A Letter from Dublin — Final Update

 

Saturday August 16, 2003

 

 

Hello Again —

 

                        Greetings from a very warm and sunny Dublin. Not as hot as some parts of Europe, but that’s OK with me.

            Before I continue, I’d better give my usual warning to anyone who’s reading this under the mistaken impression that it’s a proper newsletter about Ireland’s capital city. Well, it’s not, I’m afraid. This is the last of an occasional series of letters, which I have been writing in response to a large number of friends and well-wishers who have asked to be kept up to date with the state of my health, since I was diagnosed with throat cancer just one year ago. It is also published on some websites which have a special interest in Irish music and the Dubliners in particular. So if you’re not one of above, please ignore the rest of this with my blessing.

            First, as I look back at my previous letters it looks as if my last one (at the end of May 2003) may have been sent only to members of my family. If that’s so, my apologies! If not, I may be repeating myself in some parts of this letter.

Anyway, back to the bulletin! My last consultation with Dr. Armstrong was on July 18^th last, and I’m delighted to report that he was very pleased. He actually called it a "perfect exam", but that's as far as he'll go. "No irregularities found,” he said. Still, coming from him it's great news. He performed my favourite procedure, a laryngoscopy (not!) and had a general look around my throat. I tried to get him to say something really positive that I could use in this letter, but he just wouldn't; the best he would say is that the cancer appears to be in remission. I believe it's not in his nature to categorically say that everything is OK, and perhaps he’s right. Anyway, I don't have to see him again for a check-up until October, when my next appointment with Dr, Fennelly also comes up.

I am gradually getting my strength back, so gradually that I almost don’t notice it. Only when I realize that I’m doing a task quite easily, which three or four weeks ago would have exhausted me, do I see that it’s getting better. The other side effects of the disease and its treatment are still present, but some are improving. My senses of taste and smell are definitely coming back, and I’ve even had a few “proper” meals, a real luxury after a year of drinking “Ensure Plus” instead of eating. However the lack of saliva and the subsequent hoarseness are still a real problem, as are the swellings (inside and out), which seem to come and go at their own whim. In fact, because of the sudden attacks of acute dryness, the hoarseness appears to be getting worse instead of better, and that’s a real worry to me. However, in the great scheme of things I have much to be grateful for.

The only real downside is that, although the cancer seems to be on the run, it has taken my voice with it. Not too good for a singer! The damage done by the disease and the subsequent radiation treatment appears to be irreversible, according to the professionals, and I'll probably soon have to accept the fact that I won't sing again.  At the moment I'm finding it hard to come to terms with that, and to be honest I haven't yet. "Never" is too big a word for me, in spite of all medical evidence to the contrary. 

So I have, with great regret, told the Dubliners that I will not be joining them on the Dutch and German tours starting at the end of September. I was supposed to be the special guest on the tours, but our self-imposed deadline has come around and we have to make the decision with clinical detachment, no matter what my heart says. It's a strange thing, but I hadn't realized how much I would miss getting up in front of an audience. As a terminally lazy man, it was always my idea of heaven to be able to do nothing. Well, I was wrong. What I didn't realize about myself was that, to me, performing is not just making a living; it is living.  And when I think about it, I've never really done anything else in my life.

With all this free time, I've put my head down and finally started to write the book of "Barneyisms". We’ve been threatening for years to write the definitive collection of Barney McKenna’s amazing sayings, and there never seemed to be enough time, but now at last it’s going to happen. A couple of publishers have seen what I've written so far, and have expressed great interest. Wouldn’t it be great if they decided to publish it, and it came out in time for Christmas?

So, friends, that brings us up to date. Unless something monumental happens, this will be the last “Letter from Dublin”. It only remains for me to thank all the incredibly kind people, far too many to name individually, who have helped me so much over the last year just by letting me know that they were thinking of me. I firmly believe in Sympathetic Magic, and I have no doubt whatsoever that all the goodwill that was channeled to me from everyone who wrote, or called, or prayed for me made it easy to survive those months of radium and chemotherapy. And indeed this goodwill is still helping me now, as I look forward to 2004 and a possible, although not too likely, return to what I love doing best.

 

Thank you all once again —

 

Slán,

 

Jim McCann.