Author: miltonline

Yes I’m back in hospital. It’s those damn shingles again. I can’t seem to get enough of them. That’s why I am now calling them Pringles.

Thanks to those who have sent well wishes, much appreciated. Keep sacrificing those goats (A joke in reference to the philosopher Dan Dennett) Bridget and the staff here are rather splendid as is my suite/ward at the Hammersmith Hotel/Hospital. I was in quite a lot of pain today, so they’ve given me an antiviral ‘iv’ for the infection and 2 little Matrix style pills (whose name I must remember) They are some kind of painkiller, and suddenly I get why Elvis wore those clothes in his later career. They are lovely. Everything is lit like a Barbara Cartland Novel, and just so…interesting. Not sure how I’m going to come off these. Damn my abstinent principles.

Until now, I’ve been REALLY well. Busy, happy and made some strides on the pilgrimmage to 6-pack mecca. I see these setbacks as my personal memento mori (sp?) lest I rest back on my laurels, and fail to be hardy. (clever)

But I’m sick, this damn herpes zoster is a virilent bugger and wants to take over my entire being. I don’t care much for the ant-viral medication, but my enemy’s enemy is my friend.

Best wishes to all. This sort of an infection can be really serious but I feel real tough about such things these days and I’m so conditioned to be a patient, that I’m close to jabbing the needles in myself, programming the machines and then going off to check how all the other patients are doing. I might even buy a stethoscope and grow thicker eyebrows .

Love (platonic) & thanks (socratic)

milt

So if you think I haven’t suffered enough recently, you will be relieved to hear that an entire tooth has fallen out. Turns out my lower right molar wasn’t a big fan of radiotherapy and hospital visits and made a bid for freedom by decaying it’s roots. Lovely. So during my last hospital stay it fell out of my face in an impressive manner.

I spent yesterday afternoon getting it checked out at my local dentists who happen to be russian. They are lovely and competent but their english is not much better than my russian (or my regional Urdu for that matter) The first challenge is getting my name across to the receptionist. I can usually spell out my first name in a few minutes, but the fun (and time commitment) really starts with my surname. It works like this:

1. I say a letter as clearly as I can and she says a different and seemingly random one back. Sometimes they are not exactly letters but randomized vowel and consonant sounds. I try to work out the relationship between my letter and hers, but without Alan Turing and a series of computers, I can’t crack it.
2. I say “no” and return to 1) until after a few tries we come to some sort of vague compromise and move on to the next letter.
3. This game of verbal ping-pong continues for a few months untill I feel we might have reached the end of my name.
4. She reads the written name back to me and– it just sounds like a cross between an icelandic science-fiction superhero and a bad Scrabble hand: Nmaryqetdarz
5. So we start at 1) again and repeat the process until we both give up and she just draws a picture of me and puts it in the ‘file’

Now the dentist herself and I can communicate a little better but she has an absolutely amazing verbal habit of inserting the word “actually” in place of any form of punctuation, any word she doesn’t know or as a general substitute for breathing. It it quite remarkable and goes something like this:

“So what we will do actually is actually drill a post actually in your gum actually and put a crown actually on top actually and do you pay for your treatment actually?”

I am not exaggerating, please go there and see for yourself.

Anyway it will take ages to fix my tooth so I will be leaning to the left eating-wise for the next few weeks.

Talk to you later, actually!

Mrwlqk

Okay I have been sent home after a bizarrely comprehensive series of tests: every reflex point you can imagine and a few you can’t. They were concerned that the infection hadn’t spread to any organs (which can cause no end of trouble) or to my central nervous system (which can cause even less end of trouble). Having convinced the docs that I was physically responsive and all confusion was naturally occurring, my cannula rwas emoved, and I was discharged with 3 weeks of oral medication and a truckload of lethargy.

I am feeling a bit better, but really fatigued. I’m spending the next couple of weeks catching up on admin, tidying the house at a barely discernible tempo, working on a couple of magazine articles, tinkering at some PhD stuff and practising the guitar part to the Fame musical (which I’ll be depping for Tom Emerton) If for a moment you think this is at all impressive and are tempted to encourage me to slow down, think again: my day is so padded out with immobile staring into space, that I am considering a second job as a Madame Tussaud exhibit.

I will hopefully get to see my nephew soon and bring him some gifts – is Proust, Stravinsky and a deep-bodied Chablis appropriate?

More soon – in lethargy,

Milt x

Well I doubt that anyone is reading these sporadic updates, but I’ll write this for my own edification, and if you are here to witness it, then you are most welcome.

So I’ve been busy, lots of stuff including working with Pat Martino on the music of a feature length movie. Well my sister has had her little boy, Max, and they are both doing well after a couple of complicated days. I still haven’t introduced myself to my first nephew. Why? – I hear you ask, if you were actually listening- well it’s because…

I’M BACK IN HOSPITAL!!!

