Thursday 12 May 2016

The Matter of my Health...

Hi there Finn Fans. 

Lady Ann's Folly came out last week and the afterword goes into quite a bit of detail of how my health is faring now. 

I thought it might be worth posting it here too just to make sure that anyone who's interested can be up to speed on what's happened and what's likely to happen. So, if you are interested, read on... 

Afterword 

In which shocking truths are revealed about the future



Things can change before you know it and sometimes the plans you have get altered as a result. Priorities that seemed crucial once upon a time can simply fall instantly away and it can take some time to find a way through for them again, if ever they find it.

Last October I published a book called Wishing Well and in the afterword there I chatted about the challenges of fitting in the writing time; about staying up into the wee hours to get it done and my plans for future books. I was very much in the throes of my drive to go on publishing a new book every month until my hundredth birthday. 716 books in total was my mission. 716 books.

But there was a fact that I didn’t know about at the time that was creeping up on me; something terribly insistent and insidious that had other plans for my future.

Only days later I started to get these funny little pains in my stomach you see, and the pains got worse and more insistent.

Pretty soon it got so I was in real trouble; real agony; but the doctor wasn’t bothered. Not at all. It was just a tummy bug, he said. Eat some dry toast. I saw another doctor and she felt the same way. They weren’t too bothered about the fact that I’d filled the toilet up with blood late one night. That was just a flash in the pan (heh heh). It was just a tummy bug.

Except I didn’t believe these doctors and thankfully my partner didn’t either, insisting I get further help... an insistence that might just have saved my life.

I went down to Bournemouth Hospital’s A&E department and even there my doctor had me on the phone, trying to persuade me to come away and let him look after me. Maybe eat some dry toast. I was past listening to him though, thank God. I don’t know why he was so desperate to keep me away from anyone else’s help but if I’d done what he said then things would have gotten worse.

Much worse.

But even the A&E doctors said I was fine. They told me to go home, even though I needed a wheelchair by this time to get anywhere close to the hospital exit. They sent me via the pharmacy to get anti-sickness medicine and I filled two vomit bowls up while I was waiting to be served before I went back and asked them to please have another look.

So reluctantly they kept me in and finally, after much hanging around, I talked to a surgeon who I guess had time to look properly and know what he was looking at.

It was this guy that told me the news. And it wasn’t good news.

It turned out that dry toast wasn’t going to solve the problem. Nor was anti-sickness medicine.

I had a growth inside my bowel; a growth that was as big as a cooking apple. There was only a little hole left for the food to get through and that food had been backing up inside me for some time. Something was going to rupture if I wasn’t careful and I was running out of time.

This cancerous thing had been in there, growing and festering for a long time, and something had to be done. Right away.

So they took me into hospital and they cut the fucker out and with it seventy percent of my bowel. It was like being in Hell and these strange, claustrophobic visions snatched at my mind, trying to suck me down. I’d been unwell for a while but suddenly I was practically an invalid, all the strength and vitality knocked out of me.

But I started the long road back to recovery. And thank God for my friends and family, coming round and being there; especially that one special person who has never left my side. I guess I’m very lucky to have someone I can always count on, and no matter how tragic and difficult life can get, it seems it only serves to draw us closer together.

I was well and truly knocked off my feet by all this and there were more challenges to come.

But what about the writing? That’s the subject that we’re here for after all. That’s the question drawing us on.

Was the writing going to continue?

Because suddenly I was in excruciating pain in a hospital bed and the chance of me getting the next story episode out was looking bleak. Even when I got out of there I was exhausted, and then the next batch of good news started to roll in.

Because it wasn’t over. It wasn’t going to be as simple as that.

I had cancer and it had spread to my liver.

In fact the way people started to treat me gave an oblique impression that things weren’t looking too good. The government was there with a very generous monthly payout and I was given a disabled badge for the car. Clearly they seemed to know something I didn’t about the path awaiting me. One doctor, whom I rather accurately renamed Doctor Death, painted a very grim picture of my future regarding statistical chances that seemed low enough to weep over. So I did.

I enrolled in my chemo and started the treatments and got a bit better and a bit worse and a bit better and a bit worse.

But going back to writing was hard, even though it’s right up there as one of the most important things in my life.

You see the drugs and the discomfort were working their grisly magic on me, destroying my concentration and sapping my energy. The grim pronouncements of Doctor Death were scratching away at me too.

It’s hard to plan to write a series of novels or even just one if you aren’t sure you’re going to be there to craft the climax. That 716 book target didn’t seem possible anymore. Even a three book mission seemed likely to be out of grasp.

But things actually started to pick up.

The chemo did well. Even Doctor Death started to talk more optimistically. It looked like maybe I could have some more surgery; cut what had spread into my liver out and maybe; just maybe; get a clear bill of health... for a while at least.

