Archives: Firsts

Today marked the biggest first in my new life since I took my deepest post-transplant breath off the ventilator – I joined a gym and began a programme of real, bona fide physical exercise.

It kind of feels like everything I’ve been doing since I escaped from the hospital has been gearing up for this moment. Finally getting into good physical shape, being fit and strong, has been one of the goals in my life that has always eluded me. For years I’ve wanted to get in shape and every time I’ve tried I’ve been stopped – either by physical resistance, lack of will power or full-on hospitalisation. In the end, the idea of achieving anything physically was about as far from my thoughts as anything, although it remained something I knew I’d strive for as soon as I got my transplant.

The induction today went brilliantly – the trainers at the gym are exceptional and really know their stuff. Not only had he spoken to my physios at Harefield to find out what I should and shouldn’t be doing and what sort of benchmarks I should be aiming for at this point, 13 weeks post-transplant, but he’d also been doing private reading into transplantation and fitness.

After a quick general once-over, including a grip-strength and flexibility test (proving I am officially the least flexible person in the entire world), we set off to do a quick circuit of the machines I’d be using. I’ve a detailed programme of cardio work to do for a couple of weeks, increasing steadily, before we think about adding in some resistance work to help build my muscles strength and tone (the vanity bit).

I’m doing a 5-minute cycle warm-up, followed by 5 minutes on the most evil invention in the world – the cross-trainer. I’ve never felt anything quite as horrible as the physical exhaustion that sets in so incredibly quickly when you’re pumping your arms and swirling your legs on some weird approximation of Nordic skiing. When I’ve recovered from that I’ve got 500m to row, followed by the main aim of the workout, the treadmill.

My short-term goal for my training is to be able to run a mile my April 13, when I hit Tresco to finish the marathon with my bro (sponsor me/us here). Our trainer at the gym thinks this is something I can build to and has set me on a build-up program on the treadmill. I walk for 2 minutes as a warm up, then aim to run/jog for a minute, take 2-3 minutes to recover at walking pace before another minute’s worth of jogging, then walk it off. The idea being that each time I go I can gradually decrease the rest/walk time between runs and increase the time I’m running until I can manage 10 minutes at a jog, which should – plus a little extra effort for a couple of minutes – see me over the finish line.

For those of you interested in following my progress up to the big day, I’ve kicked off a training-blog at trescomile.wordpress.com to keep track of my training and keep me honest – those of you with big sicks to wield will need to keep a close eye on how I’m doing. Unlike my slightly shabby updates on this blog, I hope to be disciplined enough to update the training blog after each session. (Chance’d be a fine thing…).

Today also saw the two of us catch up with an old friend and work colleague of K’s who’s celebrating her 21st tonight. Still not being able to properly put myself out and about in a busy pub of an evening, we decided to mark the event with a trip to Krispie Kreme and coffee at home instead.

The trip to KK served us well enough to take a tasty treat over to S&G in the evening, too, where we had a great natter and catch up with them both whilst introducing Suze to the delights of the glazed donut. Was great to catch up – we talked so much we didn’t even get chance to play a pay-back game of music Buzz that K was so desperate for, since I kicked her butt at movie Buzz the last time the four of us were together. But then, everyone knows I know nothing about music, so it’s hardly humiliating to get trounced. The bug embarrassment is losing movie Buzz to someone and since that someone last time was Gary, I made sure we weren’t going to be playing that again…

I say family, because to me my Godson is my family, although technically the bloodline isn’t there. But today I got to spend a few hours round at his place playing, chatting, introducing K to him and his wonderful parents and it was so lovely as to be almost indescribable. But you know me, I’m going to try…

K had to work all morning, which left me at home to my own devices, something which is never the greatest of ideas when I’ve got something to look forward to in the afternoon, because I tend to not be able to think of much else and so meaningful work is always a little hit-and-miss.

