Riding out the storm
23 Aug 2012
Last night, just as I was congratulating myself on having had a reasonably calm afternoon and beginning to hope for plain sailing through the night, my temperature spiked to almost 39 degrees (worryingly high I was told).
The nurses immediately manned the boat-stations. They told me they'd be giving me paracetamol which would bring on sweats and that soon I'd be awash in a pool of my own perspiration. It's always good to be forewarned although I didn't have the energy to change out of my still fairly clean-on PJ trews and T-shirt (when you catch me in a hospital gown you'll know I'm in trouble). Sure enough - like sailing into a tropical storm - I was soon heading deep into another of my frequent raging fevers.
After maybe an hour (I had little idea of time passing) all my pillows, sheets, and my clothes were thoroughly soaked. The nurses leapt to action. While I clung onto the life raft of my bedside chair, they re-rigged the bed: completely new, crisp sheets and pillows.
I returned to the helm but the stormy waters were still crashing about me. After another vortex of time, I was every bit as drenched as before. Undaunted the nurses rapidly changed all the bedclothes again.
Then as the waters subsided slightly, the coughing began. Great big retches from the depths if my lungs. Lots of greenish fluid running from this almost drowned man. Exhausted, I coughed, spluttered, spat, and retched like someone possessed (at least that's how it felt to me in my confused and weary fever).
Then, gratefully, I succumbed to sleep. I woke some time later, once again soaked right through but feeling like the shipwreck survivor thrown up on a safe shore.
This was the worst of these fevers I've had since they began about a month ago. Maybe, just maybe, that means a turning point as the antibiotics do their work. My temperature was back to normal. After breakfast I felt so much better that, later in the morning, the lovely physio agreed to take me for a walk beyond the ward, so long as I was attached to an oxygen cylinder. I even got outside into the garden. Now I'm planning an ambitious trip to the gym and - joy of joys for a cyclist - the static bike.
I'm so well looked after here. In my last hospital I just got through these fevers like a lone sailor, spreading towels beneath me to try to save the pillows and sheets, and only getting new bedclothes at the usual time each day. I have to pinch myself and keep reminding myself that the Royal Marsden is not a private hospital.
PS once again thank you for the lovely messages. I read every one and just wish I had the energy to write back to you individually. Apologies for some sloppiness in the editing. The device I'm using doesn't always do what I want it to, particularly when I try to jump back and forth in the text. Or it could just be user error and hospital brain.
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Rebecca Hanson - 23 Aug 2012
Awesome
Mike how come that even when you're this ill you can still write with a degree of fluency and clarity I can only dream of?
Thanks for setting such an inspiring standard.
Marc Rowland - 23 Aug 2012
Writing
Mike
You are an amazing person - that is a stunning piece of writing in ANY circumstances.
Thinking of you.
Marc
Aled - 23 Aug 2012
I am also impressed by your sailing and literary skills. Do keep it up. We are all thinking of you
Stephen Heppell - 23 Aug 2012
storms at sea
Mike - having been through a good few fearsome storms at sea, the good news is that as you come out of them the world feels a wonderful place. Every little beam of light and ripple seem more intense and more pleasurable. Sailors always love sunrise for the same reason - you are though another night. My scariest storm had fearful lightning - and as we did as kids, we counted after the flash and before the crash: 9, that's ok then; next flash - 6, the next 3. hang on, we could detect a disconcerting pattern here, we were next! And as if on cue the next flash missed us by just a few meters - we could smell the burn. But it missed us. Against the odds (we had a huge carbon mast!) things worked out - you don't need me to spell out the analogy here. Chin up matey, we're all sailing this one with you every mile of the way.
mark fairhead - 23 Aug 2012
radio is not the same
I was listening to the furore surrounding the GCSE results on R5 live today & thinking how I used to enjoy your reports. Erudite & articulate I always came away knowing more than when I started. Best wishes in your battle, may the sweats all be little ones.
Mark
Liz Lightfoot - 23 Aug 2012
Normality
When I first heard you were so ill I felt faint at the thought of it, you were always so healthy and fit (in both senses of the word). I had to go and lie down for a bit. Now I wait for your latest post to know how you are and how you are coping. I pray that some normality comes your way soon and am so very glad that you are being so well cared for at the Royal Marsden. I seem to remember you once had a much less positive experience at Kingston Hospital. Many, many of your former colleagues send their thoughts and very best wishes. Liz
Alastair Thomson - 23 Aug 2012
23 August posting
I've read and valued your words on education for years but these personal postings are no less powerful. I'm sure many besides me are rooting for you to overcome or stay this disease. "Do not go gentle" into anything for a few years yet eh?
Kevin Bakhurst - 23 Aug 2012
My very best wishes to you Mike. Your blog
is inspiring to us all as always. Kevin B.
Geoff Barton - 23 Aug 2012
Riding out the storm
You continue to amaze - in your toughness, humanity and enviable prose style. Keep 'em coming, Mr B.
Geoff
penny - 23 Aug 2012
Marseille!
As we said each morning we set off on the ride 'En route, Marseille'... as far as we had to go. Well done Mike for getting up perhaps one of the steepest hills for some time... Carl and I are thinking of you lots and so pleased you are in the Marsden, where people care and work in partnership with you... you're not patronised or neglected.. respect and dignity...oh such important words when you are in someone else's care. With love Penny
Hilary - 23 Aug 2012
Go NHS
My best wishes and good vibes are with you. I love my hospital because of the care and concern they have shown me during my cancer treatment, and it sounds like the Marsden are doing you proud. I hope you have a good sleep soon.