Except the pain started to get worse again, and worse again, and I ended up back in hospital just to manage it. I’m dosed to the gills right now on painkillers.

Because these things aren’t cut and dried. There isn’t a ready answer to how things will proceed.

The latest tests show that there’s no point cutting the liver cancer out because it’s in my lymph nodes causing trouble and threatening to spread out elsewhere. So no more surgery for now (which is good) but more chemo to come (which is bad).

It’s all kind of up in the air and nobody knows what will happen. I’m carefully not asking too many questions. The doctors don’t know what will happen anymore than I do and speculation can be... frankly terrifying.

We choose to be optimistic, my family and me. We choose to be happy. We choose to plan for a future.

And I plan to go on writing for as long as I can.

Fuck the pain. Pain is something I can ignore as long as the writing juices are flowing. And when the pain gets too bad, well I just signed up for Netflix. Netflix will get me through.

It’s a very interesting thing, having this happen; learning you might die. It really makes you think.

Lying in my hospital bed I put a lot of thought into the nature of that elusive happy ending we’re told will be waiting for us when we’re children.

And you know what I realised?

I realised that I was living it. I am living happily ever after. I have a wonderful partner who I just married. We have two perfect little kids.

There’s this thing hanging over us that might get better... or might get worse. But each day we’re doing the stuff that makes us happy. Little things. Happy things. Just spending time and being close and making the very most of each day.

And it also got me to reflecting about my writing.

You see for many, many years I didn’t make it as a writer at all. I was trying to get published conventionally and nobody was buying. That was kind of depressing. But things are different now. My transformation stories found a little home on the internet and people came to find them. And to enjoy them.

I don’t make millions from my book sales but what’s more important to me is that I have that creative outlet, to share the stories I come up with. I post my episodes on my blog and get loads of feedback and appreciation and I can publish any book I want, whenever I want. I’m living the dream I always dreamed and have no regrets whatsoever.

Nobody can say what the future holds. Maybe I’ll get worse and worse now and drift away into oblivion and maybe things will turn around and I’ll still be pumping out those 716 books when I’m a hundred years old.

I choose to believe it’s the latter and live my life accordingly.

So let me pop a couple more pain pills and bolster my back with a cushion, then settle back to work on my next little tale of transformation.

Keep on living and dreaming until there’s no breath left to do it with. That’s the plan.

And maybe; just maybe; I’ll reach my one hundredth birthday after all.

I hope you’re there to help me celebrate.





33 comments:

  1. Cancer sucks, I'm so profound (sarcasm). In the past few years I've known several people who gotten cancer. I haven't figured what to Say to any of them room I hope you forgive the banality of this post, but not as much as I hope that you do make 100. Though if you do you'll have to keep writing (greedy prick aren't i?)

    ReplyDelete
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    1. Thanks John. And I will keep writing as long as I can.

      Delete
  2. I'm not normally given to emotional outbreaks but my eyes are a bit blurry right now. I'm lucky enough to have a partner like you, too. We've been a couple for 51 years and married for 49 of them so I know how valuable that is for you - that and your kids are the most important things as I'm sure you know.

    I'm sure you also know how we Finnfans value your well-being even more than we value your writing. So do you what you need to stay happy and well for your partner and children.

    Robyn H

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    1. Writing makes me happy so I'm going to fit it in as much as I can. I'm trying to manage the pain medication to allow me to write more. I must get Cleaner 2 finished and then get onto the next New You anthology.

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  3. I know how your partner feels my wife has a blood cancer which I cannot pronounce but is in remission. I have diabetes and even though I exercise it is still very hard but one of the things that keeps me going is the anticipation of your excellent stories but that is nothing compared to your health continue to get better for your loving family and keep believing in your recovery for the mind is a powerful thing
    I will continue to pray for your complete recovery and for your family

    Rob

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    1. Prayer is always gratefully received, thank you.

      I think this kind of thing can be hardest on those we love. I'm just so grateful they are there for me.

      Delete
  4. Thank you for sharing that with us. May I just say that this tells us a great deal about some very commendable traits within your personality. That kind of experience would flatten me, but the fact that you manage to put it to one side is of considerable credit to you. I know people would say 'what else to do, but carry on' but I feel that is much easier said than done.

    Personally I feel that life is all about having others reflect back to you what you are and what you have achieved. In that way, may I please say that your writing has always touched something deep inside of me and that I have always been, and will continue to be, one of your most ardent fans. You have given me a lot of pleasure over many years, so thank you and I will be always hoping for the very best for you all.

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    1. Thanks Mike. That means a lot to me, as does the support of all you guys.

      You would not believe how big a difference it makes, staring into the abyss, that no matter what happens, I did reach an audience who came to know and enjoy my writing. After struggling in obscurity for so many years, the fact that readers enjoy my stories is one of the most important things in my life and really allows me to look back on my life as something worthwhile after all.

