying further than the Canaries just didn’t appeal.  Economy seats from Phoenix to London reaffirmed that view over ten October hours in 2014.  But the desire to return was too great and I discovered the joy of cheap business class flights out of Dublin.

And next week will see me commence a thirteen hour monster of a journey from Madrid to Santiago in Chile.  After first getting to Milan as that’s where “cheap” posh seat fares for this trip exist.  Around £1500 saved by getting to Milan and connecting to Madrid rather than flying from London or, bizarrely, starting in Madrid.

Anyway, that doesn’t solve my problem around how to entertain myself for thirteen hours.  We’re flying Iberia.  I assume a chunk of the in flight entertainment with be in English, but there is a risk of Dora The Explorer without subtitles.

There maybe interactive games allowing me to challenge Chris to something.  Although for the last seven years I’ve tended to be an unhappy runner up.

My iPad has a decent collection of music on it.  And a couple of games.  Monopoly might just be the future.

It’s a midnight flight.  I assume food, sleep, breakfast, look down 30,000 feet to see the Amazon rainforest and land is the order of the day.  But that post-breakfast bit will feel long, more so if sleep has been an issue.

The likelihood of paying silly money for in flight wifi become appealing.

I’ve Already Used 25% of My Time

Well over half of the people diagnosed with lung cancer in November 2016 are now dead.

A tiny proportion of them, including me, have the EGFR19 mutation in their tumours.  I haven’t really got a clue what that means, other than I’m able to take a drug (one of four drugs) that gives me an average life expectancy of 32 months.

Better than those who have already gone.

But even in my group of “lucky” victims, many are now dead.  By July 2019 that death toll of us lucky ones will be 50%.  If I hit “average” I’ve already used up a quarter of my time.  That’s a pause for thought before continuing on my mad travel binge!

Obviously I’d prefer not to be in the dead category.  But fast forward to November 2021, even with the help of my wonder drug, and 86% of us will be certified stiffs.

It isn’t a great place to be.  While I’ve managed to fast forward my retirement travel aspirations the (accurate) saying that men think about sex every ten seconds is now interspersed with thoughts of dying young at similar intervals.

Not morbid thoughts.  Not depressing thoughts.  But it’s always there.

Equally, there’s a slight fear of survival.  I’m blowing large chunks of my cash now.  If the miracle happens I’ll be pish poor in retirement.  Well, not quite true, but the long haul flights will have to stop!

It’s not exactly a worry that’s eating away at me.  But it is a reality.  And I’ve still no desire for this fun to stop.

Looking at things another way, I’ve probably already lived 96% of my life.

New Balls Please

Bag for Chile packed.  It’s a week and a half before departure but I like to be ahead of the curve.

Before then my sister has come up with a little treat, courtesy of her tennis club’s lottery draw.  If things fall into place I’ll be sat on centre court next Saturday watching the Wimbledon ladies’ final.  Or maybe a delayed men’s semi final.

Now Wimbledon has always appealed as an event to go to.  Even if my tennis knowledge is limited.  Stepson Matt was on Murray Mound as the Scot won his first title there and a little admiration for his queuing effort, combined with a tinge of jealousy, came into play.

So a Wimbledon final has been added to my bucket list and hotel etc booked to make this happen.  And within a week I should have it ticked off as complete.

While I like to mock Andy Murray as a Scot when it’s not going too well, there are few sportsmen who work as hard as the top end professional tennis player.  And while Henman was a very good nearly man Murray took the final step by winning his share of top competitions.

My knowledge the female game is limited.  Is Chris Evert still going?  Is Jo Durie still getting knocked out in the first week?  I believe a Williams sister usually wins but one of them is up the duff.  The nice looking Russian druggie – is she still in it?

A quick check on the bookmaker’s web site tells me a Brit is the favourite to win.  I can’t believe Virginia’s still playing!

I’ll try to brush up on my knowledge to ensure I don’t cause to much offence through ignorance next Saturday afternoon.  I’m really looking forward to it.

And the key information is the food.  £95 for a picnic for two.  £2.50 for strawberries and cream.  I’ll take the latter and smuggle in a Boots Meal Deal!

