How's my running going?

Let's just say that a few weeks ago I felt like the guy on the left side of the above image.

And I'm now feeling more like the other chap.

Pee

Ollie, ollie, ollie

I'm taking the little man for his first skateboarding session this afternoon.

I'm Ryan Sheckler and he's Kane.

Except I'm quite shit. So I'm not really like the mighty Ryan at all.

I push 'mongo' and ride 'goofy' but will probably teach the wee one to push off the back foot and ride regular.

Got it, dudes.

Pee

My bro' the (guitar) hero

The kiddies were spoilt rotten yesterday. All getting a hefty haul of gadgets and trinkets.

But the biggest 'wahooo' came when my brother gave our littlies the whole Guitar Hero Rock Band shebang - mic, guitar and drum kit. They screamed as only rock fans can.

So today our house resembles an odd mix of The Osbournes and The Osmonds. Whack. Warble. Whammy. Whack. Warble.

Quite funny to see them ripping into 'No Sleep Till Brooklyn'.

Word.

Pee

Me is a lucky boy

It's the perfect Christmas morning.

The kids were up and excited at 6.45am (which is considered an enormous sleep in).

They 'ooohed' and 'aaahed' at all the right moments when unwrapping their gifts.

We traded hugs.

And then, I got given the most awesome presents:

1. An unopened display box of CHiPs toy sunglasses from the late 70's.
2. A button badge maker - so I can customise designs for my jean jacket.

It's like being a little kid all over again.

Wow.

Pee

Popcorn and the past

"There's no such thing as an overnight success. Brantley Foster took two weeks."

So went the promo poster copy for the 1987 Michael J. Fox comedy, 'The Secret Of My Success'.

I remember it like yesterday.

'Cos I went to it about 9,768 times.

'Why on earth would you?', I hear you ask.

I was studying film at university and chose this flick for my thesis on composition (script and vision).

Our professor organised endless free cinema tickets for our feature of choice so we could take notes and scribble diagrams (remember, there was no such thing as the Internet - well, for mass consumption that is).

Unfortunately, I've lost the said assignment. But in honour of the exercise I rent the movie every year.

Yesterday I was lucky enough to pick it up for keeps for $6.99 on DVD (it's pretty hard to find).

I'll watch it tonight and think about all that's happened since those innocent 1987 days.

And like Mike's character, Brantley Foster, give (quiet) thanks to all the kind people who've allowed me to enjoy my own big city adventures for the last 10 years.

Pee

One word to sum up one heck of a year . . .

And that word?

Belief.

Belief in yourself. Belief in those around you. Belief in the odds. Belief in the system. Belief in today. And most importantly, belief in tomorrow.

It's a little word, belief.

But it's a word that's huge in terms of how you choose to live your life.

Pee

Fanta Claus?

The Coca-Cola Company brilliantly 'invented' the modern day Father Christmas with their delicious red-and-white-suited jolly charmer way back last century.

And for the first time in just about as long, I'll be without the sugary brown water this Xmas.

But will more than make up for it enjoying the smiles and laughter of my three children.

Who needs artificial stimulants when the energy of your loved ones brings so much flavour to this family-filled season?

Pee

Special times ahead

Christmas is nearly here. As is the summer (yes, NZ is warming up). As are longer days outdoors.

I've always loved the festive season. Not because of all the cool gifts (like my Six Million Dollar Man rhino/jeep set in 1978), but because of the friends and family that gather to drink, eat, laugh, sleep, and play together. Always with infectious optimism.

Yesterday we were at my parents' house helping them put up their Christmas tree when I stumbled upon my old 'Santa sack' - the one that housed all my Saint Nick goodies between 1972 - 1985 (give or take a year or two). I held it for about five minutes and just channelled all the wonderful memories - the places and the faces.

Very special. Very, very special.

Pee

'Pre'-season training

My all-time favourite runner is US legend, Steve (Pre) Prefontaine.

He always said that to give anything less than your very best was to waste your talent.