As it happens, I managed to use the time to surf the internet for filmmaking websites and news and such, which has helped inspire and drive me forward with a few of the projects I’ve got rolling along in the background at the moment. My docs at Harefield are keen for me not to start doing any “real” work for a while (6-12 months post-op), which is both freeing and frustrating. There are many things I want to do with myself right now and a few projects I REALLY want to get going on, but at the same time I’m sure in the long run the enforced slow-down will only benefit them all by making me take stock of them properly and devote enough time to thinking them through and planning them properly.

I picked K up from work at half two and we shot straight over to Little R’s house to catch up with them for the first time in…well…. blinkin’ ages. I thought his Mum wasn’t ever going to let me go from the massive bear-hug I was enveloped in no sooner had I stepped over the threshold. Not that I’m moaning, you understand, since I felt pretty much the same way seeing all them again.

I feel like I’ve been so much out of R’s life for so long now, since he lives so close, but it’s been such a struggle for me to get to see him. Now I’m starting out again, I’m hoping we can rebuild our relationship back to how it was early on before I got too ill to do anything with him. We’re already planning an ice-skating trip for the Easter holidays!

Plus, I got to be made hugely jealous at the family’s beautiful home cinema set-up. Not only have they got a PS3 (with Blu-ray, which just won the HD DVD format war for those of you who missed that piece of news) but also a gorgous 40″ HDTV and surround sound system to play it through. I’m not the most materialistic man on the planet, but I have to confes to a slight weakening of the knees when it comes to film-watching in the home (and filmmaking outside of the home…). Anything else I can take or leave – if it’s film-related I think I’d rather take it. Terrible of me, I know.

K and I then came back and veg’d good and proper for the night – some lovely sausage-and-chips comfort food and a night in front of the telly.

We caught the new series on BBC3 Being Human, which I have to say massively impressed me. The idea of a flat-share between a Vampire, a Werewolf and a Ghost didn’t do a whole lot for me on reading the listings, but the result was much more heartfelt, funny, dramatic and touching than I ever expected. It’s well worth checking out, if you can cope with the scary subject matter. It’s not really gory, but they have invested a good chunk of cash in a couple of big transformation scenes for the wolfman. What really impressed me, though, was the way it was shot and cut together. For the first time in ages watching a new British drama (particularly BBC), they have finally steered away from the ridiculous music-video manic-camera movements which blight so much UK output. Instead they trusted the really very strong performances of their lead cast and let the camera linger on them without wobble, shake or zoom. Well done that team.

Without doubt the last 7 days have been the busiest I’ve had in a very long time – pre- or post-transplant.

It’s been a whirlwind of trips here, there and everywhere that’s taken up the entire week without either K or I having time to properly draw breath.  We are both shattered.  I don’t know about her, but I feel shattered in a wonderful, sense-of-achievement kind of way.  K may just be shattered from trying to slow me down all week! (Not in a bad, I-don’t-want-you-to-have-fun kind of way, more a whoa-there-boy-you’re-new-lungs-are-only-three-months-old kind of way…)

I must apologise for the distinct quietness of the blog – I have attempted to redress the balance with a few days’ updates all at once this evening, because I feel terribly guilty for having neglected it all this week, although the truth is when I haven’t been either working or sleeping, I’ve been out and about this week.

Since Monday we’ve been to Stoke Mandeville, Oxford, Harrow, Olney, Deanshanger and Willen, not to mention the shopping trips, gym-visits, cups of tea and various odd-jobs which have taken us all over Milton Keynes.

Next week is looking like it might be mildly more sedate, although being half-term there is the chance to spend some time with my Godsons for the first time since my op, which I’m looking forward to more than just about anything I’ve had the chance to experience so far in the 13 weeks since I have my blowers swapped out for a shiny new pair.

I dearly hope the next week will bring a) more regular blog updates b) more pages completed on the new script (19 down, but none written over the weekend) and c) more firsts for the book of wonderment.