Branwen - 23 Aug 2012
Latest hospital stay
So pleased to read how good the care is - your humane good humour and stoicism are humbling.
Kate Robinson - 23 Aug 2012
23 Aug 2012
Well written as always. Hope you sleep more calmly tonight.
Thinking of you. Kate x
Paul Topping - 23 Aug 2012
Inspirational stuff, Mike. As a keen cyclist myself, I appreciated the biking content.
roslet - 23 Aug 2012
Ooh eck!
Mike, had not read your blog for a little while, so was a bit miffed to see you are back in hospital... especially miffed because I had spent the last few weeks visiting my sister and her husband in the local stroke unit (obviously a BOGOFF as they both had one within a fortnight of each other). You are so right about the amazing NHS care, our local unit is marvellous.
Hope that you are looking beyond the static cycle... although do not recommend the Hadleigh Farm Cycle track quite yet, but would pay good money to see you, Chris Hoy and Jason Kenney doing team pursuit at the Velodrome... I reckon if they wore their medals the weight would slow them down so you could keep pace :)
Emily Selvadurai - 23 Aug 2012
Lots of love Mike and am thinking of you and hope the fever subsides and you feel better. Am so glad and cheered you are being looked after wonderfully at the Marsden. You will be on that bike soon. Love and hugs ...Emilyxx
Emily Selvadurai - 23 Aug 2012
Lots of love Mike and am thinking of you and hope the fever subsides and you feel better. Am so glad and cheered you are being looked after wonderfully at the Marsden. You will be on that bike soon. Love and hugs ...Emilyxx
Charles Woodroffe - 24 Aug 2012
Love
Glad to hear that you are being well looked after in the Marsden Hospital. It was such a privilege to meet you all those years ago at 61. Despite being at the other end of the World now, you still have a wonderful influence for good. You and Chrissy should be feeling the deep waves of love coming from all your friends, even if we cannot be with you.
sylvie - 24 Aug 2012
thinking of you
Dear Mike
I am so happy you feel well cared for. It is only a pity that you did not have the same feeling previously and that at some level this quality of care is associated with private medicine. I work with the NHS (and also with some private hospitals) and I hope that I deliver the same standard of care in any setting. Unfortunately, I have already heard what you say.
I hope that the fevers will not come back. You are amazing.
All my love to you and your family
tim miles - 24 Aug 2012
Sorry to hear you're back in hospital, Mike, but glad to see you're treating this setback with the contempt it deserves. Someone in my family is currently recovering from breast cancer and it remains continually heartening to read your astonishing blog. It shows what is possible. Keep hold of the life raft!
Katrina W - 24 Aug 2012
cool sheets
one of my earliest memories is of my mum getting me up from a hot damp sickbed, getting me in a bath and back to cold,smooth,stiff sheets that were heaven. it still stirs me to think of it. Hope you always have a cool, smooth bed when you need it, Mike! all the best.
andy bryan - 24 Aug 2012
soggy bed
Mike, you're amazing in your ability to make a horrid situation sound like a novel. There's nothing worse than wet sheets.Hopefully after all that Jackson Pollock style coughing you'll be cycling back to Kingston. What a star. I hope that Chris reads your comments-I've been very remiss in not sending her cards-sorry. Andyx
Christine Herbert - 24 Aug 2012
fever
that was a great hyperthermia treatment, and shows your immune system is strong and in there fighting for you. Home soon I hope. Christine
Kelly Dickson - 24 Aug 2012
the sweats
Mike, your description of what you have just been through reminded me of the time I was stung by jellyfish in Australia, out in the middle of Great Barrier Reef. I soaked the sheets but there were no nice nurses taking care of me. It was a hellish night. I am so glad to hear you are feeling better and here's wishing you cool, clean sheets forever!
Bob Chaundy - 24 Aug 2012
Ship Ahoy
A wonderful piece of descriptive prose, Mike. Wish I could say it was the menopause!
Richard Gould - 24 Aug 2012
Two great advertisements
This blog is a great advert for the care and efficiency at The Royal Marsden. But this dwindles into insignificance when compared to the wonderful advert for you, Mike - for your resilience, optimism, writing skills, and basic mega-niceness.
Allison Allen - 24 Aug 2012
fever
Hoping you've fried the bugs Mike! So pleased you're feeling better - the Marsden folk are amazing, but so are you. You aplologise for sloppiness - I wish I could reach such heights. I love your optimism in the face of such adversity.
magali - 24 Aug 2012
Blimey, you're really going through it, aren't you? Sounds hopeful you are through the worst though. You will definitely deserve that lovely normality when it comes - hopefully quite soon.
We're thinking about you loads.
Magali, Steve, Louis and Ava xx
Graham Game - 24 Aug 2012
fever
Your'e an inspiration Mike & it's such a comfort to know that you are in good, safe hands.
As the Druids say " May you be loved, May you be blessed, May you be healed".
Lots of love to you & your wonderful girls.
Tony Halpin - 26 Aug 2012
Just want to pass on my best wishes for your safe emergence from the storm. Keep swimming - your awesome spirit will get you to shore.
Tony