As I laced up my trainers for my first 'jog' since July 19th I had that thought ringing in my head.

Sadly, the body won out and after about 900 metres of usual 'Pee pace' I was screwed. Puffing. Coughing.

My poor lungs were clearly blowing out the cobwebs and shaking off the after effects of chemotherapy.

I was forced to 'fast walk' for the rest of my session. A little frustrating. And a little naff looking.

However, my second 'hit out' this morning was much better.

I will stick at it. 'Cos I love running. Always have. And it's gonna be a vital part of my return to full strength.

Will let you all know when I'm back to my Kenyan best.

Pee

This brought a happy tear of joy to my eye today . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbItoJlfSyI&feature=related

Pee

My results have arrived

So it's now two weeks since I had my final 'prescribed' round of chemotherapy (three sessions in all are usually what's required to 'deal with' seminoma testicular cancer).

Today was all about seeing how effective the treatment has been.

The news was pretty flippin' good thus far (but I'm reserving any hooting and hollering just in case I tempt fate).

My scan evidence showed that the remaining cancer (post having my nut removed) overtaking my gland (the reason I had such excruciating back pain) has shrunk heaps as a result of the chemotherapy and while there is a 'very small mass remaining' the oncologist suggested (as he always has) that it's very likely to be scar tissue (very common in this form of cancer).

The other guide as to whether there's any active cancer flowing in your veins is a review of a range of blood tumour markers. They were very abnormal pre surgery and pre chemotherapy. Results now show they're all back to normal. Which is great.

So in the words of my oncologist: "You've done really well. I don't see any need for any further treatment. We'll see you in early February for a check-up and then probably just have a blood test every quarter from there for a while to ensure all remains 'normal'.

While he did say: "9 times out of 10 this treatment is fully curative, and you've responded as we'd hoped", he obviously said he can't give me 100% guarantees because the human body is a complex thing. But he says it's all very positive. And we'll see you for a standard check-up early February.

I'm stoked that there's no more needles, drips, toxins on the horizon.

And even more thrilled to be back on board fulltime at work as of next Monday.

What a curious few months it's been.

Positivity onwards . . .

Pee

Half full or half empty?

Lou Lou Hawke sent me this super-cute photo last week.

Made me laugh so much.

I thought I'd post it as a tribute to 'positivity' (yep, the glasses are half full outlook).

Smile on y'all.

Clearly not the work of Fred Hollows.

Pee

First-up lessons from Keef

As a big fan of the mighty Keithmeister, I looked to his drug-injecting techniques to help me with my own self-administered G-CSF (white blood cell stimulants) abdomen hits.

Chuck on some chilled tracks. Kick back. Flick needle. Pinch skin (a variation on his 'find usable vein' directive). Inject. Plunge. Breathe in. Withdraw. Dispose (or in his case, save to use again).

Will follow the Chili Peppers' Keidis routine tomorrow for a bit of variety.

Then consult Renton from Trainspotting on Tuesday.

And cap it off with a nod to James Salant on Wednesday.

Aaaah, life in the suburbs currently.

Pee

Hello! Anybody there?

Sorry readers. Haven't posted of late because I've had no new news to speak of.

(And posting stinky fart stories must be wearing thin - hee hee.)

So here's a fortnight's update . . .

I now have just one full day left of my third (and hopefully final) round of chemotherapy this week.

Rather than stay in hospital for five days (hard work) the wonderful team at the day ward have opened early so I can do a full day at their place, meaning I head home each night - better food, better sleep. Bless them. They are truly angels.

Although my bloods (white cell counts - the infection fighters) were a little low to really start my third round this week, the oncologist has ordered me a five day course of a white cell stimulant called G-CSF from this Saturday through to next Wednesday which should effectively boost my counts before they start to fall post this round of chemo (it's a balancing act of medicine, maths and science).

The G-CSF will be fired into me via needle into the abdomen (insulin style). All good. What with the number of blood tests and IV lines I've had poked into me (not to mention tattoos), what's another needle or five?