Today I saw my Gramps for the first time since my op – he’s up visiting the ‘rents for the weekend and K and I stopped over for the afternoon to catch up. It was brilliant to see him again – after quite a long while, too – and he was suitably impressed with my turnaround from the last time I saw him. I love to see the look in people’s eyes when they see me for the first time since the op; it’s a wondrous mixture of the most complex emotions, with happiness and relief dominating.

This afternoon was not a great one, sporting-wise, which makes it lucky the rest of the day was so happy and pleasant.

First up, I arrived at Mum and Dad’s in time to sit and watch the Saints drop miserably out of the FA Cup to the mighty Bristol Rovers… they of an entire footballing division below us. Not that the difference in league standing made an impact on the game, since the majority of the Saints team (ok, the entire Saints team) completely failed to turn up for the match anyway. Maybe they thought they were playing Bristol City instead.

Following that disappointment, we hastily beat a retreat from the sofa to the pretty little village of Olney, where we took my Gramps and his lady friend for a nice afternoon stroll around the little boutique shops and stopped at a perfectly quaint little tea shop for afternoon tea and teacakes and crumpets – incredibly refined even if I do say so myself.

We found a beautiful little gift shop there, too, a real little gem, with sparkling jewelery which attracted the magpie-like K and some lovely little tokens and miniature statues and the like.

We eventually wandered ourselves back to the car and back to the ‘rents just in time to sit and watch Man Utd demolish Arsenal. Felt very sorry for K – being an ardent Gunner – but was remarkable to watch. And Dad and I did enjoy making the most of it because, let’s face it, K gets enough comedy mileage out of our following Southampton, so it’s only right for us to take advantage while we can.

We then settled into a lovely evening’s roast dinner (I guess Mum got confused and thought it was Sunday…) and chatted about all sorts of weird and wonderful things as we tend to do when we get together as a family.

It’s been a lovely day seeing Gramps again, going out for a stroll around a small town with him – something I’ve not been able to enjoy for some time, like so much of what I do these days. The firsts are stacking up so fast I keep thinking that I must have run out by now, but then another will pop up and remind me how well I’m doing and how great this new life is.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m am rather pointedly against Valentine’s day. Tipping point this year undoubtedly came when I read an article in TIME Magazine talking about “the holiday” and all that comes with it.

Far be it from me to deprive the un-romantics of this world from their one day when they manage to muster up enough retail-fed creativity to find a gift that won’t make their girlfriend sigh with disaffection, but when we start to call Valentine’s day a “holiday” you know things have gone too far – and too commerical.

As if diluting the true meaning of Christmas and Easter down to a pair of jolly, junk-food inspired cartoon characters (or near enough) wasn’t bad enough, it is now apparent that we have to encourage our kids that February 14th means sending over-priced, over-valued, empty-sentiment cards and gifts to the people we love. I say people because I’m reliably informed that in some schools it’s now no longer possible to send a valentine to the one you kinda fancy, but instead it’s a requirement to send them to EVERYONE in your class. Gosh, if only the real world were that loved up we’d have no war, no poverty, no famine – we’d all be happy little cherubs floating around on clouds of marshmellows.

Personally, I don’t need anyone to tell me – Tesco, Asda, Clinton’s, Homebase – on which day of the year I love my girlfriend. I’m incredibly lucky to have the most wonderful other half (and she very much is my mirror image – only with her own lungs and not someone elses) who loves me to pieces and whom I love just as much. But we love each other this much every day of the year, not just when someone decides we should in order to sell more tat.

My plan for Valentine’s day had been to avoid it all together and not worry about it, but as it happens a friend of K’s had to pull out of going to the Theatre this evening to watch Matthew Bourne’s Nutcracker, which left a ticket going begging and a very doe-eyed K looking at me plaintively.

So – grudgingly – along I went, feeling very much like most men look when they go to the ballet: slightly bored, slightly put-upon and wishing they were sitting at home watching Bruce Willis blow something up at Christmas.