      Delete
  5. Only the good die young, which should be a comfort to us both! Keep up your positive attitute, Emma. It makes a huge difference in recoveries. My thoughts & prayers arewith you, as always.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Maybe I should be more evil then...

      (Heh heh heh)

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  6. It just goes to show that intuition is often a savour. The stories aside I’m glad that you are on the road to recovery, sounds like an addict and I truly hope that you make the 100. My prayers are with you and your family. Regards, Chris

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    1. Thanks Chris. I'll do my best to keep going.

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  7. Dear Emma,
    Thank you so much for posting this. There is a lot of strength (and talent) in you and you have your family and friends to support you, which is already a lot more than most people have when faced with fate. I really hope your writing will also help you recover. I am knocking on wood and crossing my fingers, but something tells me that all will be good with you.

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  8. Cancer is an evil that I have never faced and your story gave me pause to reflect on what an incredibly fantastic woman lies behind the stories that I enjoy so much.
    The love of family gives us the power to endure more than we think possible and they bring the light to our darkest days.

    Continue to get well. My thoughts and prayers are with you and yours.

    --Robert

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    Replies
    1. Thanks pal. Keep reading and I'll keep writing.

      Delete
  9. An Appreciative Reader12 May 2016 at 16:18

    Wow what an honest, open and heartfelt post...

    About your writing skills I hope you have NO doubts. Those of us that have found your little corner on the Internet are devotees, I think that much is obvious!

    Health is so important so I am wishing you any kind of prayer/luck/superstition/scientific discovery to aid you. Life events do place things in focus, as we can see from your post. Number one is you have the love and support of your family, clearly. Number two is that you have a passion, to write, that you are very VERY good at and can share. And number three is you have a whole bunch of people out here who love your work but even despite its brilliance would rather see you well than another chapter of Cleaner 2.

    Although if we could have both, that would be even better...

    Take care, be strong! x

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    1. Awwww, thank you. Knowing how much you guys enjoy my writing makes me so happy and makes life worthwhile; really. I struggled with doubts about my writing for two decades before I found this outlet. Thank God I did! And thank you so much for reading.

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  10. You are a tough broad, Emma.
    Always keep in mind that cancer is on the loosing side and you are winning that battle.
    Never doubt.

    God bless you.

    Marc

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    1. Thanks Marc. I will endeavour to kick cancer's ass up and down the playing field.

      Delete
  11. Emma.
    I am astonished, that while you are suffering so much you take the time to explain yourself, you are a goddess and so therefore surely immortal. Please please please stay positive.
    I have to say now however, sorry I don`t think I`ll be able to make your 100th
    BillA

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    1. Never say never Bill! Maybe we'll both be in robot bodies by then!

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  12. You're a hero and I love you very much,

    Pod

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    Replies
    1. Thanks Pod. I love you too. You're the best brother I could have hoped for.

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  13. A tear in my eye but love in my heart for you, Emma Finn. Even a smile in places.

    You have touched us all with your writing and ever may you do so. Keep on keeping on, and follow your dream. I for one can't wait read more of your wonderful words.

    Dx

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    1. I'm so happy to hear from you after all this time. Thank you.

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  14. I feel privileged to call you my friend. I bask in the glory of your written works and will continue to read every single word you write. I will strive to be your "Constant Reader". It will be no great hardship to me.
    But you are so much more than your publicised works, and I am proud to know you and your family. You are a gifted soul with more than the one string to your particular bow.
    Thank you for teaching me to play guitar. Thank you for encouraging me to write. Thank you for your support when I have needed it, and for when I didn't. Thank you for being my friend.
    Although I can't promise to be physically with you when you turn 100, I will be there in spirit. Of that you can be sure.
    May you live in peace and experience joy every day.
    Finntasia x

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    1. Thank you my good friend. Your friendship has and always will mean so much to me.

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  15. infamous Auntie P13 May 2016 at 16:46

    Dear Emma,
    Thank you for sharing your story: the highs and lows, the bad and worse. Throughout it all you have support and love from all your family, friends and extended family through your creative work.
    Keep on being strong ,keep up the hope but also know the power of prayer. All your followers are praying for you, your family too.
    I am also praying that God gives you the strength to believe in Him and whatever the outcome there will be a future for you.

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    1. Thank you. Prayer sounds like exactly what I need.

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  16. Dear Emma,

    Your story has moved me deeply. You are a very strong woman and I am confident that you will win the battle with this dark foe and live on to be 100!

    However, I cannot repress a sentiment of indignation and anger towards your irresponsible doctors. Even this retired chemical engineer knows that a "bloody potty" is an absolute medical emergency and should be treated with the utmost seriousness. An early intervention would have spared you much suffering!

    I wish you all the best!

    Richard
    Marl / Germany

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    1. Yeah. You said it. I'm quite angry with that doctor.

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  17. Best wishes for recovery, and I'm glad you have a special person to see it through.

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