No not a relapse thankfully, but a nasty attack of shingles that didnt respond to oral medication and continued to spread. My consultant Dr. Eduardo Olavarria is one of the most respected haemotology experts in the country, and usually the most positive voice in the room, but he insisted I came into a ward in Dacie for IV treatment. So I’ve been here 4 days already receiving 2 hour IV tranfusions (700mg aciclovir) 3 times a day through a cannula. At this point I have to say that the care I am receiving at Hammersmith Hospital is of the HIGHEST level. A really clean and fully equipped room, friendly and skilled nurses available seconds after the buzzer. This is the best money can get, and for no money. Long may the NHS thrive, in my opinion a high point of civilization. All the more reason why we should protect it’s resources – let’s hope the July 1 public smoking ban encourages more people to quit- and here’s to the (idealistic) wish that humans begin to moderate their drinking- (Intoxication claims the huge majority of ambulance & emergency resources) Let’s start looking after ourselves when we have a choice in the matter so we can be better cared for when we don’t. Life is so short: we needn’t hurry it along.

The doctors were good enough to allow me out these past 3 days in order to play the guitar in the orchestra for a run of performances of the faaaabulous ‘City of Angels’ . My fellow musicians were surprised to see me with my hospital tags and a cannula on my strumming hand between IV drips. It was pretty tiring but I had a great time.

So I write this from my ward with a touch of reminiscence and reflection. Here I am again, plucked from the hamster wheel of life, just to be: enveloped in this medical womb. You can feels pretty sick in these places, but at the same time it feels somewhat wonderful to experience the most caring side of our fellow people have to offer.

The antiviral treatment is starting to work I feel, in which case I may be out of here in a few days- I will let you know when I’m out of isolation. In the meantime, I wish you all the very best 🙂

Milt x

My sister, and bone marrow donor, Alex is expecting a delivery this summer, a nephew for me to corrupt!!! Hurrah! She is doing fine and we are all excited and happy for her. I have uncontrollable twinges of pain connected to my infertility- but I only want to wish my sister and family all joy and good things for little Milton (or whatever they choose, although it has a ring to it…no?)

Much love, milt x

My 2 year Bone Marrow Transplant happened to fall on Easter Sunday this year- so I decided to mark this by hiking up England’s highest point, Scafell Pike. It was a 6-hour trek in generously mild conditions, although the peak was icy cold with terrible visibility. Check out the video if you like. During the hike, I reflected on my experience- and I still can’t fully absorb the enormity of it all. I can accept the diagnosis, but the fact that I am still around, relatively unscathed, feeling healthy & medication-free is absolutely surreal. I am on bonus time, a ghost, fully aware of the astounding miracle of my own existence, isolated from most people in some ways but deeply connected in others. I have no choice now but to live my life fully awake, grateful, astounded, challenged, curious & full of love. (Although I may take a break to watch some crap telly from time to time.)

We are all on borrowed time, and it is only an effort of delusion that stops us from feeling this- If you could truly feel that you only had a finite time on this planet, what would YOU do?

Hey all! Hope you are well.

I have just found out that I am off ALL medication. That’s it, no more*. (*Well for now at least)

How ironic that I have spent so much energy to be exceptional and special, but the greatest news and gift is to be ‘normal’

My blood counts are all normal, my check-ups are every 3 months now and my consultant says it is safe to stop all meds. It feels good.

As it happens I have no time to pontificate on this, I have maybe the busiest few weeks of my life ahead of me with concerts, commisions and gallery exhibitions to sort. (I’ll spare you the details but miltonmermikides.com is there for the interested) Bridget is slowly and surely becoming world famous and Monkey might be the most elegant creature in the known universe.

Must dash -take care,

Milton

So it’s f*cking Christmas again. Jolly f*cking ho-ho-ho arsing Christmas. Every year is the same ritual. I swear that THIS time I will absolutely veto the cynical-commercialized-such-a-swell-time-chocolate-rush-inducing-catalytic-tv-gazing-spirit-numbing-reindeer-jumper-wearing-uncle-farting farce that is the season to be f*cking jolly. But sure as buggery I will be drowning in the herds of last minute shoppers on Oxford Street on Christmas Eve, desperately trying to delude myself into thinking that the Beano annual 1974 is the IDEAL gift for my blind aunty. Well not this time. This time I’m gonna resist any softening in the heart, and scoff at the little choir boy’s puberty-tinged rendition of ‘Little Drummer Boy”. This time I’m gonna give nothing and refuse all gifts with an arrogant shrug. This time I’m just going to listen to Avant-Garde Jazz, eat sushi, burn my old decorations, declutter and wear Hawaiin shirts. I will jog through the Queen’s speech and not smile at any children. I will cut across anyone who attempts to wish me a Merry Christmas with a loud, slow lecture about jam. This time I will be immune to the tiniest drop of Christmas spirit.

