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chrisrunsthemarathon · 8 years

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How I (hopefully) ran the Marathon. Part iii

Right, the third instalment…

I know The Empire Strikes back gets widely lauded as the best, but Return of the Jedi has always been my favourite so let’s hope this is the same.

Well, f#*k me, what a nightmare. I’ve never been a big believer in fate, or luck (you make your own right) and I’ve never been superstitious but I’m beginning to think this whole thing is jinxed…

The whole superstition/fate thing is a load of bollocks in my book, how can three lines that Mystic Meg writes in the paper fit for a 12th of the population or to put it into numbers, about 5 million people within the UK. Although I have to admit it is ironic that my Gran was a Cancer given the way she died, she was mauled to death by a giant crab. As I’ve said above though, I can’t help but think this whole thing is doomed to fail.

So, an update on how the running has been going since the last entry…… I haven’t done any. Nadda. None. Nil. Nope. Not a single run at all. Not the ideal preparation and not quite the stage that I wanted to be at. I guess I should explain why.

I finished work for Christmas and was looking forward to some family time, not to harp on about it but it’s not been the easiest few months as anyone who’s read the other entries will know and we thought, “yep, that’ll be good, let’s do some fun stuff”. I managed the Panto on the Friday afternoon which was ace but started to feel a bit rough on Christmas Eve so went off to bed with a couple of Paracetamol thinking I’d be fine when I woke up in the morning. What actually happened was that I woke at 3am so cold my teeth were chattering but I was dripping with sweat at the same time, a full on fever. All of Christmas Day I felt awful, like proper awful. I managed to get downstairs for the kids to open their presents but it was game over after that. I did make it to my sister’s house where I slept on the sofa for an hour and a half before heading home to bed, 24 Pigs in Blankets especially bought in for me untouched. I believe they’re still there..

I laid in bed for the next three days pretty much unable to move just assuming I had flu. Blokes are supposed to get it really bad right? So I figured this must be what they talk about when they say ‘man flu’. I’m really not one to cry wolf with illness or make a fuss so I just sucked it up. Tash moved my lamp into the spare room for me and I lay there for a few days. After a consultation with a student with a ring binder on the 111 service on the fourth day who told me they thought I was fine and just to rest I gave up and went to the doctor. The doc spent two minutes having a look and sent me to the hospital having diagnosed Pneumonia saying I needed IV antibiotics and fluids. This contrasted quite significantly with the diagnosis from my dad when he was driving me to the aforementioned appointment who told me I needed to “get up and about” and “show some mental resolve”. Then as I stumbled/limped/fell into the waiting room, literally feeling on the verge of death he commented “see, you look better already for the fresh air” You can take the man out of Yorkshire….

So without going into too many details, I spent 5 days in the hospital on various drips for fluids and antibiotics and oxygen masks etc trying to recover from the Pneumonia. I don’t know if anyone reading this has had it but I can see how it finishes off the elderly as its bloody horrible and I felt awful. Truly awful. I got sent home on New Years Day (oh yes, my New Years Eve was a belter, particularly when the dickhead in the next bed started making calls to people very audibly at 1am to say hello and the bloke opposite decided to pull out his own catheter and then started screaming “my willy’s bleeding”. He was a lovely old bloke opposite though, very caring, he even got up and tried to help the bloke next to him have a drink. Of course the poor bloke next to couldn’t sit up and would have drowned if the nurses hadn’t stopped him but it was a lovely gesture. You could write a great sitcom about life in an NHS hospital. In fact I should have done to stave off the boredom. Loads of the patients I saw are such ar*eholes. The bloke next to me on my first visit was shouting “lady, lady” all the time at the nurses and all he wanted was for them to plug in his mobile phone. Who needs to plug in a phone at 3am?! Then of course the nurses get distracted as they have 700 things to do and people calling them and go off. After the second time he stopped me getting pain relief by distracting the nurse to get his phone plugged in I had to politely point out that if he interrupted for something so menial again he’d never have to worry about charging his phone again after I’d shoved it where…… I know I know, I’m punchy but it’s been a tough 5 weeks….

To put it into context for those who think I’ve been soft, you get an infection marker in your blood (CRP it’s called, look at me, I’ve got all the medical terms now) and it should be between 0-5 usually. When I was admitted to hospital mine was 450 something. After 6 days at home where I felt a bit better, but not good I went back to the doctor who said I should be better by now given the drugs and time and so he did another blood test and my CRP was still 170 odd so he sent me back to the hospital where I spent another 4 days. Fortunately not on the acute medical ward this time (well, I was for the first 24 hours and then I got moved) so to be honest the second stint on an different ward felt like I’d been moved to The Hilton. I had a chair, a bedside table and a window…! It turns out the fluid on my lung from the pneumonia hadn’t drained away and had become infected and caused my lung to partially collapse. Oh yes, I’ve been having all the fun….

I was told I’d need either a chest drain to get rid of the fluid or be moved to Southampton hospital for surgery, fortunately for me I only needed the former and after that, coming home and another couple of weeks R&R I’m starting to feel human again………..but I haven’t been for a run yet.

