We must stop meeting like this

Yesterday was check-up day at my local oncology unit and as I was waiting to see the doc, whose cool nose should I find pushing itself under my arm but the lovely guide dog Bradley's (see previous post.) By sheer coincidence Margaret, his owner, was in for a check-up too. It was great to catch up with her news and cuddle Bradley, and by the time my turn came to see the doctor I was covered in dog hairs. So what else is new!

As I was browsing the UK's BBC news website today I came across a wonderful story about a lady who has been battling breast cancer for nearly 20 years and still has managed to give birth to a beautiful baby daughter. Click here to read the full story.

Another brave breast cancer warrior is Ottawa-based Sylvie Fortin. Have a look at her blog, Breast Cancer Victory - click here.

And to round off today's post, some cute one-liners attributed to performers at the recent Edinburgh Festival in Scotland - courtesy of Joe Hoare...

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I realised I was dyslexic when I went to a toga party dressed as a goat.

Cats have nine lives. Which makes them ideal for experimentation.

The right to bear arms is slightly less ludicrous than the right to arm bears.

My dad is Irish and my mum is Iranian, which meant that we spent most of our family holidays in Customs.

You have to remember all the trivia that your girlfriend tells you, because eventually you get tested. She'll go: "What's my favourite flower?" And you murmur to yourself: "Hell, I wasn't listening. Self-raising?"

I saw that show, 50 Things To Do Before You Die. I would have thought the obvious one was "Shout For Help".

'Employee of the month' is a good example of how somebody can be both a winner and a loser at the same time.

I like to go into the Body Shop and shout out really loud "I've already got one!"

I enjoy using the technique of self-deprecation - but I'm not very good at it.

If you're being chased by a police dog, try not to go through a tunnel, then on to a little seesaw, then jump through a hoop of fire. They're trained for that.

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My check-up went OK and the mammogram was clear. But we're still waiting for Herceptin. I'm due back there in November and fingers crossed, our noble Health Service should have run out of excuses to delay treatment by then.

See you soon! Sz

Bradley and Margaret are media stars

You will probably recall the lovely blind lady, Margaret, with whom I shared many a chemo session (see archives) ... along with her beautiful guide dog Bradley the Golden Retriever.

Anyway imagine my delight when I saw this recent article in my local newspaper, the Milton Keynes Citizen...

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Margaret joins the village people!

A blind woman recovering from cancer is the first of hundreds seeking a home at Willen retirement village to be allocated a place there.

Sixty-two-year-old Margaret Helsey and partner Ray Wall will live in a two-bedroom apartment overlooking communal gardens when they and 350 other residents move into Lovat Fields next summer.

Margaret said: "It's been a tough year but this news has put me on a real high. I was crying when I was told."

She says she and her partner will not feel so "isolated" in their new surroundings and she will be able to call on special support if needed.

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I've lost touch with Margaret now that we've both finished chemo, but I'm sure you'll join me in wishing her well should she visit CancerComicStrip.

And at the top of this post is the picture that goes with the newspaper article, reproduced by kind permission of the Milton Keynes Citizen ...

Isn't Bradley gorgeous? You can see now why I used to return from my chemo sessions shared with Margaret and Bradley covered in dog's hair...

Now, to round off today's post with a funny - well, this ain't called CancerComicStrip for nothing - here is my favourite doggie joke, excerpted from my very own joke book called "Canine Capers" (if you'd like to buy a copy, and I do need to sell some books now and again to help pay the bills so it would be nice, click here if you're in the UK and click here if you're in the USA. Most of the other Amazons carry the book too.)

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At the height of the arms race, the Americans and Russians realised that, if they continued, before long they would finish up by destroying the world. So they discussed the issue at a top secret summit meeting and decided to settle the whole argument with a dogfight.

The negotiators agreed that each country would take five years to develop the best fighting dog they could. The winning dog would earn its country the right to rule the world. The losing country would have to lay down its arms.

The Russians found the biggest, fiercest Dobermans and Rottweilers in all of the Soviet Union. They cross-bred them and then crossed their offspring with the fiercest Siberian wolves. They selected only the biggest, strongest puppy from the final litter, removed all the other puppies and left the lone dog to grow strong and large. They used steroids and rigorous training in aggression and ruthless killing power. Finally when the five years were up, they had a dog that oozed murder from every pore and had to be restrained in cage made from steel girders. Only the trainers could handle this beast, and even they had to exercise extreme caution.

When the day of the final fight dawned, the Americans arrived with a bizarre animal. It was a nine-foot-long Basset Hound. The Russians pitied the Americans. None of them thought this weird dog stood a chance against the growling monster in the Russian cage. Bookies around the world lay very short odds on the Russians winning in a matter of seconds.

The cages were opened and the dogs released. The Basset Hound waddled towards the middle of the ring. The Russian dog leapt from his cage and charged the giant sausage-dog.

The moment the two dogs met, the Basset Hound opened its jaws and consumed the Russian monster in one mouthful. There was nothing left but a few tufts of fur from the Russian dog's tail.

The Russians walked over to the Americans, blinking their eyes in disbelief. "We cannot comprehend. Our foremost scientists and trainers laboured for five years with the strongest, fiercest Dobermans, Rottweilers and Siberian wolves. They created a killing machine."

"You don’t say," the Americans replied. "Well, we got our foremost cosmetic surgeons labouring for five years to make a crocodile look like a Basset Hound."

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Have a great weekend! SUZE

Am I a cynic or what?

First of all, I have to tell you how much my son and I enjoyed a wonderful visit with our Barb of the drive-thru mastectomy when we visited her in St Paul, MN, at the end of August. Thank you Barb for a terrific time and a fascinating introduction to your twin cities, straddling the Mississippi and stop-off point for many famous bootlegging gangsters way back when. (And your cooking was just great!)

A few days ago a friend sent me one of these poems, supposedly written by a cancer-stricken child and if you sent it out to all your contacts a few cents would be paid for each one into a cancer charity.

Well, many people have told me that these emails are scams and that we should just delete them, because they don't benefit anyone.

OK, I can see that.

But ... whoever wrote this poem (cancer-patient child, adult, professional writer or whoever) has captured some ideas that crossed my mind while I was going through treatment and still cross my mind now. More than that, it is beautiful. My thanks to whoever wrote it, and if it is genuine, I hope it really does inspire contributions to cancer research.

Here it goes:

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SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done!
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say,"Hi"
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

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Yes, beautiful, huh? Let's hope the people who promote it are as beautiful and sincere as the poem is. For those who want to check it out, it appears the person to contact is:

Dr. Dennis Shields, Professor
Department of Developmental and Molecular Biology
1300 Morris Park Avenue
Bronx , New York 10461

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Love to all

SUZE