Ooh look! some twinkly lights…

P.s. Merry Christmas, I love it really.

Two years ago I was diagnosed with an advanced condition of Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia (ALL) I was rushed to hospital and spent much of the next few months under treatment. I later discovered that the chances of me witnessing this two-year landmark were about 1 in 3. (30-40% survival rate)

So it was during a gig last night that I was struck with the (questionable) logical insight that I had a 60-70% chance of dying by the end of the set. I came close when the singer managed to forget the melody, rhythm & form to “Unchained Melody” in front of an attentive, art celebrity audience. But I don’t think that really counts.

So how do I feel? Well the answer to that question seems to be a string of paradoxes:
Shell-shocked yet grateful. More isolated from others yet more deeply connected. Acutely aware of the fragility of life yet more fearless. More confused and unsure of any beliefs, yet more lucid and clear. I feel like a ghost walking among the living, yet more alive than I have ever been. As you can see, elucidation escape me. I shouldn’t be here, yet here I am – and more glad of it than I can express with any justice. Again I must thank Bridget, my family, my close friends, colleagues and extended network for all the incredible support.

Last Sunday, my band, Rat Park (conceived before my illness) had our first public performance at the Park Lane Young Composers’ Symposium. It was an uncompromising performance in terms of style, vision and content in front of a knowledgeable, academic, critical audience and it went down really well.
We have our first full concert at the Guildford Music Festival in March 2007. It feels good.

Nothing is guaranteed and we all have a less than 100% chance of making it to any future date. This is both sobering and inspiring. If the next two years were your last, how would YOU want to spend them?

Follow your Bliss,

Milt 🙂

Okay, okay, I know.

I keep promising that I’ll ‘write again soon’- I really mean it at the time, and then despite a gnawing guilt, it gets to about a month before I update. To be fair, I am usually at miltchat with my leuka community so I am very much Net-present, but I don’t like to see digital cobwebs here- particularly with my stats report telling me that this place still gets daily bona fide visits.

“What have I been up to?” I hear you earnestly inquire- (although, in fact you are rather quiet today). Well..

My 2 days a week ‘Research’ at the Royal Academy has overflowed, but its all good clean creative fun so I’m happy. I also have 3 jazz guitar pupils at the Royal College of Music, a real treat. I have a couple of commissions at the moment for my composition work- love it, more please. My PhD is progressing faster than I feel I deserve, I have even been given an estimated due date for completion(July 2008). Considering I started in Jan 2004 (with a full-time job) and then had the little matter of acute leukaemia and a bone-marrow transplant in the middle of it, I think this is pretty good going. Of course it will mean so much when the air-stewardess desperately calls for a doctor on board, and I treat the suffering man with a very therapeutic lecture on rhythmic analysis.

I have another EGO concert in the diary. 18th March 2007 at the Guildford Music Festival. My trio Rat Park will also be performing that week. If you come along I might even talk to you if I’m not too busy being hoisted up on the shoulders of the townsfolk and being paraded jubilantly around Ye Olde Guildford. (That was for my American friends)

Health-wise, my visits have dwindled to a 3-monthly trickle, where I discover that my blood counts are perfect (other than that pesky-never-above-12.5-HgB) I almost forget how ill I was. Almost. So I do my best to look after myself, don’t drink, don’t smoke & now crack cocaine only on weekends (Ho-ho) I even gave up cappuccino (seriously) in a fit of masochistic bravado. I do a weight-training program 3 days a week, and cycle, run, or go for a long stridey walk. I eat the right things to, apart from the other night when Bridget and I had an utterly deborturous (can’t spell that one) KFC attack. The guilt is yet to pass but oh, heavenly temptations…

I seem to live a life of to-do lists. Okay 3 hours till that, I can do this, this and that. Although I never quite feel that I’m actually doing anything, always just about to. Maybe I need to improve my ‘Me-Here-Now’ thing as Bridget would wisely advise. Speaking of Bridget, she continues to do wonderful things, while thinking she is doing nothing, she is in a new all-girl Blues-Rock band (details to follow) and has become some what of a lovey hanging out with all sorts of celebs. She also ‘desperately needed’ a pair of very expensive sexy black boots from Russell & Bromley a couple of weeks ago, although I note they are still in the box- so emergency averted, I guess. But yes, she is very cool.

Monkey is quite clingy at the moment and if I am too self-absorbed to give him the attention he deserves he has thaken to a) Standing on my open laptop b) Emitting a haunting elongated whiney noise c) Standing on our favourite clothes or an important document and doing a cat impersonation of Michael Jackson’s ‘Moonwalk’ move from the Billie Jean performance at the Motown award ceremony.

Well there was some quantity (in the absence of wit and profundity) So I’ll leave you there. I promise I’ll update really soon. Ahem.