Nine Months of Looking Like This

Nine months ago my step-daughter Louise got married.  It was also the first reported sighting of my Bell’s palsy.

Theres no cure.  Treatments out there aren’t able to demonstrate that they actually work.  It will, supposedly, go away on its own.  But at nine months old my nerve damage is, it seems, in the most severe 5% of cases.

For those who haven’t followed my story and don’t know the illness, the right side of my face dropped.  My lip became inactive on that side, causing drinks to spill out and an inability to smile.  My nostril slipped, causing nosebleeds.  My eye became unable to close or blink.  Causing drynes, soreness and occasional dislike of light.  Speech became lisp filled unless I supported my lip with my hand.

After a few weeks, I regained a little ability to smile.  Left side remained in full flow.  Right side lips raised slightly, quivering.  But after six months that quivering recovery went overnight.  My smile became a diagonal line again.  My eye became even sorer.  I lost most of the hearing in my right ear.  The regular nose bleeds continue.  The hope of recovery forgotten.

I don’t think I’ve ever been a pretty boy.  Otherwise the impact of this would probably be devastating.  But I’m fed up with it.  I want to be able to blink.  I want the light sensitivity to go away.  I want to be able to sneeze without fearing for my eyeball.  I want to be able to smile without looking like some sort of deformed zombie.  I want to be able to speak without impediment.

Yesterday I bought it a present.  Double width tape to hold my eyelid down at night.  This protects the cornea against infection.  For the last few months I’ve been using 1.25cm wide tape.  From now on I’m a 2.5cm man.  It feels slightly more secure.

I just want it all to go away.  But perhaps it never will.

He’s Just a Kid Who Loved Football

Many readers will have heard about Bradley Lowery.  He died a few hours before I wrote this.  I can’t think of anything worse for a parent to endure.

From the little I’ve read about him, his young approach to life is epitomised in the smile on the photo above.

I’ve had a half decent life with its various ups and downs.  This kid has had barely anything before cancer has taken him away.  And, of course, there are numerous other young cancer sufferers out there.

It’s a cruel disease.  I’ve got my own version of it.  But I’m so much luckier than those directly affected by Bradley’s illness.

RIP young man.

And Now the Feet

Well if it’s not a dose of cancer or a wonky face, what else could it be?

My feet!  They’ve never been beautiful things to look at, and after ending 2015 with a mountain ascent (albeit only a little English mountain) they’ve been a bit shredded.

Given my bone issues, actually reaching my feet to trim my nails is an act of contortion that I’m now less willing to take.  Thus, part of my meagre benefits is now contributing to regular paid for podiatry care.  I’m getting somebody else to cut my nails.

If you’re thinking of a new career and can tolerate the scabby feet of others, I suspect this is a nice little earner.  I’m sure there are qualifications to get but clippers, plasters, scissors and savlon, along with various disinfectants, seems to be the tools of the trade.

Today’s visit required three toes to have special attention.  Little left has a nasty blister.  Wrapped up.  Big left has a healing blister that was looked at, sprayed and then left to continue healing.  Big right remains an issue.  Although it’s 21 months since my mountain climb the damage, leading to nail growing over nail, under nail shredding and leaving fragments behind, there is still pain.  Despite an impressive patch up job done a month ago.  At least the anti-biotics got rid of the infection.

Mrs Podiatrist remains confident the toe will make a full recovery.  Otherwise my visit to the Chilean Andes might not be as successful as I’d like.

My Car Hire Loyalty Programme Goes Plus

The incarnation of excessive night time traffic cones and motorway road closures cursed the drive home from Anglesey.

And I might have thought that a hire car related incentive wouldn’t impress me after something of a hellish Thursday evening where it became clear that the Highways Agency now employ significant numbers of cone putter outerers on our roads.

Still, Avis have enhanced my “preferred” status to “preferred plus” which is exciting. To me anyway.

I don’t always hire overseas, but when I do Avis seems to tick the box for reliability, although price isn’t always lowest.  Anybody can register for Avis Preferred which is a queue jumping guarantee.  Better still, I have an outstanding free weekend rental to redeem from my first three hires this year.

