Crazy Socks and a Playlist

There are a few of you who know what has been happening to us over the last six months but for those of you who aren’t in the know…

Back in December 23 I became a member of the male only ‘one in eight’ club when I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. That news was about as welcome as being a grouse on the Yorkshire moors on 12th August and being told by your mates ‘We’ve decided your first to break cover this season’. When I was presented with this diagnosis I was also given the prognosis. What I have is manageable, treatable and curable. Towards the end of June 24 I only have a few weeks until I know about the ‘curable’ bit.

The ‘treatment’ began on the day I was diagnosed when I was prescribed some medicines which I will be taking for the foreseeable future. In May 24 an additional layer of treatment began when I embarked on a course of twenty radiotherapy sessions at our local hospital.

Understandably those sessions dominated our lives. The time being zapped by the machine only lasted ten minutes at the most. What took the time was the travelling to and from the hospital and the need to be there at least an hour to be fully prepared for the zapping.

On the day of my first treatment, I wore some socks which to a lot of people would be considered loud or garish but which I considered ‘normal’. I even used to wear them when I was still working. There was a meeting in a room with a glass topped table and one of the directors kept staring at my socks. After the meeting I was asked to stay in the room. After everyone had left I was further asked to wear more conservative socks in the future.

While I was waiting to be treated I sat next to a gentleman who because of his throat cancer could only speak in the softest of whispers. We exchanged names and details about our respective trips into hospital. Then he leaned closer to me.

‘I absolutely love your socks. I’ve never seen any like those. They have really cheered me up.’

‘Well’ I thought ‘If a pair of bright socks can cheer someone up I may as well wear some like them every day for the rest of my treatments.’

And I did.

Even the radiographers liked them.

‘If everyone in the world wore socks like these every day they may not stop cancer but they would help make the world a better place’. (Alan Russell)

After a few treatments, the novelty had worn off and quite frankly, the whole process became just a little boring. The only exciting thing about being there was talking to other patients. Most of the men were being treated for prostate cancer. Then there was a good mix of people with throat cancers, a few with brain tumours and some with the double whammy of having more than one cancer.

During the latter half of my treatment sessions the radiographers asked what sort of music I would like played. Up until then there had been pop music played into the room where patients were zapped. I wrote a list there and then for them to work through.

The next morning I was on the table getting aligned for my zapping.

‘Nice socks Alan…we found your music and we’ll see you in a few minutes’ one of the radiographers said as they left the room.

The lights were dimmed and I could hear the five or six opening chords of ‘Second hand news’.

‘Is that loud enough?’ I was asked.

I gave the thumbs up and the machine whirred into action.

There is something folksy and country with the Fleetwood Mac music and soon I wasn’t in a radiology room but enjoying a walk in the warm sunshine in meadows laced with wildflowers. The treatment seemed a lot shorter.

‘Music has a healing power. It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours.’ (Elton John)

The next day when I was on the table getting ready the radiographers said they left the Fleetwood Mac disc running for the rest of the day after I left. When they left the room and the lights dimmed I could hear ‘Take Five’ played by the Dave Brubeck Quartet. And so on for the rest of my remaining treatments.

Bearing in mind that everyone who finishes their course of treatments rings a bell in the reception area I could have requested ‘Ring My Bell’ by Anita Ward. I didn’t. Instead, I asked for the extended version of the theme from ‘The Great Escape’.