Bad Blood

Warming Up

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One of the many advantages of having had cancer is that you get regular check ups to make sure it’s not come back. Those check ups, of course can also reveal other stuff that you might not have noticed was wrong, nice and early so you get a chance to do something about it.

As with my last check up in November when my oncologist noticed my white blood count was low. This can happen for a variety of reasons, so nobody was too worried about it, but I’d go in for blood tests every month or so to see if it was getting better or worse.

My white blood cells seemed to be rallying and then dwindled a bit again, so a haematologist had a look at my blood and decided I should have my bone marrow tested, and the uncomfortable procedure was completed on the 5th anniversary of my testicle removal.

Having seen how fast things go when the NHS thinks you might have cancer, I was somewhat reassured when my next haematology phone call will be on June 2nd. They did say the test results would take three weeks and that if there was anything concerning that my appointment might be changed.

It’s been nearly five weeks now and I’ve not heard anything, so that’s probably good news, but these days you have to take into account the pressures on the NHS, so there’s the possibility that results have gone missing or got sent to the wrong place.

It’s sort of crazy that I am taking no news as being good news. It isn’t any kind of solution. And it’s reliant on the NHS knowing what they’re doing (I have to say that so far they have proven themselves to be excellent in my experience).

Obviously I am keen to know why my white blood cells are slacking off. On the last phone call my oncologist told me to try to avoid injuring myself as my blood will not be as good at clotting as it should be. Even when I have a full compliment of white blood cells I do make an effort not to injure myself. Loads of white blood cells don’t make me blase. I don’t think, I’ll chuck myself off this cliff because it won’t matter if I get hurt as my blood will clot efficiently.

Having been through a more serious medical emergency, it’s obviously a little nerve wracking to have something else going on. I don’t feel ill. My blood still seems to clot when I have minor bumps or scratches. I am a bit tired, but that’s been going on for eleven years (wish I could work out the cause of that).

The part of this that I don’t really want to face up to is that I am 59 this year and this kind of stuff is just going to be the background (and then foreground) of the rest of my life, however long that might be. If you talk to anyone my age and ask them how they are, you are unlikely to get a “really well” and instead there will be a list of aches and pills and maybe worse.

I am not bloodist, but I always preferred by red blood cells anyway. Is it not normal to be a bit suspicious of white blood cells. Blood is red, not white. Who are these white blood cells, coming over here, fighting our infections and clotting our blood? I am no doctor, but it seems to me we’d all be better off with no white blood cells at all. Let’s make blood red again.

Anyway fingers crossed that whatever this might be is a passing thing or easily treatable. Or that it’s so serious that I can do a show and a book about my struggle and monetise this thing and maybe get on the Traitors if they’re ever doing a series dedicated to people who don’t have enough white blood cells. If nothing else hopefully the government will give me some Mexico zipline money. Though if I fall off then I could be in big trouble.

So many bits of my body seem to be trying to kill me, even though that will mean their own death. That’s OK when you can just snip the thing off and chuck it in the bin, but I guess ultimately if my blood wants me dead then I might need to get all my blood syphoned out of me and replaced by someone else’s blood, like a lazy vampire.

There’s the title for the show and book. Fingers crossed. I am running out of testicle money now.

Tickets are now available for my 2026 Edinburgh Fringe run of RHLSTP (I will also be doing a couple of extra gigs at another venue in the early evening - more news soon). Book here.

And remember, each weekend you can catch up on all that week’s Craven Newsrounds in audio format.

Or catch them all with (the some would think essential) visuals on my brilliant Youtube channel. It’s ad free (though one bloke in the comments insists he is getting ads on my stuff - let me know if that’s happening to you and I will look into it).

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Back in the big time.

My episode of Bake Off: Stand Up To Cancer aired tonight and I was confident that my performance was so strong that the phone would start ringing as soon as the credits rolled. I waited by the phone, but it must have been broken because no one rang. Or maybe I will have to wait til business hours tomorrow, but the long and short of it is that finally I will get the celebrity lifestyle I deserve and I won’t need you losers any more. So this is the last blog you’ll be getting. Fuck the lot of you.

While I’m waiting for the calls I will finish off this blog though, because I am a nice guy. You don’t deserve me.

I’d forgotten about most of the stuff that happened so it was fun to watch it back.

They did include the bit where I cut my finger, though didn’t show any of the blood. I had to throw everything that I’d done away and start again and the wound kept opening for the rest of the day. They also cut the bit when Hollywood cracked open my snooker board and found a long hair in it. I made an excellent joke explaining why there was white stuff all over the snooker board I had as a teenager, that made the crew laugh. Although the show seems to love double entendres, that one seemed to go too far for them.

I was delighted to achieve a solid fourth place. I reckon I came third in the first challenge, definitely fourth in the technical and third or fourth in the biscuit one. Whichever way you flip that then that’s last place. Babatunde got a 2nd, 3rd and 3rd/4th so he definitely beat me on points.

I really wanted Jojo to win - what an incredible personality she is. Molly Mae was very keen to win and was always likely to, but as anyone who has seen me in anything will know, competitiveness is not an attractive quality. I am glad they included the bit where she questioned whether Babatunde’s handshake counted. She was joking, but then again, maybe she wasn’t. At that point she must have been worried she wouldn’t get the star baker apron (though as Phoebe later pointed out, they were hawking those for charity to viewers at the end, so it’s not necessarily that great a prize).

If Jojo had followed a recipe for the opening challenge then I think things would have been a lot closer. She was the baker of our hearts, even if she didn’t win.

I didn’t get a Hollywood handshake, or the even more coveted Hollywood handjob but I did make Paul Hollywood open a bin for me. Which I think is better. Has anyone else achieved that accolade?

My stuff may have been largely disastrous (though tasted good), but it’s all for a good cause. Any money you’re able to donate to Stand Up To Cancer will be hugely appreciated and will make a real difference.