Blacking Out

The adventure is near and we have to get the house ready for my return. That means making it as light-proof as possible. I've dug out an old Weston Master light meter and found a table on the net that converts EVs (exposure values) into Lux. I'm allowed to experience 100 lux on my first day and this can increase by 100 lux per day for the first two weeks. The sunlight coming through one attic window this afternoon registered something like 8000 lux so there'll be someway to go!

I've brought several rolls of landscaping fabric. This is a woven, polyester sheet that is virtually 100% light proof. I've also bought a roll of gaffer tape and a box of drawing pins. The kitchen, with 6ft patio doors, 3 windows and a skylight will be the most difficult, our bedroom has 4 windows and another in the en-suite and the living room has 2 sets of French Doors and a window. We have a house with light and views which, in the present circumstances is a bit of a pain. Still it's not for long and won't take too long to do. I reckon a couple of hours from both of us and it will be finished if I don't run out of fabric. I've warned the neighbour in case she thinks we're turning the place into a bomb factory. We've also realised that we don't need to light-proof the whole house. There are some rooms where we can just keep the doors closed. At least this will mean that Elaine will be able to go and sit in some rooms (including the conservatory) where there will be natural daylight and even sunshine. Wouldn't you just know that the forecast for the next couple of weeks is for brighter, sunny weather! I am really going to resent not being able to sit in the conservatory and watch the garden or enjoy a rare glimpse of the sun. I'm going to be really p***ed off not being able to work in the garden as there are still a lot of jobs I want to do and I have really enjoyed the time I have spent on garden landscaping and design over the past couple of years. It's a weird thing living in a house that feels like winter all the time. In the places that I've 'proofed' already it seems like permanent night-time.

We've also fashioned a balaclava out of a thinner landscaping fabric. I've had to make it double thinkness as this fabric is not so lightproof. We had great fun working out a design and template, getting it to fit tight and making sure it covered exposed flesh generously. So far there are no eye-holes and it does get pretty warm in there. I may have to wear it as we drive back from London in a week and a half or I may just be able to cover up with a scarf. We'll probably drive back after sunset to avoid the sunlight but I don't know whether I'll even be able to drive so Elaine may have to do it all herself. Can you just see the scene if we get spotted and then stopped? Armed police approaching with their guns drawn whilst the mysterious hooded mobster/terrorist/bomber sits in the car and refuses to come out into the light. Then, when other police go to search the address given by DVLA, they arrive to find all the windows obscured by black, light-proof fabric making it impossible to see what is going on inside. But then they have to interrogate me but are not allowed to use the 'shine the light into the eyes' technique and so get nowhere.

Excuse the flight of fantasy - but can you imagine trying to get back home by public transport? As it is we'll probably have to arrange a mini-cab to collect us from the hospital and take us back to Brentford where we'll have left the car at my dads flat.

Fortunately we managed to get the cat into our neighbouring cattery. That's a major concern off our hands. They know him well and he knows them although he probably wouldn't choose to go there if we could ask him. He's so old and fussy that he needs coaxing before he will eat. That, together with the facts that he's deaf and virtually blind in one eye, means he needs special care and attention.

So, reckoning approaches. Once I get to London I may not be able to access the internet so there may be nothing added (nor e-mails answered) for a couple of weeks. After that I should be able to say how successful the treatment has been - so watch this space.

Ron

Here I go!

I think my first visit to the hospital was on 8th May, I was referred sometime in February by my dentist. Now, at last, I am in sight of some treatment. It's been a long journey of hope and disappointment. All along the way I've been told it's probably nothing, there's no sign of cancer, yes we can give you a complete cure, there's nothing to worry about, everything will be OK. In turn I have been giving out these messages and I really do believe this. I also know I have to die of something and I am sure there are worse things than cancer, especially now that there is such good palliative care.

LONDON CALLING: I have to go down next Tuesday (31st July) ready for an appointment for an ultrasound scan on Wednesday. After that a final day of 'freedom' before going into hospital for the 'vampire injection' on Friday. This will be followed by a very boring weekend in hospital, in a coffin, with the lid closed. The 'procedure' will then take place on Tuesday 7th August (wish me luck!) after which they will probably keep me in for Tuesday and maybe Wednesday night. Then back to Worcester on Thursday and the first six days of light avoidance will already have gone.

