Vigilante

'We're now over 95% of the way through 2018, meaning that we can statistically reject 2017'. 

I received this terrible joke from close friend and maths teacher Azim last week. It brought back memories from far beyond 2017; of mind-numbing hours of statistical hypothesis testing in preparation for our first university exams, death by a thousand paper cuts from turning to the tables at the back of the musty, hard-bound vermillion stats text-book. The year? 2002.

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Some of you have asked me how the surgery in October went. It's been awesome to enjoy a couple of medically quiet months, to kind of just forget about The ticking time-bomb. In the context of the precious little difference these interventions sometimes make, it was a success. Remember how an ability to walk up and down stairs was a hospital discharge requirement? A few days after leaving the Harley Street Clinic I chuckled smugly on the Thames towpath, jogging happily on my way to pick Ernie up from nursery. A couple of hours before that my single stitch had been removed. A couple of hours later wife Ingrid would not be so impressed when I told her I was 'back in action'.

Physically, I've gone from strength to strength. Academically, I'm close to completing the formal transition from MPhil to PhD status (mostly an administrative distinction. Still, so you don’t get the wrong idea—life hasn’t been all runs and rides!). Medically, my latest scan showed the surgery worked: the golf ball that was my tumour is now more of a ping-pong ball, a mass of laser-charred cells surrounded by a shell of the cancerous ones. Ideally the shell would be gone too, but its limited volume is not a bad (re)start. Also, we don't know what these baddies are doing. They may be growing and consolidating but they may also be shrinking and dissipating. With a post-surgery baseline MRI to compare against, the next scan should offer an indication.

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'The price of freedom is eternal…' You know how it goes. I'm sure the hypothesis tests in medical textbooks call for vigilance. Indeed, the New Year will begin with a set of retaliatory strikes. 

The link with 2002?

That stats exam was harrowing. It was a long time ago but it feels like I took it yesterday. I had explained the academic theory to many of my closest friends but fared the worst on the paper. Still, years later the theory would prove pivotal in my achievement of a tough investment management qualification, in researching educational inequity and in understanding poker hands! It's like the exam became a part of me.

Not long after October's surgery I celebrated four years of living with and loving to hate The Terminator. 'Just one year to go before I hit (what the doctors call) long-term survivorship', I quip grimly. Seriously, the thought of more medicines; the TMZ, radiotherapy, CCNU, Gamma Knife, craniotomy, clomipramine, and the murky mess of all the other pills hit me with one tiresome blow... I took them a long time ago but it feels like I took them all yesterday.

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I'll tell you about the new ones when they come (and leave you instead with a photo of me almost half a lifetime ago, in 2001). On Sunday we're off to Sydney. I'm looking forward to a few more quiet weeks ahead.

With love and blessings, best wishes for the rest of your year

... as quiet or as loud as you want it!