Raccoongate? No way, José!
Hello my darlings! It’s been an eventful week. Action packed as they say, and Ms Raccoon has a fight on her hands; fear not, we will win.
So, pour yourself a drink, make it a double; I have lots to tell you, and I’m only going to say it once, then we shan’t mention it again. OK? Got that?
We have a very young replacement Doctor here in the village, doesn’t look old enough to be out of high school, never mind medical college, but our fantastic Doctor was sick himself, with cancer, and young Sebastian was the first available to stand in for him. We all looked askance at him, and determined that we wouldn’t get sick until old Dr L was back in post again. Which he will be, next month.
Hence I hadn’t been to the Doctor for some months; I had a repeat prescription for six months and it was only when it was due to run out that last Thursday I reluctantly went for the routine blood test I needed to renew it.
A few hours later, young Sebastian rang me – half past eight at night! Was I in pain? Did I need him to come and see me? Had the arthritis flared up again? No, it hadn’t, I wasn’t, I was in perfect health, and had just settled down to watch a good film! Was I sure? Yep, positive I said – thinking he had taken leave of his senses. The next morning the surgery rang again, would I re-take the blood test, there had been a misunderstanding…
I did so, and a few hours later, there was young Sebastian once more – I had to come and see him, he absolutely insisted; grumbling and complaining, I did. He prodded and poked, pulled at joints, with me complaining every inch of the way that there was nothing wrong whatsoever, and finally jabbed me so hard that he got an ‘ouch’.
‘Ha!’ he said. ‘Thought so’. ‘You have a cyst.’ That was last Friday night.
Nervous young Doctors standing in for a legend like Dr L do sit in their office late at night puzzling over curious blood results – thank God they do. By Saturday morning he had me in the hospital, since when I have been scanned, tested, punctured from head to foot and God knows where else – but the end result is that I do have ovarian cancer – without a single symptom known to me. I have a bloody great tumour the size of a football, and it has to go. Totally surplus to requirements.
Today, just seven days later, I have just returned from the world class Bergonnie Cancer Institute in Bordeaux. Apparently removing this parasitical useless object is expected to take five hours and they need to re-jig their operating lists to do so in the next week or so, and then it is chemotherapy for me.
I’ve hesitated over telling you all, and absolutely the last thing I want to do is turn this blog into a ‘all the gory details of how I beat cancer’ – after this conversation I never want to hear mention of the damn thing again.
I love the atmosphere of this blog, I love the way you send me rushing off to Google to even begin to understand what you are talking about sometimes, I love the way you make me laugh; and I know that I am going to need that atmosphere to be there when I do drop in more than ever in the coming weeks. This blog isn’t just for your benefit, you know, it’s my local too.
Some days I will just be watching and listening, some days I will want to write, I really don’t know. I haven’t a clue what I shall write about, whatever is on my mind I guess. If I seem more crabby than usual, you know why. If I shoot first and don’t bother taking a prisoner, you know why. If I seem to be in a remarkably un-Christian frame of mind at times, then don’t bother telling me ‘I thought you were supposed to be a good Quaker’ – I know that, and I might just kick you since I don’t have a cat. I’ve already written to my brother and told him what a totally spineless useless hypocritical twat he is – God knows why I never summoned up the courage before, I’ve thought it for years.
On the other hand, you’ve all been good friends, and great company, and I want to see you here – even if you do nick all the pork scratchings. If any of you feel moved to amuse or entertain, please do; Sad and Matt both have full time real lives and can’t always write to order – e-mail them, it’s on the contact page.
Now Ms Smudd is booked to come over here for a week on the 18th august, which is only six weeks away, so I’ve got a lot to do in that time. We’ve both been looking forward to it for some months, and we, I, intend to have a ball. So I have a dead-line. Fighting fit by August 18th. I’ve never lost a fight yet, and I’ve been picking them all my life.
Now don’t insult a Raccoon by offering maudlin sympathy – jokes, positive variety, or you get a bullet through the head….end of conversation.
What you get over the next few weeks by way of posts, is, well, what you get. Pour your own drinks too. This pub’s in survival mode.
July 23,
2011 at 12:02
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Just popped in after a while and, stap me. I never did like bloody
foopcall. Large one behind the bar for you after the match.
- July 2, 2011 at 09:05
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just got access to the blog for the first time in weeks – and this is what
I find ! Sheesh !
- June 30, 2011 at 16:21
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Kick that football thingy into touch, Anna.
I can’t help but think that if you had been back in UK and seen by NHS
doctors, you’d still be none the wiser as to your condition. Fair play to the
French medical profession – start with worse case scenarios and work
backwards. That’s how healthcare should be.
Do get well soon Anna.