In the meantime we have to light-proof the house. Like all vampires, sunlight means death to me. Unlike Dracula and Co. I wouldn't explode into a cloud of dust but would slowly redden and blister over the next 24 hours until I look like the elephant man and feel like Joan of Arc. Not an experience to be recommended. We have to cover all the doors and windows with light proof cloth- I'll probably use weed control fabric as when it's finished with I can use it in the garden. I don't know how light proof it is so, if necessary, I'll have to put up double layers. The conservatory will be a challenge which I won't even take on. I'll just not be able to use it for a few weeks and will light-proof the doors into it. One of the nicest things about out house is that it is so light with many windows and beautiful views. It's not often that I wished I lived in an ecofriendly, underground home - but this is one of the occasions when I do.
Still, the most sensitive time will be over by the time I get home. I'll be able to use the computer and watch the telly, even walk around the common at dusk. A week later I'll be able to sit in the shade in the garden for a short while and even test my sensitivity to sunlight. Hopefully a couple of weeks after that (end of August) I'll be able to lead a fairly normal life. All part of life's rich tapestry; not to be recommended but - as they say - what doesn't kill you just makes you stronger. I'll keep busy up until next week - there's a lot to do and it will keep my mind off things; then the waiting and the nerves will start. Hopefully the treatment will go smoothly and I'll be one of those lucky people who does not experience too much pain afterwards - I think I can handle cave-dwelling but if I can't eat I'll be miserable I expect.

I may not be able to add to this blog while I'm in hospital so there may be no news after Tuesday next for 10 days or so. Hope you can wait for the next thrilling installment!

I'll be thinking of you!

Ron

Forget the bl***ing cancer, THIS is serious!!!

It started raining at about 8.00pm on Thursday evening after a beautiful sunny day. Within ten minutes it was coming down in buckets and this kept up all night and all day on Friday. What a day to retire on!

What with the cancer, hospital visits and treatment research I'd not had much time to think about retirement. Well that's not quite accurate - I had cleared my desk, removed most of my personal property, finished all my administrative tasks, shredded or disposed of no longer needed papers, brought gifts, written a speech and so on - but I hadn't come to terms with the reality.

That all changed yesterday afternoon when I looked at rooms, friends, colleagues, pigeon- holes, name-tags, equipment, chairs, coat-pegs, trays, kettles, switches, roof tiles, puddles, carpets, mats, windows, text books, mugs, boards, door handles, initials and a thousand and one other things that will no longer be part of my life. Everything that has been a familiar part of my professional life for 18 years has suddenly been stripped away. My relationship with half my life has gone and will never be there again. I am now a different person and even when I go back to visit I will not be the same person as I was yesterday and the day before and the 18 years before that.

I gave a speech. It was expected and is part of the tradition - and I enjoyed it. As a teacher, like all my colleagues, there are times when I enjoy having an audience and enjoy making people laugh. I didn't expect to choke up or get emotional ... but I did and that was a really strange experience. Trips, study leave and the foulest of weather meant that that some of those who have been most important to me over the years were not able to be there and were sorely missed. Not that I took a register but amongst them were, in no particular order ... Danny DCH, Gisele GTW, Kate CMJ, Rachel RT and Helen HLJ, Caroline HCT, Karen KEM, Deb Wilko ?DW, Oliver OG, Andy AMW and Rob RE, Katie KAW. I'm sure I've missed many who are equally important to me but as I said, I didn't take a register. If you're one who couldn't be there, I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to you guys - you have all been so important to me over the years.

Of course, with the emotion of the time and the only semi-completed transcription, I lost my way and missed out some parts of my speech. You only get one crack at these things but there's part of me that wants to do it again (like getting married) - although I know the jokes won't be as funny the second time around! However I'm not going to apply for another performance or even provide you with the script for the bits I missed out but I will just say three things that I forgot to say on Friday.

1. Thank you to all of you. There has never been a colleague that I've learnt or gained nothing from. Every one of you has added something to my life - thanks.