So, post this week I now have an appointment booked with my oncologist for the 24th of November which will hopefully give me the full outcome of how the treatment's gone (including a review of the CT scan I had last week).

Has it killed all the cancer? Is there a little left? Or just scar tissue (which often occurs with my form of cancer treatment)?

Best case it'll be all good and I'll be routinely monitored over coming months/years for any 'abnormalities'.

Or, as insurance, if they are not fully sure whether it's scar tissue or 'a little active cancer' in the lower back gland that directly linked to my 'now long gone' right testicle, they might prescribe a little blast of radiotherapy directly on that site for good measure.

Standing by.

Positively.

Pee

Submerging you all in upcoming treatments

I thought I'd update everyone on the coming month-and-a half's medical schedule.

Plenty happening.

Today I'm off for a half-hour Bleomycin chemo dip (it's in and out for these little ones).

On Tuesday October 28th I'll pop in and do the same thing again.

The following day I'll visit the hospital for respiratory and audiology tests to check whether the chemotherapy has affected any lung or hearing functions - symptoms which return to normal post treatment.

Sometime late the same week I'll likely have a CT scan to map the retreating cancer and then finalise my treatment plan.

Given that stage two seminoma testicular cancer often leaves scar tissue in the lower back gland it's often difficult to be 100% certain externally that all the 'active' cancer has been completely removed (although blood tumour markers will reinforce the likelihood it has).

Depending on that CT scan result, I'll then likely simply finish my third round of chemotherapy the following week (assuming my white and red blood counts have returned to healthy levels).

That'll put the old calendar around mid-November. And it'll be rest and return to strength from there.

Oh yeah, with a trip to my urologist on November 26th for a coffee and a muffin and a ball bag presentation - so he can reflect on his handywork (lucky him).

Then all that's left are one-to-three monthly blood tests/occasional CT scans for the following two years to ensure the cancer has been well and truly licked.

Now you know.

Pee

Back home - better, stronger, chemically enhanced

A flat out week.

In a room with three others this time.

Broken sleep, strange noises and attentive nurses every night.

Puffed is me.

But I'm now two-thirds through my treatment and feeling great about that.

Did meet some extraordinary people.

Very humbling.

This disease picks on anyone at anytime. It doesn't discriminate.

The way different people deal with the fight is inspiring.

I have learnt so much about the human condition in the last few months - both physically and mentally.

REALLY looking forward to chatting with all of you this week and catching up on gossip.

Pee

My 150th post (golf themed) celebration!

The guy that loves ironing his wood.

Getting ready to whack one off.

Somewhere between the first and second holes of the ladies' round Robin.

Well, we've had cricket and tennis analogies. Why not golf?

Don't shoot the messenger. I'm simply honouring a reader's request (refer to the comments section of the post on Tuesday 7 October).

Hee hee.

I'm now teeing off towards the 200th blog posting.

Pee

With a bit of Ford planning . . .

. . . I wouldn't have missed a thing*.

The team were at the Australian International Motorshow in Sydney yesterday, helping launch the new Ford Fiesta (amongst other things).

I was disappointed I couldn't be there to enjoy the unveiling.

And sadly found out 36 minutes too late that the event organisers had jacked up a live webcast of all media reveals.

(Poohs and wees - I landed smack bang in the Toyota presentation - yawn, boo, hiss).

Had I known this 'live streaming' fact a little earlier I could've virtually been onsite (as the quality was incredible).

Nice one, gang. From the post-reveal piccies it looked like a job truly well done.

Pee

*Apart from the hours and hours of meticulous pre-production that goes into the delivery of any live initiative.

A literary mash-up

Still resting. Still restless. Still reading.

I now find that I get impatient with a book. Then see a new one I just can't wait to rip into.

So I've decided to have five on the go at any one time.

Read a couple of chapters of one. Then a few of another.

It's like channel surfing with books.