So it pains me terribly to say it, but I loved it. Having worked in theatre for most of the last 8 years, I’m only too well aware of Bourne’s reputation as a choreographer and theatre-maker (for his is quite definitely both), but all I’d seen of his work was his Edward Scissorhands of a couple of years ago, which I’m reliably informed is by far his weakest piece. I’d managed to let his Nutcracker, all-male Swan Lake and reportedly spectacular Play Without Words pass me by. And boy to I regret not taking them in when I had the chance now.

His Nutcracker was remarkable – vivid, colourful, soulful and emotive, a real feast of visual theatre that at times strayed about as far from ballet as it’s possible to go without bursting into song. As we arrived at the Theatre, an old colleague of mine commented that at times you forgot you were watching dance and that it wasn’t simply one of the best choreographed musicals you’d ever seen, and I now know precisely what she means.

Humble me it did, and also made me remember my old maxim from the olden days that it’s always worth giving a show a go, even if you think it’s going to be the worst thing you can possibly imagine plonking yourself in front of for two hours of a perfectly good evening.

I resolved to keep that at the fore-front of my mind from here on out and to embrace the new challenges that the Theatre may throw at me now I’m able to pop to Town and take in some of the Fringe theatre around London and more of the delights that visit MK. All judgements will now be reserved until at least the interval. If you haven’t caught my attention by then, mind, you might well see my seat empty during the second act…

Was back at Harefield today for my first clinic flying solo. Up to now I’ve been along with Mum or Dad and maybe K in tow, too, but now I’m more mobile and – more to the point – can drive myself comfortably for an hour or more (just), I can finally let Ma and Pa go about their usual daily business. In other words, they have to stop skiving off work to run me to the hossie.

What was even better about today (barring all the medical stuff, which I’ll come to in a bit) was that after our experiment with popping into Town last week, I took myself off on the train after the morning tests and got to have lunch with a really old school mate, who’s working for a record label near Archway. It was brilliant to see him and catch up – both of us feeling really happy about our lot in life at the moment, which not only makes a change (for me, anyway) but makes for a refreshingly up-beat and happy little luncheon.

Back at the big H, I saw the main man himself for the first time in a few weeks, which apparently worried him, because you only normally get passed to him if there’s something wrong.

As it happens, there’s not – he’s even given me such a clean(ish) bill of health I don’t have to go back for four weeks(!), barring unseen complications on my part. It’s amazing to think that just 3 months post-transplant, I’m already in a place where my docs are happy for me to stay away for such a prolonged period of time.

The down-side to it is that my lung-function doesn’t appear to be following the usually predicted improvement curve that he would be expecting to see at this stage. Whether this is left-overs from the Organising Pneumonia or signs of something potentially more sinister, he’s not sure.

The big issue with the O.P. is that it can take a long time to resolve (hence the 6 weeks of high-dose oral steroids I’m on at the moment), which means it’s pretty hard to detect if there’s anything else happening. The good news is that the biopsy from my bronch a couple of weeks ago is definitely negative for any signs of rejection and there is also very little or no sign of infection, which are the two main dangers right now.

More likely than not, the plateau in my lung function is a by-product of the O.P. and as that clears up over the next few weeks, my lung function should start to creep back up towards the predicted curve that they would hope and expect to see. Going to the gym and getting more exercise, putting weight on and generally getting stronger should all help that. Since it’s a bit of a waiting game to see how it progresses, that’s why they are happy for me to head off until the steroid course finishes and they can have a proper look to see if everything’s resolved.

For the time being, he’s kept me on some oral antibiotics and added in a second immunosuppressant to try to discourage rejection should there be any lurking or even thinking about having a bit of a lurk. It does make me mildly more susceptible to colds and infections and things, but not to such a degree that it should mess with too many of my plans. The main thing is I can still go to the movies…

All in all – beyond the slight concerns over the plateau – it’s been a good day hossie-wise. In terms of independence and self-confidence, it’s been even better. For the first time since my transplant, I really feel like I’m fending for myself and reaching a level of true independence and it feels amazing. I’ve not known this kind of freedom for a really long time and boy is it good to have it back.