2. If I've ever offended or upset any one of you I apologise. That was never my intention.

3. My thanks/toasts really should have been toasts - looking back I can see that there is a significant distinction between toasting those who have put in their time serving a community or those of us, trained in teacher training colleges who are still non-graduates, and offering thanks to them. In that light I want to offer one final toast that I forgot on Friday.
To Heads and Deputies - I've worked with over thirty Heads and Deputies over the years. There were four alone at DSHS in 1989 when I first arrived. They have been of all sorts and natures; some are still my friends. So ladies and gentlemen I give you Heads and Deputies, God bless them - why is it they can NEVER get ANYTHING right?

So thanks to all my colleagues, current and past, you've meant a lot to me. Your help, support and friendship over the years, particularly in the last year and especially in the past few weeks has been invaluable and hugely welcome. I won't forget you - indeed I've got a couple of hundred weight of granite to make sure I don't.

It will be obvious from the picture that this is not finished yet. I'll publish another picture when it's all done.

I'll always be pleased to hear from you by whatever means you choose. I will count it a happy and lucky day should I meet up with you - deliberately or by chance or when you come to visit.

So - there we go, a new life starts today and perhaps a new blog - well once this one is concluded anyway.

I love and will miss you all.

Ron

A VERY Nice Man

My mouth has just got painful since last weekend. Suddenly I find that I'm just bitting the inside of my mouth when I chew. Either it has swollen a little more or I've bitten it unknowingly (in the night?) or something else. Whatever now, every time I chew anything I'm just aware of nipping the inside of my left cheek. Eating is no longer a pleasure and for the last 48 hours I've been living on a liquid diet of soup and scrambled egg. I think I'm likely to start liquidise other food for variety and to avoid have to prepare two meals. I'm also likely to get a juicer. This was recommended by the Bristol Cancer Centre. They want be to boost my immune system and improve my diet by drinking organic apple and carrot juice. Well if I can't chew this maybe a good idea.
I'm glad I did my homework - and that may just be the first time in my lifeI've ever said that! Spend most of yesterday in UCHL. Deliberately got there early in the hope that I might be seen early and get away before the rush hour. I didn't and so Elaine and I sat for an hour and a half in a cramped, overheated waiting room. I had an amusing read to keep me occupied and she had her novel but it was still tedious and trying. Eventually, at about 4.00pm we met the consultant himself. He took a look in my mouth and unhesitatingly agreed that it could be treated, with a likely success rate of 88 - 93%. It's likely to hurt - possibly like hell, but they'll give me a bucket load of analgesics (everything from paracetamol to morphine) as well as opiate patches, to control the pain. They'll remove my wisdom teeth which are now catching my cheek and which may have had some part to play in damaging my cheek; they'll inject me with the magic potion that both finds and then destroys the cancer cells; they lock me away in a darkened room for the next three days and then they'll zap my cheek with a laser. Following this I may stay in hospital for night or two more whilst they monitor my light sensitivity and initial recovery and then I have to become a vampire for another two weeks or so whilst I am still highly photosensitive. With good luck within four weeks life should be back to something like normal. I won't be able to work in the garden all day, well not stripped to the waist anyway, but I will be able to go out for short walks as long as I'm covered and it's not wall-to-wall Mediterranean sunshine. Within 3 months things should pretty much be back to normal but I will need to keep my injection arm covered for abut 6 months to be sure that all the magic potion has cleared out of my system. After that, monitoring for another 5 years and hopefully all will be OK.
So when can they start?
Injections are given on Friday and treatment the following Tuesday. So ... not tomorrow, possibly next Friday (27th July), more likely the following Friday (3rd August) but just maybe the Friday after that (10th). The longer it's put off the more time I'll have to get the garden sorted.
So,that's where it's at now - and for those of you wondering - yes all on the NHS.
OK, time to go to work - more soon.

Ron

Ignorance is Ignorance

Perhaps what pissed me off the most last Tuesday, was the fact that the 'experts' - the Butcher and the Dalek - felt no need whatsoever to even mention the fact that butchery and blasting with ray-guns were not the only therapies. I could have come away from that meeting feeling that these were the only options. Never, not at the preliminary meeting nor at the board, did anyone even hint that there were other treatments. I don't think I was even advised to look for alternatives.

