The Northern Train, Service to Leeds, Has Been Delayed, By Approximately 4 Months


Hey all you cool cats and kittens, today is your lucky day. This week you’re going to get 2 blogs in 1, but we’ll start with yesterday’s consultation with my doctor, although with the new Covid-19 restrictions I was demoted to a telephone conversation to discuss a couple of points; my recent MRIs and the brain operation dates.  Usually, with all my appointments so far, I’ve had quite a bit of anxiety leading up to them, the usual; ‘shit, what happens if it’s bad news and he gives me 10 minutes to live’ kind of anxiety. However, as I’m sure many of you know by now, Sarah and I have recently had our second child, Joshua, so my scanxiety has been taken over by a poop creating, booby draining, sleep depriving, cute machine.

Anyway, we had the call and for the most part, it was all very positive.  Timmy hasn’t shown signs of growth and although I’m not popping out the Dom Perignon just yet, it’s a great fucking start.  Also, given the way the tumour looks, he sounded much more positive that it looked like a grade 2 tumour. Still keeping the champagne in the ice bucket, but again, get the fuck in. As we mentioned in previous blogs, there are lots of different types of tumours, but if we’re looking at a slow growing little prick then even I might be able to put up a fight. 

Now, before I get ahead of myself and start wielding off like Alan Shearer, there was a very slight snag in the positive call.  My surgery is to be delayed. Originally, I should have been going under the knife in about 10-15 days but given Covid-fucking-19 and the backlog the NHS is now under because Greg from Goole can’t stay in arsing home for a month I’m now looking more like September/October time.  In the meantime, I’ll be in for another MRI to check growth and make sure I keep myself alive and sane.

I know what you’re thinking, Alex, you’ve just had some great news, surely you can muster up one ounce of patience and wait a few months to have your skull excavated, but, imagine your only (lie) anxiety is being prolonged and the news does have a slight air of shittyness about it – However, what it does mean is that I’m no longer thinking of a ‘do before I die’ bucket list but more of a ‘do after lockdown’ bucket list.

After soaking in the good news we had the opportunity to ask some questions of our own – I won’t bore you with the details of all the Q&A session, but I did ask about exercise as I haven’t lifted my chubby little arse off the sofa since 2 days pre-seizure.  Partly because I’m nervous I’ll collapse halfway through a 5k and die alone in a council estate and secondly because I like eating magnums more than running.  However, Doc said that running and exercising wouldn’t impact the tumour but if I do overexert myself, I run the risk of having a seizure.  So, be prepared for new celebratory running selfies after finishing a 2000 metre jog in 3 hours.

Witness the Fitness

I’m not sure about you but when I think of people with a chronic illness I think of extreme weight loss and looking like Christian Bale in The Machinist, but no, I’ve inflated and I’m looking more like John Candy than Christian Bale.  However, I can’t really blame too much on Timmy as my diet currently consists of 2 magnums, 1 milky bar, 16kg of homemade biscuits sent from Grandma and a Kebab, I’m pretty sure I’m about 1 millionaire shortbread away from getting a letter of concern from the people at myFitness. To put this into perspective, I’m currently tucking into a bowl of salted caramel ice cream (shame photo attached)

Another point on expectations versus reality of dealing with an illness, I expected to look ill and given some of the comments I get I think others expected that too. On several occasions I’ve had, oh, you look fine. I’m not sure what I or others were expecting but other than putting on 30kg I look fine and healthy.

So, today, after hearing I could exercise from my consultant I decided to go on a quick jog and try de-John-Candyise.  Don’t worry though, I kept to the middle class areas so I wouldn’t collapse while looking at a St George’s flag lying next to a can of Special Brew.

Now, as I’ve mentioned previously; my runs or walks have usually ended after about 5 minutes with a very red face panting like a highland cow. Today, was different, today was my day, today was urmmmmmm disappointing.  If you’ve ever watched Peep Show, when Mark goes jogging with Big Suze, it was exactly like that – give it a watch

To be fair, it wasn’t that bad, I finished 3.5km in under 20 mins. It’s no Mo Farah but it’s a start and because of Covid-19 the streets were empty and nobody got to witness my newly developed man boobs bouncing along the A65.

I guess I’m not going to have a great deal to talk about for another 6 months unless people want my qualitative research notes on male baby excrement. So, I’ll be checking in less frequently and with fingers crossed my MRIs will remain stable, the pandemic will pass and I’ll be taking the champers will finally be popped.

Published by Alex Dawson

Who? I’m Alex, a 31 year old from Leeds, Yorkshire. I have a wife, Sarah. A daughter, Sophie, who's 2 and a baby boy on the way. I'd say I'm slightly above average across the board, emphasis on slightly, cue my friends making phallic based jokes. I own a recruitment business and I'm relatively fit and healthy. I’m from a privileged background and have been lucky enough to grow up in a nice house with excellent parents and had a good education. I’ve been given lots of handouts throughout my life but wouldn’t class myself as entitled as I’ve worked hard in my career and pushed myself. Why? The reason I'm writing this blog, and sorry if you're learning this for the first time via a blog (but you should have kept in touch more to be honest) I have a big filthy, dirty brain tumour who I have nicknamed, Timmy.  I was given a book, Pear Shaped by my best friend and recent best man, Sav, that gave me the idea of jotting down my thoughts and giving people a better insight to my state of mind and also giving me an outlet while not working rather than just galloping around on a virtual horse on a PS4 game. What? I’m going to be writing about all aspects of my own experiences of having a tumour from diagnosis to what I hope is full recovery, warts and all.  Now, think of this like a disclaimer. I'm from Yorkshire so it'll be to the point, I'll be honest about my feelings about what happens and finally I'll probably throw a few dark jokes about pretty serious shit, so if you're easily offended I'd look elsewhere for your morning read on your commute to work. When? I was diagnosed with a brain tumour on the 29th January 2020 but if you haven't been bored senseless and want to read on I'm going to get more into Timmy in future posts. However, to reiterate it will not be all cutesy and they're will be fucks, shits, and wanks (verbal, not graphic details on my sex life and bowel movements).

One thought on “The Northern Train, Service to Leeds, Has Been Delayed, By Approximately 4 Months

  1. Firstly Congratulations on the birth of your son Joshua. Its rubbish that your OP has been put back but fantastic news that your tumour hasn’t grown any. We think about you often and wish you all the best in the world Love your blogs you’re an inspiration to us all. Stay safe and enjoy your exercising lol. Love to you and your family. Paul and Caroline


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