I call it 'chapter surfing'.

Or 'hang five, dudes'.

The titles pictured above are my current (and constant) companions.

Pee

Hmmm, how to mark the 150th blog post?

Animals in costumes? Dodgy laugh-o-grams?

The 50th saw Michael Hussey raise his bat.

The 100th had two streakers flashing their front bottoms.

How to outdo that?

Post your suggestions and the 'wrongest' idea will grace the said milestone.

Pee

My counts were a little down, so I'm home for a little longer . . .

Went into hospital for round two of chemotherapy as scheduled.

However, a blood test this morning showed my white cell count wasn't quite high enough to recommence treatment.

So, I'm back home until next Monday (when all should be back to normal).

Delaying the re-start by a week has no impact on the effectiveness of my treatment whatsoever. They factor in delays.

More importantly, they take every precaution to make sure your body is fighting fit at every turn.

Sorry to the guys from 'Beck: Mongolian Chop Squad'.

You've been evicted a lot sooner than I'd planned.

But I'm really happy that I'm being well looked after by my medical team.

Pee

約それらのため石に

人

私達はあなたの事実上の会場をどよめかせようと思っている。

それが釘付けされなければ、私達はそれを釘付けする。

Ryusuke

ありがとう、男

事実上の家をありがとう、小便。

しかし私達は私達がそれをきれい保つことを約束できない。

Koyuki。

I'll be beck soon . . .

I'm heading into hospital on Monday for another five-day resort stay.

If it wasn't for the drip in my arm for eight hours daily you'd be forgiven for thinking I was bunking off - what with a huge stack of books, DVDs and CDs in my suitcase.

I'll be offline for the week (but online as far as the IV goes).

I've let the gang from 'Beck: Mongolian Chop Squad' squat at this blog address until I'm back.

Let's hope they don't get all rawk 'n' roll on it.

See you when round two of chemo has done its good thing.

Pee

Me as a new Alpha (Dog) Male

With my hair starting to vacate my scalp I took Tara's advice yesterday and looked to set to it with an electric razor.

My Jo did the honours last night (she even shaped her first name initial into the back of my locks along the way).

How does it look post crop? I'll reveal all shortly.

However, rather optimistically I reckon I look like JT in 'Alpha Dog'.

Truth is I look more like Ben Foster from same said movie.

It's certainly an all-new sensation up top.

Pee

Puffing Philly

I was in at the hospital this morning having respiratory function checks ahead of next week's round two of chemotherapy.

They are checking to make sure that one of the cytotoxin drugs - Bleomycin - hasn't adversely affected my lung capacity (which it occasionally can do).

Most test results suggested it hasn't caused any problems. (Note: Lance Armstrong opted not to have Bleomycin during his testicular cancer treatment because he didn't want to risk any lung capacity reduction because his sporting/financial future obviously depended on a super set of blow bags.)

However, while sitting inside the test bubble/box I nearly popped out a little fart* while I was huffing and puffing. Had to do everything in my power to stop from giggling uncontrollably.

Another fun little life experience to file away.

Pee

*Speaking of farts (and I do a lot), yesterday I was in 'The Warehouse' (the Kiwi version of 'Costco') and all alone in a DVD aisle when a female retail assistant walked by and clearly released a proverbial 'silent but violent' air biscuit. It was rancid. More toxic than my post-chemo blasts. She then left me all alone in the aisle again, struggling with strangulation at the hands of her pungent, floating pooh flakes. Obviously I had no choice but to vacate the aisle in case someone entered the space and thought it was me. Which I wasn't prepared to risk. From the safety of the next aisle I watched for a few minutes as others entered the chemical spill zone and themselves struggled with the fumes. Hilarious. Finally, with a copy of 'Happy Days: Season One' and 'Rebel Without A Cause' in my hot little hands I headed to the sales counter where Miss Massive-Stink-Arse smiled and served me. I couldn't bring myself to say it, but was dying to suggest I get a discount on account of the stress her feral sphincter had caused me (and others). Yuk!