But THERE ARE ALTERNATIVES and they sound seriously better that the comparatively primitive approaches supported by my local NHS. If you have just discovered that you have cancer you MUST investigate the range of therapies. Don't fall into the trap of thinking that the first doctor you are referred to is going to be the best - or even give you the best advice. According to something I read it takes an average of 17 years for new, cutting edge (pun) treatments to be accepted as acceptable mainstream practice. Can you imagine your consultant driving around in a 17 year old car ... on his salary? I don't think so!
I've been doing a lot more looking into Photodynamic Therapy since last Wednesday. It almost sounds miraculous! Apparently it's been around for almost 100 years - and as far as I can discover there are still only two places offering this on the NHS. So I feel lucky to have got as far as an appointment in just a week.
But even the NHS is not at the cutting edge. Light therapy has come on significantly in the last few years. Firstly the photosensitive dyes have improved. But before that, a warning...I cannot guarantee the accuracy of what come next. This is just my interpretation of what I have read on the net. I think I understand it but I am just a layman so there could be errors. However, I think I've got the big picture right. Back to the dyes. The original ones were based on haemoglobin, obviously a substance that had huge ability to carry extra oxygen around. They are also long lasting which is the reason that one has to avoid exposure to bright lights for several weeks after. More recently dyes have been developed based on chlorophyl. Apparently this is quite similar chemically to haemoglobin and clearly schoolboy science tells us that it is light sensitive. But the dye's life time is much shorter and as far as I can discover it does not react to normal light so the body is nothing like as photosensitive. Secondly the light source and type of light used has moved on. The original dyes responded to intense white/blue light generated by a laser. This light could only penetrate tissue to a depth of around a third of an inch so only shallow or superficial tumours can be treated in this way. Only one treatment was needed if it was appropriate. More recent developments have designed short-life dyes that respond to infrared and red light. The wave length of this light enables deep tissue penetration (think of infared heat lamps used to treat muscular problems). The light is generated by a machine that looks something like a sunbed! You lie on it for anything between 15 and 45 minutes whilst your whole body is dosed with infared. As the dyes only attach to cancerous cells only diseased parts of the body are effected. However, if the cancer has spread (metastesized) even unknown tumours deep inside the body are destroyed. The treatment regime is also different. Instead of having just one blast of light and thanks very much it's all over now, the treament extends over two weeks. Injection or drops on Monday then three exposure sessions on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday - all repeated again the following week and then a follow up appointment with the consultant two weeks later to check that the bloods etc are clear. A follow up MRI scan after a couple of months and Bob's y'er uncle.
Of course, it goes to say that this treatment is not yet available on the NHS. Give it another 10 years or so and treatments like this may be widespread but for now there is only one place in England where it is done - a private clinic in Hampshire. Whilst they will accept NHS funded patients the NHS is unlikely to pay for it. But the atmosphere is changing. Contact your Primary Care Trust and ask for the Commissioning Officer. If you can convince said officer that this treatment and ONLY this treatment will deal with your illness you may stand a chance of the fairly hefty fee being paid for you.
This treatment is (apparently) so effective that some people, with a history of cancer in their family, are now using it as a precautionary, preventative measure. As there is no level of toxicity or build up of effect (as there is with the Dalek treatment) treatment seems to be completely safe and infinitely repeatable. I know, it sounds too good to be true. Watch this space!
For those of you who are mystified by the Dalek reference: You are obviously not fans of Dr Who. This is a very long running science-fiction TV drama which has been broadcast by the BBC since the early 1960's. Dr Who, the last of the Time Lords travels the universe in his time and space ship the Tardis. He has a particular affection for the people of earth who he saves from universal destruction almost every week. The Daleks are one of his chief ememies - a combination of slime and robot armed with ray-guns and a limited vocabulary of which "EXTERMINATE!!" is the most frequently repeated word.

OK - now what?

It's two weeks today since my diagnosis. Yesterday we went back to see the consultants and get the results of the investigations that had been done over the last fortnight. It was not as dreadful as it could have been although we would have been better reassured if they had at least looked at the chest x-ray.

There were two doctors there at first and they each outlined their treatment option. First the cutter. He could cut open my cheek have first measured up my jaw for a stainless steel plate. (They were going to 'break' my jaw to ease access and then screw it together again.) After that the surgeon would remove the tumour and surrounding tissue, graft on some skin from the inside of my wrist, graft some skin from my abdomen onto the wrist, sew everything back up together and bob's your uncle .... I was told that the pain would be controlled by strong analgesics for a few days after which domestic painkillers would suffice, I will be fed by a tube into my stomach and would start to eat for myself only 3 or 4 days in, the scars would not be evident and the risks of droopy lip and stuck tight closed mouth were easily exaggerated. It didn't sound too bad!!