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June 29, 2011 at 12:59
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God bless, Anna
- June 28, 2011 at 18:16
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Well, that means we will have to bring our house warming over to you! I’ll
contact you soon, pip pip!
- June 28, 2011 at 15:00
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That’s the spirit. chin up and keep fighting. We love the blog, AR.
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June 28, 2011 at 14:43
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I think it’s damned unreasonable of Anna *not* to allow us to feel, at
least, a little glum at this dreadful news.
But, she won’t and she cracks the whip, *OUCH!*
Reading Anna’s blog has, at times, wrought fearful havoc with my blood
pressure and probably lopped 20 years from life. But I wouldn’t trade a single
year back for missing anything I’ve read …
Fight hard, Anna. You really are appreciated.
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June 28, 2011 at 13:09
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All the best Anna, I will keep an eye on the ales while you are away.
They’ll still be there when you get back. More or less.
- June 28, 2011 at 00:47
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My very best wishes for a speedy recovery.
- June 27,
2011 at 22:11
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Sorry to hear about the football. Damned annoying, what? Still can’t let
something pesky like that keep a good raccoon down – especially one who has a
date with Miss Smudd.
Nil Desperadum and all that rubbish.
- June 27, 2011 at 21:37
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I’ll just add my best wishes to those that have gone before, and will
surely still come.
- June 27, 2011 at 20:59
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Thank goodness you had enough sense to get sick in a country with a
half-decent health system.
My best wishes to you and yours, and my deepest hatred to whatever you
called the football.
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June 27, 2011 at 14:51
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For the second time I have got as far in my blogging life of creating a
blogger account. I have for the second time decided I still have a lot to
learn about writing content and style before I (potentially!) inflict myself
upon any poor sod with internet access! So in a purely selfish request, take
that football, kick it into touch and get back behind the bar, we’re missing
you already!
All the best Anna, Jack x
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June 27, 2011 at 16:40
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Feel free to inflict us with your content. We will be happy to help
massage your content into good (ish) style and publish it. See the
About/Contact link at the top of this page for email addresses.
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June 28, 2011 at 09:39
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Thanks SBML!
Also thanks to you chaps for your efforts on here. I think you do Anna
and her ‘Rac-pack’ of fans proud!
ATB Jack
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June 27, 2011 at 10:00
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Making a certain Tarragon Chicken Roast tonight, described by a Welsh
character in the Seventies series Children of the Stones. (There’s a blast
from the past, hey!) Since the missus has Welsh roots too, we’ll think of you
and dedicate My usual Merlot to you and your good health.
I’ve been maybe a bit crotchety too this year after discovering a spot of
it in myself, but I’m now on the mend as well. Best wishes, glad you’ve had
warning in time.
- June 27, 2011 at 08:55
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Anna – All the very best. Caedmon and the monks at the Abbey will be having
a mass for you and praying hard. In the meantime, name the tumour Bob
Crow…
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June 26, 2011 at 19:10
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All I can say is keep on fighting….
- June 26, 2011 at 18:36
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Anna, best wishes for a speedy recovery.
I have no doubt you will soon have offending beastie kicked into touch.
- June 26, 2011 at 13:07
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I thought at first you had a bloody great rumour and put my gossip goggles
on for the details. Nothing will faze the Hammer of Sandwell Council
(Excretorum Malleus). Can we have the young French Doctor over ici, s’il vous
plait? Even better , the French NHS, run for the benefit of its
patients.
Best wishes to you and Mr G.
- June 26,
2011 at 01:50
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My best wishes to you.
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June 25, 2011 at 21:29
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Here’s to you and Mr G!
- June 25, 2011 at 18:32
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All the best to the Raccoon
Thanks for being here and thanks for being you from all at the Rabbit…
- June 25, 2011 at 18:18
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Yes, best to you!
- June 25,
2011 at 13:30
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Best wishes for a successful operation and a speedy recovery.
- June 25, 2011 at 13:28
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I’m cooking Harvey’s Lemon Pie, a Marco Pierre White recipe, but I shall
now rename it to be the Fighting Raccoon Tart in honour of your tenacity.
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June 25, 2011 at 13:12
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All the best & get better soon.
- June 25,
2011 at 12:51
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All best wishes, fight the good fight!
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June 25, 2011 at 12:50
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Whatever you called it, it’s on to a loser.
- June 25,
2011 at 11:16
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I’m very sorry to hear of this Anna, You fight enough battles for other
people, you don’t deserve one like this for yourself. Along with others here I
am wishing you all the best.
- June 25, 2011 at 09:49
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Don’t know what to say that hasn’t been said already.
But while you’re
there, could I have a pint of Guinness and some pork scratchings please?