I’ve had a much better day today than Thursday – both productive, relaxing and joyous in the space of 14 hours, it doesn’t get much  better than that, I don’t think.

Started out with a way-too-early start to give K a lift to work this morning, but when I got home decided it was too late in the morning to consider sliding back into bed (although I have to say it was mighty tempting), so instead I sat myself at my desk in the study and got stuck in to completing the background work for a documentary proposal I’ve been working on since my transplant.

It took me most of the morning, but I got it sent off to the appropriate people to see what they make of it by lunch time, which pleased me greatly – as it always does when I actually complete a task I set out to do.  I suppose that’s a pretty bad reflection on how often I complete the things I set out to do…

Anyway, after busying myself all morning, I decided to take the afternoon off – as is my wont – and relaxed playing Football Manager on the computer for a couple of hours before heading out to pick K up.

From there, we headed to my ‘rents to catch up with my cousin who was visiting with family in tow from Luxembourg, where she took up residence with her Luxembourgish husband several years ago.  I’ve not seen her or her family for two years, we worked out between us, when her eldest was younger, her middle was toddling and her youngest wasn’t even thought about.

It was fantastic to see them – and my other cousin and his new wife who made it up from the old family home in Southend – and catch up with them all.  K was especially happy to be able to enjoy the baby-cuddles she’s been looking forward to all week.  The little one is a wonderful bundle of cuteness, although she’s not as good at hide and seek as her brother and sister are.

In another moment of “oooh I can do that now I’ve got new lungs” I took my cousin and her four-year-old into town whilst we waited for dinner to cook to pick up some new shoes (which are apparently a bargain over here compared to Lux).  We had the best time wandering into town, looking at all the shoes, (“those are cool.  Those are really cool.  Those are REALLY cool.  Those are the coolest!”) although we were all disappointed that they didn’t have the ones with monkeys on in his size.

We all gorged heartily on one of mum’s roast dinners and the “adults” sat around chatting whilst K and I played hide-and-seek after dinner.  My ‘rents house has the best places to hide – it’s clearly been far too long since I’ve played a proper game of hide-and-seek, because I found some great nooks and crannys.  And I’m much better at hiding now I don’t have a tell-tale “ahem” to give me away every 5 seconds.

I’ve got such a wonderfully close-knit family that it’s always wonderful to spend any time with them, but when the gap has been as long as it was since I last saw the Lux Lot it makes it that bit more special.  And when they’d been told after I saw their mum and dad (my aunt and uncle) just before my op that they weren’t sure I was going to make it to Christmas, it adds that final finesse of wonderment to the whole day.

Now I’ve just got to wait until my first year post-Tx is up and I can finally go out and visit them instead of having to wait for them to get enough time off to make it over to us.

Hooray for pancake day!  I’m not actually massively addicted to pancakes myself, but K is a bit of a pancake demon and loves to cook them, too (which she happens to be great at).  Not only that, but it’s become a kind of tradition to cook pancakes for her bro’s family (including the little niece and nephew, plus big sis).

All of which means we got to have a grand old time playing, cooking and eating with the littl’uns and ever-so-helpful big sis (who actually took over a little of the cooking).  It also marks the first time since my op – in fact, the first time ever, we think – that I lifted the little ones up for hugs and cuddles.  Both of them were so happy and excited to see us and it was indescribable to finally be able to scoop them up and give them a proper cuddle, rather than having to find a way to crouch down amid oxygen tubing and other gubbins.

Earlier in the day, after a relaxing morning, K and I went out on what must amount to our first proper “date”, to catch a re-screening of The Golden Compass, which has hit cinemas again on limited showings because of it’s nominations for the BAFTAs and Oscars.  Sad to say, though, I loathed it with a passion.  Although I can see how the story is interesting, or at least could well be if told properly in the novels, as I’m reliably informed it is, the film falls way short of an acceptable adaptation.  Apart from anything else, it features some of the worst performances from child “actors” I’ve seen in a very long time – it’s like watching a very poor stage school performance which has paid too much attention to the glitz and glamour without taking the time to drag even vaguely realistic performances from the actors.