Hair, there and everywhere

Last night I noticed that my hair was starting to fall out.

Quite weird in that you could pull a clump firmly and it would just 'come right out'.

How do I feel about that?

Pretty good, actually. It means the cytotoxic content that has been pumped through my body is clearly doing its job.

I did wonder for a moment whether it had gone into my veins and leaked out of my shoes.

Now to find out what human hair fetches on eBay.

Or whether there's such a thing as the Hair Fairy. I'd simply have to turn my pillow over and rake in the coins.

Pee

Walking back to healthiness . . .

. . . woopah oh yeah yeah (my apologies to Helen Shapiro for butchering her song).

I must admit that one of my biggest wishes right now is to lace up my running shoes and go tearing down the local river bank - like the Kenyan athlete I am (my real name is actually Filbert Midugali).

However, for now, I have to make do with 'power walking' to help with my physical recovery.

There is one massive plus with this regime. You're effectively slowed down so you have to 'stop and smell the roses'.

And listen to the birds. And look at the crazy cloud patterns in the sky. Basically, the everyday little things you largely ignore as you rush through this life.

And I reckon that's kinda cool, too.

Pee

The bookworm catches the early blurb

I'm reading a whole stack of stuff at the moment (hours attached to a chemotherapy drip forces you to chill).

From business and brand marketing tomes, to trash mags, to Abraham Lincoln biographies, to the making of Walt Disney's 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs' animated epic, to the two non-fiction titles pictured above.

Dave Gorman writes superbly. I'm hoping to learn from that.

While the musical lifestyle in Laurel Canyon in the 60's/70's makes one wish for the warmth of summer and the smell of freshly cut grass (take that any which way you will - there's no right or wrong interpretation).

Am about to get back into Andy Warhol's 'POPism'.

Pee

'Buddy' and the boys - Wow!

Having supported the Hawthorn Hawks for some eight seasons now, today I tasted what many footy fans never experience in a lifetime - their team winning a premiership.

There I was, sitting in front of the telly, wearing my trusty brown and yellow beanie and shouting like a bastard at the screen. (Morty, I can only imagine how hard you celebrated.)

A great sporting result certainly helps in the ol' recovery/healing process.

And I've had heaps to bolster my strength in the last few weeks - the All Blacks picking up the Tri-Nations and Bledisloe Cup, the Warriors smacking all before them in the NRL finals*, and the Wellington NPC side claiming the Ranfurly Shield as well as heading the championship table.

But none of those quite as sweet as today's 'flag'.

Pee

* Um, I spoke to soon. The Warriors got shafted by Manly on Saturday night. Arse.

Rockin' the R-B's

Like an albino Cruisemeister from Risky Business, here's me modelling my new white Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunnies.

Moby-style laundry chic.

Pee

PS - I changed the piccie in this post 'cos people were asking 'do you still have hair?'. Yes. Clearly I do. It's just pretty short.

The (un)Pretty Scar Series # 4

Sorry to bring down the quality of this virtual exhibition, but here's a quick peek at about 65% of my groin scar.

The other 35% would likely get me into trouble.

Pee

No real side effects, thus far

Post-chemo you're advised to watch carefully for side effects.

The list goes something like this: mouth ulcers; shivers and shakes; shortness of breath; pain on weeing; inflamed cuts; vomiting and diarrhoea; blood in urine or bowels; blood in vomit; cuts that won't stop bleeding; unexplained bruising; ringing in the ears; unexplained tiredness; a productive cough and finally, hair loss.

Sheeeeeesh.

I'm proud to report that I've added one to the list.

And I'm assuming it's left out of the cancer pamphlets because it's embarrassing?

The side effect?

Toxic farts.

We're talking the type of stench that could probably pull a Black Hawk chopper from the sky. Little filo-pastry-type packages of pungent and putrid purpose. Ghastly.

Pegs on noses at a thousand yards, people.