As an added bonus for reading all this, I will treat you to a work of genius (I sometimes use the word lightly)

Courtesy of a chap called Jeff Brechlin, this is the Hokey Pokey as it would have sounded in the work of Shakespeare…. Take care and oh, it’s halloween so I’m gonna dress up like Derek Acorah from ‘Most Haunted’ and pretend to be possessed with a scouse accent. Just like he does. Milt xxx

O proud left foot, that ventures quick within

Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.

Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:

Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.

Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,

A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.

To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.

Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.

The Hoke, the poke — banish now thy doubt

Verily, I say, ’tis what it’s all about.

— by “William Shakespeare”

Admittedly when asked at age 8 about my aspirations, “World Air Guitar Championship Judge” wouldn’t have ranked very highly. (Astronaut, Marine Biologist, Photographer, Artist, Explorer, Dinosaur Hunter, Journalist, Ghost-Hunter and Musician made up the list If I recall)

So it was with a great sense of surrealism (and excitement) with which I arrived in the city of Oulu (“Oh, Loo”), Finland. Incidentally, Oulu is an intriguing blend of cold war austerity and cutting-edge technology (and one of the only places on earth to have reached the level of civilization to offer FREE wireless broadband internet to ALL in it’s city centre.

The 6 days that ensued would fill a book in themselves- if I could remember them that is. But in short, the melange of enormous fun, an opportunity to share my story (“Healing Power of Music” Lecture) and be heard, immense hospitality, new great friendships and surprising emotional involvement made up one of the BEST trips in my life. I am REALLY hoping that I am invited out again.

For a peak of the winning air-guitarist, together with a half-second of me giving a score (5.9!) click here Browsing the site should satisfy any air-head.

A life-enhancing experience. What did I know when I was 8 anyway?

FYB,

Milt

P.s. Air Kisses to Alex Lipsitz (Director of the great movie “Air Guitar Nation”, Dan Crane aka Bj

Hope you are all enjoying the summer. I am trying to enjoy the British version. My last full blood counts are, I am happy to say “Indistinguishable from a perfectly healthy male'” My check-ups have dropped to 3-month periods- within 6 months I will be off the last remaining medication (penicillin) and will have my last innoculations (MMR)

Within a two-year time span it seems I have managed to contract leukaemia, undergo severe chemotherapy treatment, achieve remission, then the mother of all radiotherapy sessions, then a full bone marrow transplant, engraftment, continued remission, survived a few infections along the way, rebuilt my devastated body and immunity system. Of course I will NEVER truly escape the danger of relapse but it is as if an alien just leant over and added “+2” to my age. Have I learned anything. Well:

• Life is short- grab it while you can
• Take nothing for granted
• Treatment for leukaemia makes you feel REALLY, REALLY sick
• Not even morphine can make “Trisha” bearable.

FYB, milt x

My childlike immune system has, according to my medical team, recovered enough to be treated to some lovely immunity jabs. Today I had a serving of Revaxis (Tetanus, Diptheria & Inactivated Poli) in the left arm and Pneumovax II (Pneumoccacal vaccine) in the right. Big deal. I probably ingested all of those during my last visit to KFC. Measles, Mumps and Rubella on their way. Anyway, I got a sticker for being really brave, but unfortunately the nurse was all out of lollies. I didn’t make a fuss, as it wasn’t really her fault, but I have since wrote a formal letter of complaint. I want my lolly.

Milt x

Gig last night in the lovely PictureDrome, Northampton (An old-style cinema converted into a plush music/comedy/film venue. It was just Bridget and I (2 guitars & voice) playing Jazz, Blues ballady stuff. It was a nice venue but people just talked loudly through the whole set, which is slightly depressing. I also got to sit in with the next act, an acoustic guitar duo (Graham Roberts/Geoff Tooley) for some Jazz/Latin instrumentals. Good fun. It always strikes me that careers such as music must have the worst length of study to income return ratio of any undertaking. Lawyers need a degree and a few years before earning loads of money at the bar (and presumably spending it in the bar also). 8 years total? A doctor’s training- 10 years before they can hack at you and not giggle at the word ‘penis’? Now consider that most of my STUDENTS at the Royal Academy and Royal College have been training for a minimum of 10 years- My musical peers have been training for 15 years to 40+ years. And by training I mean BOTH Academic and Practical and usually not confined to term-times- we are talking a DAILY grind here. (Many of my musical friends feel lazy if they don’t practise every day) Are musicians paid proportionately for their work? Er no- I know some tremendously talented and dedicated musicians who in their forties are still struggling to pay rent, let alone own their own houses. Some of the most intelligent, creative, talented and inspirational people I know earn about the same as a Tesco cashier. Last night Bridget & I, drove over 2 hours to be largely ignored for

Just completed the 10K Charity Run. The total raised so far is