Or, how to talk rubbish for an hour,
whilst trying to sound knowledgeable.
Today’s entry will be shorter and less technical and scientific/medical than previously. Hope you don’t mind? The above – a now oversized, blue-black dressing gown that I don every morning before heading downstairs to commence the ritual of sorting out “my meds” – as we cancer patients say. Believe me, I headed down at 06:10am this morning and I have just now sat down (still in dressing gown) at my lap top (I have only one – uncool, I hear!), and it is now 07:36am. And no, it’s not that I have so little energy to explain my apparent slothliness, there’s just so many Meds! More later …. .
On the other hand, here today folks, exclusively to this channel, there’s some (Pseudo) -Science, -Statistics, -English as well as -Observation and Creativity.
Einstein, swore (shite!) that, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” And, “Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.”
Spike Milligan (another of my heroes) whose famous own hand-drawn cartoon, illustrates his wry humour, having him opening his own coffin atop the pall bearers entourage on the way into the church service, and announcing to the masses, “I told you I was ill”.
By the way, see if you can detect any further Spike Milligan flavoured humour (Besides this!!).
So, I just popped my dressing gown back where it should belong (who says?), on the back of the en suite bedroom door, from where it was – sur la plancher de la chambre – perfectly positioned if you ask me. At least that’s true for quickly donning it again at a moment’s notice. But hey, who am I to argue?
So what prompted the dressing gown conversation? Well, I just spotted more than my usual share of gray hairs of some 4-6cm length perched on the shoulder of said garment. These are not HWMBO’s either, since despite having her own gray locks ‘done’ in Cupar only yesterday, her median hair length (I checked from the middle parting line to tips and measured down both sides!) is actually about 15-20cm, with not sufficient outliers (alludes to Malcolm Gladwell, “Outliers”, 2012) to have such a random short hair sample so evenly spread in such a small area of said (my) dressing gown’s shoulder pads. Uhmm!
Malcolm Gladwell (A Brit, living in Canada, writes for the “The New Yorker” – one of my favourite writers, sometimes pseudo-scientific writers – more later!).
So, they (those damned gray hairs) do belong to moi! As there are no other bipedal or quadripedal critters with gray hair (that we are aware of anyway) in residence at chez nous I must conclude that indeed they are my hairs on my dressing gown, and that tells me maybe I’m beginning to show stages of development of yet another of the dreaded, ‘treated cancer patient’s lot’ – hair loss, baldness, trichomally-challenged pate – whatever!?
Is it time for that No. 5 buzz cut?
This lovely word, Trichomelessness, is the polar opposite of Hirsuteness, and though it would be nice and simple to think, “ah-ah, hirsuteness equals “normal”, and Trichomeless equals “cancer patient”. Well, it just ain’t so! Think of a 2×2 matrix and you’ll see there’s a nice pattern to all possibilities (though not male pattern trichomelessness necessarily!).
Not so long ago I was very hirsute (see Blog 1.) So, it is perhaps appropriate that I should shuttle amongst lots of these different combinations: such as ‘normal’, but balding normally for a sixty three year old; or cancer patient, with lots of hair; or ‘normal person’, with some hair; or even, cancer patient, without hair (a stereotype). You see, it is a matter of, you guessed it, fifty shades of gray! Unless, you are still brunette, blonde, red, auburn, mousy even, with only a little gray mixed in! Or, I’m in transition and on my way to becoming the cancer patient stereotype, regardless of my wishes!
Finally, to conclude today’s entry and tortuous journey to baldness (there, I’ve said it), the following list of words was generated from a search on Google whilst I was seeking appropriate photos or graphics to illustrate this cancer blog entry.
Hirsute means hairy: or shaggy, bushy, hair-covered, long-haired, woolly, furry, fleecy, fuzzy; bearded, unshaven, unshorn, be-whiskered, stubbly, bristly; technicalpilose, pileous, pappose, hispid; rarecrinite, crinigerous!!!
Who said dictionaries or even the Fleecebook and Gordon Brown’s Interworldwidewebsphere (courtesy of Andrew Neil, presenter, BBC2’s “This Week”) were useless and/or a social intrusion (respectively)? Not me, I love ’em all!
I’m off now, CYA again tomorrow. No science today, I’m exhausted, but tomorrow I’ll launch my next campaign:
“long live the NHS – but not as you know it!”
Bye for now.