All the best, enjoy your get together with Ms Smudd and please make sure
she doesn’t leave her teeth in the bistro.
- June 25, 2011 at 09:43
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Bon courage, Anna.
- June 25, 2011 at 09:20
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I have visions of you and Gloria in full Cissie and Ada mode discussing
“operations”
http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/clips/p00c3k26/the_best_of_les_dawson_adas_peculiar_complaint/
- June 25, 2011 at 09:08
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Errm, about that Fiver you owe me….
- June 25, 2011 at 09:11
- June 25,
2011 at 08:28
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The young doctor- hurrah! And, from what you write – the French health
system – hurrah!
Here’s to your system: may it put the gatecrasher firmly in its place.
- June 25,
2011 at 06:34
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“I have a bloody great tumour the size of a football, and it has to
go.”
Blimey! Chalk one up for the eager young buck who wanted to ensure the old
doc had nothing to ‘Hurumph!’ about on his return. That man is owed a lot of
pastis…
Good luck, Anna.
- June 25, 2011 at 06:46
- June 25, 2011 at 01:58
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Good luck Anna.
- June 25, 2011 at 00:15
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Jeez, mailed you earlier menioning your apparent hiatus – it all makes
sense now.
Best of luck, but I’m with procrustes.
- June 25, 2011 at 00:00
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Good luck Anna, I too had cancer without a single sign, it was found by
pure accident when they were looking for something else. I was shocked that
something so serious could be going on without having a clue. Surgery wasn’t
fun but I am fine now and I am sure you will be too. Guess we were unlucky to
get it but very lucky it was found at a treatable stage. I took the view that
if it had been meant to kill me it wouldn’t have been found. Really is a
silent killer, by the time you get symptoms it might be too late.
All the
best for August.
- June 24, 2011 at 23:42
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My money’s on the Racoon. Best wishes Anna.
- June 24, 2011 at 23:41
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Having been through something vaguely similar with my wife, I’m hopeful you
will reach that point at which the quietness becomes tangible.
- June 24, 2011 at 23:02
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If you must squirm around with an M-16, O best beloved, for heavens sake
try to ensure there is a magazine in the appropriate housing!
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June 24, 2011 at 22:33
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I thought Anna had escaped the clutches of the French hospital and turned
up in Hampshire – but then I noticed the website name and realised that it
wasn’t ‘our Anna’, only an imposter – http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2007688/Raccoon-swaps-wilds-North-America–Hampshire-garden-4-000-miles-away.html
- June 25, 2011 at 21:31
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Coats and hats, indeed!
Insert magazine, lock and load!
They
wouldn’t dare.
Best.
- June 24, 2011 at 21:38
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Best wishes. Nothing more to say.
- June 24, 2011 at 21:03
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I’d like to add this to the picture heading http://legendofbill.com/2011/05/14/barwench-tales-by-jason-williams-2/
because Anna is like Sarah and only just getting warmed up.
- June 24, 2011 at 21:01
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Hi Anna best of luck, First day of the “SOLDES” in Bordeaux yesterday.
Bloody quick this French vitale. Raccoons are hard to keep down.
- June 24, 2011 at 20:42
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I think the right response from your loving clientele is to say
” Put
something behind the bar for yourself my dear”
In my case I think this should be a magnum of France’s own celebratory
chemotherapy – for you and Mr G to toast each other and Dr S (may his name
live forever) on your eagerly awaited return
Hold me to this pledge all the rest of you bar-rats- SBML will I hope help
me redeem it…
- June 24, 2011 at 20:40
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This is neither maudlin nor sympathy at all, it is my experience over the
last 10 years.
My wife had it 3 times, the last time 10 years ago (thus the
10 years, above).
My youngest daughter had it last year, and on top of that
she had a massive brain tumour. So in less than one year, whilst the follow-up
treatment for the first op was still in full swing, she had to undergo another
massive intrusion into her brain, at 3 days notice.
My wife, I am glad to
say, still roasts me mercilessly if I get out of line.
My daughter I am
glad to say is worse to me than her Mum.
Facts is facts is facts.
- June 24, 2011 at 20:21
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That’s no mean deadline if you need to keep Ms Smudd out of mischief when
she arrives, Anna. Still, in a few days’ time you’ll be in a darn sight
healthier state than the Greek economy… Oh, and Zaphod is right: but still,
three resounding cheers for Dr Sebastian!
- June 24, 2011 at 20:12
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Jokes, positive, you say? Xkcd is, as often, the answer:
http://xkcd.com/828/
http://xkcd.com/836/
(Remember to hover the mouse ppointer over the strip…)
- June 24, 2011 at 19:33
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Anna,
A bottle or more of The Glenfiddich is known to be a sovereign
remedy for all manner of ills. It might not cure them all but it is damn fine
stuff and it has the property of making the world go away!