Pee

My new little PeeBoy logo

Have been getting very interested in 50's cereal packaging icons of late.

Decided to create my very own traditional advertising character to print on t-shirts.

The wee guy represents optimism and wonder.

Thought I'd share.

Pee

Feeling like a giANT

"Up high I feel like I'm alive for the very first time, up high I'm strong enough to take these dreams and make them mine."

Pee

Hit the strip mall for lunch today . . .

Kinda felt a little like the 'King of Pop'* when he heads out in public.

You see, my white blood cell count will be pretty low for the next 4-5 days which means I have to take care not to deliberately shack up with sick folk in case I pick up an infection.

While the doctors tell you to 'get on with your life as usual' I must admit my radar was scanning for dodgy-looking buggers who might be hacking up their lungs all over the fluoro-lit walkways.

Pee

* Or 'Wacko Jacko' depending on how you view him

Me so lucky

My Jo has just turned me onto the wicked food superpower that is Miso soup.

It's a daily ritual for me now - complementing a tray of fresh sushi.

I'll apologise again for talking about nutrient-brilliant yumminess as though I'm the only one who has ever tried Bircher muesli, vegetarian curry, fresh beetroot and carrot juice blah blah rant rant blah.

But it's a completely new thrill for me.

My taste for sugary junk is now so far away it could be a cut off a classic Dire Straits album.

Pee

Like LSD, BEC has opened my eyes to Dylan

My anti-cancer chemical cocktail, BEC (Bleomycin, Etoposide and Cisplatin), has finally allowed me to hear Bob Dylan the way that others have heard his 'genius' for years.

Previously, I've kinda struggled with the nasal sway and loose melodies.

Yesterday I listened to the track 'Tangled Up In Blue' and drifted to somewhere quite special.

I'm about to dive back into my acid-fuelled vinyl collection and let the wax drip its long-kept secrets all over me.

The Grateful Dead, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Guess Who, and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young for starters.

I'll keep you posted.

Pee

I'm back home - dipped in fresh chemicals

Wow. What a week.

Intravenous lines in both arms.

Daily blood tests.

Some 42 hours of fluids being pumped into my veins. Much of those fluids being a mix of Cisplatin, Bleomycin and Etoposide - the chemicals responsible for killing the cancer cells in my body (which theoretically should already be on their way out).

Diuretic treatments, too - I gained 2 kg one afternoon from all the fluids. I peed seven times in 21 minutes.

I read books, I paced, I watched DVDs, I ate, I paced, I watched the clock, I wriggled, I paced, I laughed with the doctors and nurses. And above all, felt grateful for my diagnosis. Others I was with face a much harder fight.

Having my own cubicle was a blessing. Again, it was kind of like the Holiday Inn but without the mini bar.

I head back to the Cancer and Blood Centre on Monday for one further dose of Bleomycin (a half hour procedure) and am then resting at home for a fortnight before doing it all over again.

I'm one-third through and feeling great.

Thanks to everyone for their kind words last week.

You can bet I'll be chatting to you all over the coming days.

Your voices are the best medicine in the world.

Pee

Welcome back, Carulli

From the looks of this snap taken when you touched down at Sydney Airport I'm thinking you had a little 'work' done while in Hell-A.

Hee hee.

Can't wait to catch up at the end of November.

Pee

The Pretty Scar Series # 3

I'm not a doctor, but having spent many hours with medical specialists over recent weeks, I'd say this is definitely the result of a courageous encounter with a great white shark.

Pee

A puff and a pull

All in a day's work . . .

Earlier this morning I was in a glass box huffing and puffing into a respiratory research contraption to capture baseline lung capacity readings.

Why?

Because some of the chemicals I'll be served over coming weeks could potentially reduce the power of my body's bellows.

During chemotherapy treatment they'll pop me back in the box and make me do the panting all over again - monitoring my progress as a precaution.

Then, this afternoon, I shuffled off to the Fertility Centre for one final wrist-off ahead of possible drug-induced sterility.