The ray-gun man then outlined his approach. They will take out any questionable teeth right round to the upper and lower incisors. After that they zap me, every day and sometimes twice a day except weekends. Everything is fine for the first week or two - then things start getting unpleasant. The mouth begins to get ulcerated, the cheek feels sunburnt, the mouth dries up, the tongue gets swollen, the place where the lips meet dries and cracks, the beard stops growing on one side of the face, hair drops out at the nape of the neck where the rays emerge and more and more and still 3 weeks of torture to go. I could see me lying in bed in the morning with a mouth that felt as though it had been filled with boiling tar, not wanting to drive down to Cheltenham for yet another dose. I found it hard to imagine that anyone would choose this option if there was a choice. The ray-zapping causes such damage to the jaw-bone and soft tissues that future injuries will heal only very slowly if at all - hence the prior removal of teeth and the ban on boxing for the future. I really don't think I want to tackle this!

I asked about 'alternative therapies' and drew a gallery of blank, somewhat disapproving faces at the suggestions of hydrogen peroxide therapy, treatment with urea or shark cartilidge, ultra huge doses of vitamins and other dietary variations. Then I mentioned light therapy. This drew a more approving response - "We don't do that here!" Not too helpful you might think, I certainly did - but they did give me the contact details of a consultant at University College Hospital - London. Now you might not believe in omens or fate or destiny or anything like that but I could not but fail to be heartened by the fact that I was born in UCHL. They managed to get that bit of my life right so maybe there's hope now as well. I got in touch and by the miracles of fax, alumni, badgering, answer phones and hot pursuit I managed to get an appointment next Wednesday afternoon (18th July). The doctor is the head of the National Medical Laser Institute but is also an oral surgeon so hopefully I'll get clear, unbiased advice about the pros and cons of each treatment. The Photo-dynamic therapy sounds as though it could be helpful. They inject me with a light sensitive dye that attaches to cancerous cells only. Once it's had time to circulate they blast the affected area with high intensity light. The dye then gives up an oxygen atom which goes on to kill the cancerous cells. Healthy tissue is not effected and there is only one treatment. Downsides - the cheek will feel burnt for a while and I will remain photo-sensitive for about 6 weeks which means I will have to avoid bright lights, sunshine and so on. Another problem is that the light can only penetrate about a quarter of an inch so if the tumour is too deep the treatment will not be appropriate. At the least I hope to get unbiased advice about which type of treatment is more appropriate.

After that - back to Worcester Royal Infirmary on Tuesday 24th for a final decision if it hasn't been taken already. So, more waiting, a second opinion, an alternative treatment which, if appropriate might be less traumatic and invasive than anything else on offer and a good few weeks of unpleasantness to look forward to. And plenty of hope.

If you're in a similar position to me - good luck.

Ron

Starting Points

Where do I start?

Fears? Hopes? Details? Denials? Resignation? Expectations? Anticipation?

There's a lot to think about and much to hope for. This is going to change my life but in ways I cannot yet foresee. Astonishingly, there seems to be a part of me that is quite accepting of the fact that cancer has been diagnosed, the same part that says 'well, just get on with it.' It may be the same part that expects me to make a full recovery. Oh I know I may come out with some minor surgical mutilation but other than that I don't expect this inconvenience to stop me enjoying my imminent retirement. On that note maybe I should start a Retirement Blog as well as I have no idea how I'm going to cope with that either.

Well, for those of you who want to know, here is the story so far:-

February 2006 - I was aware of an ulcer in my left cheek (my handsome side) that wasn't healing. I mentioned it to my dentist at my annual check up. (Or did I just say to myself 'I must mention this to my dentist'?) However nothing came of this and I just waited longer for it to heal.

Summer/Autumn 2006 - the ulcer had still not healed and I mentioned it to my dad when he enquired after my health. A week or two later he advised me to have it checked up on as 'they can go cancerous and there's a history of cancer in our family.'

Autumn 2006 - started to self-treat the ulcer with over the counter jells and mouth washes. Chemist advised me to have it looked at it it hadn't healed within a few weeks.