Preferred Plus is a bonus for five hires.  Lovely plusness now follows my bookings around the globe and guarantees me a car upgrade, a free additional driver and another free weekend hire once I get back from Chile!

The car upgrade is particularly good news.  It means that I can improve my cheaper choices when travelling in Europe.  It means that the already booked banger for the Chilean lakes will be bigger.  And my unbooked plan to return to the USA in September will also be more comfortable.  Mustang Convertible is out of reach though.

The letter goes on to explain that with four more rentals of €1000 in total this year I can move up another level.  It doesn’t tell me what those additional benefits are.  It doesn’t even tell me what the level is called.  While I’ve no plans to chase Avis Preferred Plus Plus I’ll get around to looking it up.  Maybe something even more exciting to play for!

Portmeirion

I’ve spent the last few days enjoying some down time in Anglesey at my sister’s place.  Hot tub.  Fields of green.  Searching, unsuccessfully, for red squirrels and generally chilling.

The nature of my “sit down for a long time and then struggle to get up” pain appears less significant than the last time I was here.  That said, I seem to have a series of aches and strains from feet, to left arm and most significant my right leg, hip and pelvis.

If, as the oncologist said, I have bone regrowth occurring where the cancer hammered me, it’s working in a strange way down that one limb.  Numerous different strains on a leg that’s struggling bit.  Nothing that the naproxen can’t handle though.  Nothing that has me panicking about tumour regrowth.  Not yet, anyway.

Yesterday, after another train ride up Snowdon a visit to Portmeirion was made.  I’ve never been before, thought the TV series “The Prisoner” was weird and according to my BMW’s sat nav the place doesn’t exist.

£12 later and we’re in.  Glorious sunshine beating down after a morning in the clouds.  Low tide, so a tiny channel wound itself through a mass of sands in the bay.  Buildings now converted to sell ice creams, overpriced gifts and other things.  Kids in a paddling pool.  A fenced off giant chess set.

Eventually we reached a hotel with a spare table outside.  It’s not often I pay £10.50 for a chicken sandwich but the setting over the bay and the weather made this an exception.  A mix of fabulous service and exceptional taste made it a lunch worth waiting for in a location worth enjoying.

The almost toy town buildings of the village could be seen as weird by some.  Somehow the location and Italian architecture brings out a charm that forces you to enjoy pottering around doing very little.

Then a slightly longer than expected drive home and an evening back in the hot tub. It’s a tough life for the unemployed.

The £28 USA Road Bill I’d Forgotten About

I have an instinctive dislike of international road tolls.  Hell, I object to paying 20p to cross a bridge somewhere between the A1 and Lincoln.  But I’ve got a good old British outlook of I’ve paid my road tax and been screwed for petrol tax so I don’t want to pay any more thank you very much.

So I was momentarily put out to discover £28 charged to my credit card by Avis this morning, in respect of New England toll roads.

One of the irritants is that I’d forgotten it was coming.  The other frustration was that I’d got jo way of knowing what the bill would be.  Yes, I’ve driven past a few signs with a $ fee on them.  Yes, I’ve driven through the automated toll booths that click an electronic device in your car to start the charging cycle.  But it didn’t seem like I’d accrued quite that many charges.

I’ve no idea how they fund their road system over the pond.  The regular “Sponsor a Highway” signs make me laugh.  Although perhaps the “M6 sponsored by NCP Car Parks” has a ring to it.

But petrol is cheap.  Even allowing for the Yanks rather annoying having a gallon that’s a different (smaller) size to a good old British gallon I reckon fuel is about half the cost.  I’m not paying any road tax over there.  So is my £14 a week USA toll charge comparable to what I pay to use the roads in Blighty?

On balance I think it probably is.  We drove many more miles than I usually do back home and given the half price fuel benefit it’s quite clear that the total spend on fuel and tolls is quite considerably less than I’d have paid for fuel alone in the UK.

So yes, driving in New England is probably better value than driving in Ye Olde England.  Still hate getting a bill a week after I got home though!

The NHS Have Invented Time Travel!