I was excited to find they had booked me into a different 'spank tank' this time.

Plenty of new printed stimulus material was at hand.

Including a 150-page pornorama called 'Fiesta'.

Don't think I'll be recommending it as a glovebox giveaway at Ford's upcoming new model launch.

Pee

I reckon 'bureaucracy' might just prevent cancer

After much chasing, many phone calls and paper trails this week it's finally official: I start chemotherapy this coming Monday.

Tell you what, if it was as hard for cancer to get into your system as it is for you to get into the system to get the cancer out of your system I'm sure the carcinogenic cells would give up before they caused any damage to anyone.

Pee

The Pretty Scar Series # 2

Here's another shot I've just 'added' to the virtual exhibition.

I guess that means it's an appendix.

Pee

'You might wanna take that outfit back . . .

. . . it's got a big tear in it'.

Hee hee.

There's no way I can really justify a picture like this on my blog.

It doesn't fit any criteria.

Sure, I could post-rationalise an angle - 'the birth of the new me blah blah blah'.

But really, why?

This is simply an image that deserves to be shared.

Whoever invented the interweb deserves another pat on the back.

Pee

Sweeeeeeeeet!

I've boasted about this before.

But thought I'd proudly boast again.

I haven't touched a Coca-Cola (or any other sugary, carbonated beverage) for some 51 days.

And no processed, sweet and savoury treats (lollies, biscuits, cakes and chips) have been shoved into my gob for 27 days.

I'm feeling a ton better for it.

There's plenty to be said for goodness-filled fruits and vegetables.

And plenty to be heard (if my bum trumpet is anything to go by).

Surely I'm over the addiction to junk by now?

If only I could shake my addiction to treacly music ballads.

Pee

My friend the 50+ lady DJ

As I've been noodling with JMW work today I've had the radio humming away in the background.

It's an easy listening channel I'm tuned into.

The voice of the female announcer is so warm, friendly and comforting.

I don't know who she is but I feel like I've known her forever.

Might have to tune in when I'm in hospital for chemotherapy.

She can be my virtual caregiver.

Pee

There was drama in the air, alright

I watched my daughter at her after-school drama workshop on Monday.

She was delighted (and mightily relieved) I dressed up for the occasion.

By dressing up she mean't I was wearing my normal jeans/hoody streetwear.

You see for much of the last six weeks I've been wearing dodgy at-home-comfort clothing (much like the guy pictured above).

Her biggest fear was not the live performance but the fact that Dad might front in his 'cancer clothes' (her words not mine).

Pee

Squeezing the tube

Ever since I can remember I've been using a full-sized toothpaste tube.

More recently I've been forced to use an economy tube. It's half the size of the normal offering.

Which has had me wondering: 'Does the same amount of toothpaste come out when you squeeze the half-as-big tube?'

The answer's an absolute 'yes'.

Thought some of you might like to know.

Pee

This advertisement deserves eight golds, too

Firstly, let me re-state for the record that this blog is first and foremost about my starring role in a big-stakes documentary called 'Radical Orchidectomy and the Chemical Infusion' (aka 'Pee's Affair With Cancer').

And even though my professional life is largely consumed by brand stuff I wanted to keep this site free of work musings.

However, yesterday I saw a print advertisement that warmed my very soul (so I'm placing this post in the 'Pee's positivity and happiness' drawer). Yes, a print advertisement - that form of communication most popular (and effective) pre-1990.

In a brilliant stroke of 'humility' (and fan-savvy branding) ESPN honoured Michael Phelps' eight Olympic gold medals at the same time as boldly stating that for the 9 nights of the mighty one's pursuit of history the team at ESPN were also tuned into opposition network NBC's pool coverage.

What a great piece of guerilla-total-sports-fans-are-we-reverse-psychology-meets-we've-just-muscled-into-the-conversation-although-we-were-not-an-official-sponsor type of thing.

Its cheekiness and brand relevance made me smile. Lots.

Pee