February 2007 - back to the dentist. She had no record of me mentioning the ulcer the previous year - maybe it had only been an intention. This year she did feel it needed looking at. She squeezed it, felt under my jaw, prodded and poked and made encouraging sounds. I was not panicked when I left.

As It happened I was also being referred for some physiotherapy on my knee at the same time so when I had heard from the physio dept but not from the facial-surgical I started badgering the hospital - something I would advise anyone to do as it is my experience that they can take months to just pass your notes from one dept to another!

April 2007 - first appointment with the facial surgeons. Inspection by junior and consultant sounds encouraging. No signs of cancer, probably just infection or fungal complaint ... take these pills twice a day and come back in two weeks.

May 2007 - no change. Stop taking pills. Prodded and felt by more doctors - might be lichen planus but need a biopsy to confirm. Come back in four weeks as there's no essential urgency.

June 2007 - biopsy. Not unpleasant although that normal instinctive reaction to having needles stuck in you kicked in. I lay there in the chair with fists clenched, body rigid, practising controlled breathing. OK, all done, come back for the results in a couple of weeks.

3 days later, a phone call, can you come in next Wednesday? Warning Bells, WARNING BELLS, ALARM BELLS!! and an anxious wait.

The next Wednesday - arrive at the dept to find NO-ONE else there. The place is ghostly quiet which is a bit unsettling to start with. Then receptionists and nurses appear and Elaine and I are ushered into an examination room. Elaine had come as an extra pair of ears, I have a tendency (I'm told) to only hear what I want to hear so I thought it a good idea to have a back up.

The consultant-surgeon-master-cutter arrived and re-examined my mouth and cheek, murmured and mumbled some incantations to himself, went out, came back, re-examined the notes and then started blathering on about something or other.

I was getting to the point of a murder defence on the groups of incompetent obfuscation when he dropped in the C word. I was more disappointed than surprised. I had hoped until that point that the problem was rooted elsewhere.

Then began the detailing of the position. It was a squamsomething cancer and that was good as it was slow growing and not particularly invasive. It was an awkward and inconvenient place to have a cancer as access was so restricted so if they were going to remove it by surgery they would have to peel my cheek back to get to it. However that wasn't all bad as they would then be able to have ready access to the lymph nodes under my jaw should any of them show signs of the cancer spreading. They would have to remove a significant part of the inside of my cheek and replace it with a skin graft from my hairy arm, another problem and then I would have to shave inside my mouth (only kidding - I think). The operation would take 8 hours and then up to two weeks recovery in hospital. But I shouldn't worry as reconstructive surgery was very good these days and all I would be left with was a dry mouth, droopy lip and the inability to open my mouth wide enough to brush my teeth or bite into an apple.

Alternatively it might be possible to treat it with radio-therapy. This would involve weekly visits (daily according to Elaine - it was a good job that I took her!) to Cheltenham,about 30 miles away. There they would give me tooth-killing doses of ray-gun emissions and hope that I didn't disappear Dalek like in a flash of green light. Just to spare my teeth they would remove all my left side molars and pre-molars before the treatment. Although it wasn't mentioned, I imagine they will replace them with something after the treatment is over, otherwise I will be searching the car boot sales for shark's teeth necklaces or something similar.

This was a week and a half ago.



Since then I've had x-rays of my jaw and chest (how ominous is that!?), blood tests and an MRI scan of my neck. Then, this Tuesday, we go to get the results and treatment must start by around the 25th July to comply with government deadlines. For those of you not in the UK - I get all this free of charge. Well, free at point of delivery because of course I've been paying for it all my working life through our National Insurance Scheme.

In the meantime I've been reading and so has Elaine. We've looked at alternative therapies, alternative treatment centres, peoples blogs, advice, questions, support groups and Cancer Charities. I've told my colleagues and am slowly getting round to telling friends and neighbours (which I have found much harder).

So early on it's hard to give advice but - for what it's worth try the following:-

Regard cancer as an illness not a death sentence.

Tell people - their warmth, affection and support is almost a cure in itself.

Move quickly - I didn't and now wish I had. Better to get it wrong at an early stage than right later on.

Chase the bl...y hospital. If you don't hear soon, ring them up and ask if they've lost your notes. You're so surprised not to have heard already. (And you've heard how incompetent they can be


OK - that's it for now - if you're suffering - good luck, stay smiling and be strong.


Ron