Tag Archives: Buggernuts

Buckaroo to Boxing

By the time I was born my home was already outnumbered by men. With two older brothers and a rock steady dad I have been blessed (haunted) with three strong male role models my whole life. A couple of months ago my brother Gareth shared his journey with #FUCancer. This week Buggernuts takes the spotlight. And for those who are not familiar with who or what a ‘Buggernuts’ is – he is my one and only dad:

Descending from Welsh and Cornish stock, it would be safe to say  that my pedigree is Celtic in nature. This can mean I am volatile, slightly self-deprecating and hugely sentimental to the point of being maudlin. The sense of hiraeth – understood by so many Welshmen – is especially emphasised in those of us who are deemed to be ex-pats, so much so it can be over-powering. Crying, therefore, comes naturally to me even at my exalted age. There is no rhyme or reason when the throat will tighten and the tears roll; obvious times like the birth of a child or grandchild, the death of a close family member or friend are balanced by witnessing an unheralded act of kindness, a display of sportsmanship, the last night of a school show or the end of something really meaningful can all cause me to swallow hard, develop a lump in  the throat and the eyes to redden. Indeed as I write this I have just returned from accompanying my three-year old grandson…well, nearly four……to  his first rugby international, passing over the family baton as it were. I have had a very fortunate life – a loving wife, three great kids, two marvellous grandsons and an extended family of which I am inordinately proud. My family share my love of sport. My two sons and I chat on a level playing field about rugby and cricket and rugby and football and rugby and athletics and also rugby. We have been involved in the sport at various levels over a considerable passage of time. I also have a daughter!

Heather and I have a close relationship built around polar opposites; if I say white she will answer black; if I say yes she will say no and if I suggest in she will respond with out. You get the picture. We are also very competitive and the ten days we spent together in Fuerteventura were metaphorically quite bloody. Tennis, table tennis, pool, putting, paddle boarding were all undertaken with a bitter edge with no quarter asked or given. However there is also a trust and an understanding which exists between us. Needless to say I am extremely proud of her, even more so as, competition notwithstanding, she frequently asks for my thoughts, views, opinions and ideas on the important matters in her life. She will listen and appreciate my honesty and candour regardless of whether they conflict with hers or not. I am comfortable pointing out flaws and pitfalls in her projects knowing that they will not be taken as criticism but as a helpful and constructive insight. However, Heather has made me cry! I cried when she told me of her selection to play hockey for Scotland at age group level; I cried when I saw her take the field against Ireland. I cried when I saw her in her wedding dress (what father wouldn’t!) and I cried making THAT speech which, as dads we all hope to make one day but strangely, in our heart of hearts, don’t really want to. If friends and family are to be believed I cried throughout that day as I had at Owains’s wedding some years earlier.

I did not cry at Heather’s diagnosis. Heather was obviously shaken but she was also strong, matter of fact, committed, driven and was challenging me to be the same. As Angela has said Heather was making it easier for all of us. Tears were not what was wanted, I had a role to play, admittedly a subordinate one made up of driving, carrying, hurrying up and waiting. It is a role all father’s play but in this case the focus was sharper, more intense. Sometimes I wasn’t very good, to the point where Heather implored my wife not to leave me alone with her; other times I was great like the day I supported her carrying the Queen’s Baton around Leith. Curiously these two days are separated by twenty-four hours! But I didn’t cry! Heather gave me the inner strength to face the situation head on. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?
I did cry when I first heard she was in remission and will continue so to do. In the meantime I will do my damnedest to beat her at everything I can – from Scrabble to skittles, tiddly winks to tennis, Buckaroo to boxing. Heather wouldn’t expect anything less!

Competitive Buggernuts Buggernuts loves doughnuts Buggernuts or David Attenborough

Buggernuts

Finding out someone you care about has cancer is awful. When you discover it is your child, I can only imagine it is every parent’s worst nightmare.

In my home we call my dad Buggernuts. Believe it or not this is a term of endearment. For as long as I can remember my dad has had this name bestowed upon him and as often as I refer to him with this title he responds by calling me ‘Buggalugs’. There is no rhyme or reason for it. Unlike my mum and I who talk about the big things, the little things and everything in between, my dad and I have a very different relationship. I tend to tease him about his fluctuating weight, horrendous collection of ties and his ‘not so secret’ eating habits. (sorry Buggernuts, but your scrunched up Mars bar wrappers are easily found if you leave them everywhere you go) He likes to tease me also. Knowing I’m very competitive he takes great pleasure in beating me at most racquet sports. Furthermore he has been known to abuse my gullible tendencies: did you know that Johnny Wilkinson was the son of the lead singer of Shwaddy waddy?

Our relationship was a great one because I avoided the big ‘girly’ things which made him uncomfortable and he was simply there for everything else.

I must admit when cancer arrived I did initially think: will Buggernuts even know what a cervix is? And if not, will I have to tell him? Yikes!

For a relationship built on avoiding the big girly stuff this was not going to be easy. However Buggernuts, being the hero that he is stood by my side from day one! Within the first few weeks I was attending appointments where the chat was largely focused on my treatment. On one occasion my oncologist started explaining the side affects on the elasticity of my vagina. She continued ‘We’ll give you a dilator and show you how to use it!’ Buggernuts coped with this very well! Apart from a quick shift in his seat he managed to maintain conversation without so much as a shiver.

As treatment commenced and side affects followed it wasn’t long until I suffered from unrelenting cystisis. At this point the Funny Boy, Iceberg and Buggernuts took turns at keeping me company. I was never alone. Buggernuts never asked me exactly what was causing me pain but he did offer me pain killers, cranberry juice and a hot water bottle. Even now, I doubt he understands what cystisis is but the word itself sounds pretty evil!

Towards the end of treatment I was required to be in hospital overnight. At this point Buggernuts had developed a new coping mechanism: narcolepsy! Whilst waiting for radiotherapy alongside the other patients (the majority of whom were at least 4 decades older) my dad could often be found drifting into a slumber only to be woken by an aggressive snort as he began to snore! A similar situation occurred as he waited with Funny Boy and Iceberg for me to come out of surgery. The best time was when he bought me doughnuts. I found myself having regular cravings for random food. On this occasion I had a hankering for a maple glazed doughnut. As dependable as always Buggernuts arrived with Krispy Kreme aplenty. As soon as he plated them up and sat down to watch Cash in the Attic he fell asleep mid-munch. Crumbs on his belly and frosting in his beard!

As earlier indicated, Buggernuts and I have a relationship built on teasing and avoiding the big stuff. In the past year we got thrust into a world where dilators, menopause and cancer became regular points of conversation. We have even graduated to the point where he can now joke about me getting a prescription for Ann Summers! I know it’s not been easy for him, for any of us, but I just wanted to show him my appreciation: thank you for never asking me what a bloody cervix is!

#FUCancer


Mid treatment carrying the Queens Baton Relay with Buggernuts supporting me along the route!


An emotional day for Buggernuts!

Classic Buggernuts #classicdad