The adults do well with what they’ve got but the whole thing left me feeling slightly bored and uninterested, with no real sense of peril or suspense.  K’s told me she’s not sure, having read the books, she’ll be comfortable watching the next two movies, but having seen what I’ve seen today I’m not sure I’d be willing to give up my time to them anyway.

On a brighter note, the massive Xscape building which houses the cinema is also home to a number of out-doorsy-type shops, where we managed to hit the sales and walk away with a bargain pair of water/wind/weather-proof jackets to take away on the various travels we’re starting to plan up, the first of which being a week up in the Lake District for my birthday week in May.  I daresay they may also come in handy if and when we head to Durham at the start of March and Tresco in April.  Like the scouts, we are prepared.

The babies have definitely tired me out today and I’m ready to tuck myself up, but it’s amazing again to be able to reflect on the things I can do with myself now that wouldn’t even have registered on my radar six months ago.

Thanks for all your messages, it’s nice to know that’s it’s not just the two of us who are getting such a pick-me-up from my new start in life.

More and more firsts keep piling up this week.  It’s been a bit exhausting, but for the first time in a long time I feel exhausted and I can actually identify the myriad different things I’ve been doing over the last few days to induce the tiredness rather than sit here recalling the fact that I made an ill-advised trip to Tesco which has wiped out my week.

Last night, having got home from work – well, picking K up from work – we were exchanging texts with a friend of ours who lives in Luton who was feeling a little down in the dumps, largely due to being left in charge of the dog and having far too much time to himself to think, something which always bodes badly for those of us with slightly brooding dispositions (see previous entries in this blog for my own personal examples).

Naturally, we invited him up for a Friday night of fun and frolics in Bletchley, but since he had the dog to look after and work to be at in the morning, he couldn’t make it.  Without having to think about it twice, I immediately offered to drive us down there to take the party to him.  No sooner were we off the phone to him than we were in the car and heading South, an option which wouldn’t even have crossed our minds just a few short months ago.

We had a great night, picking up party food on the way, sitting chilling, chatting and catching up, setting the world to rights and coming up with the ultimate in Bat-plans for the coolest of dudes and then kicking back and taking in a flick to top the night off (the improbably brilliant and clever Fracture, which I’d highly recommend).

We didn’t leave Luton till after 11 and didn’t make it home till shortly before 12 – a late night even by current energy standards – but it felt fantastic to have been able to just up and go, to shoot off to be there for a friend in a way I haven’t been able to do for a number of years.

Back in the olden days, five or six years ago at the height of my time front of house at the Theatre, I used to do this kind of thing all the time.  Friends would call late at night (usually after a show had finished) and I’d whisk myself round to drink tea and talk things through till all hours of the night.  I’ve missed being able to do that for my friends, to be able to be there, wherever, whenever they needed me.  I feel like I’ve found another missing part of me and I’m welcoming it back into the whole with open arms and a wonderful excitement.

Just to add to the excitement and general, all-round super-happiness of the week and month and year so far, K got a letter this morning offering her an interview at City University in April, two days after the Tresco marathon.  It must be said that after her UCL experience and the rather blunt non-communication from Edinburgh (they informed her of her lack of success through UCAS, without evening deigning to write a letter themselves), K had pretty much given up on City.  To be offered an interview had us both grinning from ear to ear this morning and really topped off the week beautifully.

Of course we’re not counting our chickens or other similar jumping-our-guns-type metaphors, but there’s every chance we could be settling in London come September – me to a new start in my long-stalled career and K finally starting down the road she’s been aching to take since her teens.

Life has dealt us both some pretty raw cards over the last few years, but if ever there’s evidence of a deck-stacking Karma at work, 2008 so far has to be it.