You also start filling the days with meaningless and pointless things in hospital as well. Like going to the toilet far more frequently than you need to because you get to walk there and it’s something to do. Then you spend a good 5 minutes determining if your stools are a type 3 or 4 according to the chart on the back of the door and should you be worried or not (surely they should just stick a newspaper in there). It really is/was that bad. Not to be cliché either but the food really is almost inedible. I know they cater for large numbers, and on a budget, but still, how people ever get better eating that is a mystery. Its worth publicly commenting Berni Hampton that the Spaghetti Bolognese you made me on my second stint in hospital saved my life. It was easily the best Spag Bol I’ve ever had and sitting there chatting to Grant while I polished it off was the best I’d been in 3 weeks, a real turning point.

Tash should get a shout out here as well. I’ve cited in previous entries about her ability to cope and get on with it but bugger me she really is awesome. As well as everything she has going on, and spending Christmas solo with the kids (family obviously but in terms of looking after the little one’s) she managed to do a month’s worth of early wake ups, breakfast shift, get them dressed, bath time routines, bedtime routines all on her own and still cope with work, general life and fit in coming to see me every day, bring me Smarties, deal with my moods about the whole thing and cheer me up/tell me to man up where appropriate. I’ve promised I’ll make it up to her. I won’t put my trainers on until I get out of the house now.

So far this has all been pretty depressing hasn’t it, it’s like an entry in Adrian Mole’s diary “today I measured my pecker, still fuc*ing small”…

So the marathon………and running and where I’m up to with that. Well,…… I’m still convinced I can do it. Various members of my family, friends and most importantly my wife have told me that there’s no chance and I’m an idiot for even considering it. I’ve spoken to Rebecca at Anthony Nolan and they’ve been brilliant and told me I can defer and do it next year for them if I want to and just continue my current fundraising but with no pressure to do two lots (ie. For two years entries). I guess I won’t be the first person to ever pull out should I have to. I should note at this stage that I definitely will do it, even if I have to defer and do it in 2018. People have been amazing with their kindness and generosity for the charity and that’s not been missed and this isn’t a ‘get out of jail card’ for me, I will do it and I will make sure I put myself through it for those donations. Every penny is vital and I want to make sure I’ve earned it. Especially when you look at some of the incredible donations like that anonymous one for £1,000. Ha ha, anonymous, yeah right, we ALL know who that was (love you mate, can’t wait to get back in our favourite restaurant). That one also specified I had to do it in 3 and a half hours or pay it back and that target time might be beyond me this year now I’m 6 weeks behind schedule and my lungs are still like that scene in the The Matrix when Neo is reborn and comes out gasping for air.

So I’ve decided I’m going to let the professionals make the decision. I have a follow up with a respiratory consultant on Monday and they’re going to X-ray my lungs and see how I’m doing. I’ll ask them outright if I can run and if they say no, it’ll be put back to 2018. Definitely not the outcome I want, possibly for the best but I’ll be desperately disappointed if that’s what they say. Having been so ill however, I don’t want to go through that again and if they tell me my body can’t cope in three months time then I won’t risk it. Hopefully they’ll tell me I’m good to go and I can pick up the training. Otherwise I’ve got a hotel room going spare on the 22nd. There’s no point using it on Marathon Day otherwise, it’s packed and you can’t get anywhere…

In a bit of good news, all of those emails and looking for contact details finally paid off. The bloody nice people at the Manchester United Foundation sent me a signed football that turned up in the post the other day. All I have to do is send them details of what I do with it/how much I raise and they’ll forward me on a certificate of authenticity with it as well. What a nice bunch and a terrific gesture from the League Cup Runners Up 2017. Looking at it, I think if I auction it I’ll raise less than if I raffle if as I’m reliant on one person paying lots at an auction so I’m going to advertise it as far and wide as I can at £1 a raffle ticket. I’m film it all and make it all visible so if you’re interested in a ticket, two or more let me know and I’ll work out the best way to collect the money etc. It goes without saying that 100% of the money taken will go to the charity. There’s no fees, costs anywhere, they gave me the ball for nothing so it’s all going to Anthony Nolan.

Running wise I’m going to give it a go at the weekend with a slow/short run just to test the water. I gave 9 holes a whirl this week and that felt OK (other than the fact my putting was dreadful but that’s to be expected after 5 weeks). I had a little bit of pain in my back where the drain was the next day but it’s cleared up pretty quickly. I guess we’ll just have to see if I make it back from my run on Saturday morning. Hopefully I’ll feel fine, trample mud all through the house and we’ll be back to normal.

And that’s where I’m up to. I’m sorry it wasn’t very funny, or cheery, or positive but it’s reflective of the past 5 weeks for me. I’ll keep you posted with a short entry early next week on the verdict (if anyone is even reading this..) In the meantime, if you want to sympathy sponsor me the link is still in the first entry on this blog page. I try to keep a positive outlook if I can and I always like to look for a silver lining, I lost loads of weight over Christmas (almost two stone in that first week of illness), I didn’t spend any money and if you notice, I haven’t moaned once about the pain in my legs………

Love,

Chris x

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