Highly
recommended.
From a long-time lurker and first-time poster.
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June 24, 2011 at 19:31
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What to say?
You can’t keep a good raccoon down, though sometimes some people might
actually *want* to.
Fighting spirit, erudition, wisdom, a zest for life and determination to
keep all that might impede those qualities at bay — some of things you might
expect of a good quaker, may be not the fighthing spirit, or may be so …
We’ve been simultaneously entertained, challenged, infuriated, left
seething (or at least I have), left educated and on occasion (me at least)
left humbled by the sharp, elegant, provocative, always entertaining,
occasionally down right outrageous prose of a formidable wordsmith at the
raccoon ‘blogspot’.
I want it to continue, without a doubt.
And it goes without saying that I wish you every success in this, latest
battle.
- June 24, 2011 at 20:01
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hb – don’t you think for one second it is going to do anything other than
continue either! I’ve got too many plans for the future.
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June 26, 2011 at 11:51
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Love it when you get that photo of you on manouvers out !
- June 24, 2011 at 19:22
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Blimey, Anna, you don’t believe in the quiet life, do you? If it’s not
small larcenous political party leaders or housemoves it’s deranged body
cells. Good luck with the treatment and here’s trusting in a full
recovery.
PS – Tell Mr G. he’s in our thoughts, too. Poor chap must be worried sick
but trying desperately not to show it. If there’s a cyber-cap going round,
I’ll lob a contribution in to a decent bottle or two for him.
- June 24, 2011 at 20:04
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Mr G has been furiously cutting grass all afternoon – he’s got his own
way of dealing with things.
Funny you should mention small larcenous etc – the first thing they told
me was to give ‘it’ a name and wish it ill.
Well, faced with a greedy parasitical useless lump of lard clinging on
where it wasn’t wanted, what would you have called it?
So did I.
- June 24, 2011 at 21:01
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You christened it ‘Prescott’?
Good call.
- June 27, 2011 at 15:58
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I was wondering about the title…
All the best Anna. And good luck, I hope it ends as “the doctor”
prescribes.
Simon
- June 24,
2011 at 19:17
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Best wishes, Anna.
- June 24, 2011 at 19:06
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Shall I tell you haw it is going to be ; they will take tumour out , give
you adjunct therapy and in a few months you will be right as rain . So prepare
for another 20 years of blogging .
Seriously , best wishes .
- June 24, 2011 at 19:01
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Your wish is my command Anna, I’ll not have a w(h)ine tonight, but pour my
own drinks? You’ll beat me out of the anaesthetic!
- June 24, 2011 at 18:51
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A new set of eyes and a blood test, the modern world is wonderful
sometimes, and it serves as a reminder that it is indeed time for the annual
Cascadian physical exam.
I don’t think it maudlin to wish you a heartfelt good outcome and a speedy
recovery, at any event I will risk the bullet through the head as Cascadian is
an extremely long distance from Mme Raccoon, and my experience of raccoons is
that they are awfully dextrous, sometimes cute but rarely carry rifles
(especially those of a quaker persuasion) with the required range, and the
earths curvature is working in my favour.
GloriaSmudd is a well known cure for cooling the blood and many other
things that ail thee, a giggly prognosis is assured.
Having worked behind the bar in a raucous east end London pub some forty
years-ago, I might be of some assistance. SBML knows how to find me.
- June 24,
2011 at 18:39
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Just wanted to wish you well -I’m sure you will pwn it. This is indeed my
favourite blog from the “other side”.
- June 24, 2011 at 18:21
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Heart And Soul, Girl. All The Way.
- June 24, 2011 at 18:25
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+1
- June 24, 2011 at 18:10
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Bloody doctors. Occasionally they get something right, and then you feel
obliged to appreciate them. Devious buggers.
- June 24, 2011 at 18:01
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I rarely comment but have read every post since you started. Thank goodness
there was a real reason for your silence. Along with (I’m sure) many others I
thought “Sad and Matt” had turned your mind away from raccooning with their
proposed revisions to the site.
And where has Gildas been hiding recently –
not to mention his female alter ego?
Here’s to you having a great time with
Gloria S (raises glass).
- June 24, 2011 at 21:15
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Noooo danger of that.
Just happened to be the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong
time, least unable to half pick-up the baton at 3 minutes notice when
everyone was unavoidably even busier than us.
Glad you’re back Anna, and sorry about the result.
- June 24, 2011 at 21:22
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(Btw I still need another few clicks on the Facebook Like button on the
RHS before I can launch the blog’s FB page properly).
- June 24, 2011 at 17:49
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I promise not to raid the crisps while you’re away.
Get well soon.
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