Are Crystal Balls Cancer Friendly?


It's true what they say ya know... People with a lot of time on their hands tend to think a lot, or should that read over-think.. a lot ? Let me assure you, I am well accustomed to thought patterns if they are re-thought, re-worked and then the (not so obvious) tends to happen, where that over driven mind can start a chain reaction which can introduce an abundence of negativity. I'm no expert by any means on this, but I am currently attending class's that deal with our mindfulness, our good musings and indeed the polar opposite, what our class tutor refers to as 'stinking thinking'. The latter dealing with the power of negativity even though these thoughts generally project into the future. And as well know, the future has not been written yet, be that for 5 mins time, 5 days time or even 5 weeks. I find this course excellent. Lets face it, the mind of a cancer battler has seen a lot more action than that mind of the average person. This mindfulness course I attend identifies the ups, the downs, the twists and indeed the turns our minds can and do try and get us to take as they try and process all that is going on and no doubt, attempt to fire me off on a course of 'Stinking Thinking'. 

Somebody battling Cancer might be seen to be at overload at times, where their own mind is concerned. I can see where this makes sense. But what also makes sense is when your mind (my mind) has been dragged right to the bottom and left there for a number of weeks nursing a mis-diagnosis (Pancreatic Cancer instead of gastro was mine). The point I'm making is, in the 3 weeks that I nursed my unknown misdiagnosis, that darkest period in my whole life to date, my mind and spirit were at rock bottom. I know this because of the funeral I planned and replanned. How I planned for it all to be a celebration of my short life, where I planned for BRIGHT COLOURS only to be worn by you (and me). How I tastefully planned to sprinkle a flavour of the strong spiritual aspect I hold dearly in ballooning in to my funeral mass. How I would carefully have this balanced with light humour from a well remembered aerostatic aerial adventure. I was only days away of handpicking 4 fixedwing friends I wanted to overfly my graveside on that fateful day. Then my corrected diagnosis surfaced.  

So when I tell you that I have already hit rock bottom, it is in no way intended to be a flipent remark, but rather one of a geniune measurement. So when one hits rock bottom, UP is the only way. I'm in that UP momentum since day 1 but of course there has been speed bumps along the way. As UP as I can be right now, as time pulls on, batting this bruiser can be a lonely place. Yes, my fantastic wife Alison, daughter Aoife with my myriad of inlaws backed up by great friends do help so much in filling that void that's left. The lonely times I see, is me approaching the bottom of the pool, knowing when I get there I will able to push myself off the bottom and shoot vertical for that air I desperately need, both for breathing and digesting, if indeed the latter can be done with air. Fighting this b@stard is a bloody long road to venture out on. I was never one for much patience, but let me assure all that know me, that I have improved in this department.   

So if I had a 'cancer friendly' crystal ball right now, what would it show? Are we going steady in the correct direction to get rid of this diabolical affliction that found me? Will the first words (post misdiagnosis) I uttered, fall to the unused shadows of a stray timeline? As the tears flowed down my cheeks in my hospital bed that morning, I cried out "I will never get to walk Aoife down the isle". Those words shot like a laser beam from my mind to my mouth. I will remember them for the rest of my life.

So right now, I'm juggling along just fine. I'm staying away from all builtup enclosed areas, which they tell me my white blood cells are already thankful for. I'm sleeping lots, which I'm still not used too, but have taken on board to listen to my body, so if it wants sleep, it gets it. My next CT SCAN is scheduled for the week after next. Remember, the first (and last) scan I had?, some 20+ weeks ago my Oncology team reported back 'Tumour has significantly reduced with no signs of any reoccurrence'. It was during the live results of this last scan, that I experienced a warm hand of love and friendship from St. Pio. So we wait and see how we are fixed this time around. During the last CT SCAN, as I was holed up inside this giant donut machine, I asked for a sign from Padre Pio that he was with me and next thing 'bang', a part of this giant white donut went out of order. I will of course be mindful what I wish for this time around. That last bit is very true. Good for you if it gets a giggle, that's allowed too.

 Thank you for reading my blog. 
Happy Easter to you all. 


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