New look at nutrition

The adage "you are what you eat" has never really done it for me.
That is until i had a session with an amazing german Doctor specialising in nutrition, who happened to be in the UK a couple of weeks ago.

Bernhard Zipf, the father of friends from Frankfurt trained/practised as a GP, but for the last 20 years has studied the impact that proper nutrition can have on a wide range of illnesses, including cancer.

It was rivetting. The basis of his findings/experience took 4 hours to explain, and the scientific evidence he had to back it up was compelling. Having had my treatment from the NHS brand of "school medicine", it was clear to me that this advice was from the "alternative" end of the spectrum. Not something i was particularly used to or comfortable with in the past.

"School medicine treats the cell" continued Dr Zipf, "alternative medicine treats the milieu (the setting, environment or whole)".

Using cancer as an example, standard treatment pathways use chemotherapy and radiotherapy to target the tumour's rogue cells. These methods are extremely invasive, have numerous unpleasant side-effects and have wildly divergent outcomes.

Dr Zipf's holistic approach by contrast uses a combination of natural de-toxing and de-acidifying, fasting, healthy eating & drinking to render the body a hostile environment for cancer to flourish in.

Our 21st century minds tend to struggle with this "back to the roots" kind of idea. It flies in the face of scientific advance and persuasive pharmaceutical marketing. But it also borrows a lot from the bank of common sense.

..substrate is everything... as Alan Titchmarsh will tell you - mushrooms and azaleas require an acidic soil in which to develop properly. Cancer cells also thrive in an acidic environment.
And so by using a structured nutrition regime to reduce acidity levels in the body, Bernhard has seen tumours slow down, regress and in some cases disappear. It sounds so very simple - too simple perhaps..

The whole detox/deacidify thing requires more explanation than i've given here and i'm not sure i'd do it justice anyway.
But suffice to say that the consultation has given me a new confidence in how to approach food(i came away with a raft of sensible dietary advice and a dizzying array of suppliments that i'll enlarge on in a future post).

Knowing what to eat following the Oesophagectomy was an ongoing problem. It was all a bit hit and miss. I was sick quite a lot, while the cancer dietitians encouraged me to eat "what was good for me". Hmmm.

I eventually found my way and made up my own rules and this process has encouraged me to analyse what i eat like never before. Prior to cancer i used to shovel in anything and everything, but i can't do this now. My digestive system is much more sensitive and i tread a fine line between enjoyment of and cautious respect for my food.

My ongoing thinking is, that if the impact of a meal can still have such a dramatic effect on me, the systemic effects of what i consume over a period of time has to be of significance. I think this is the start of a journey of discovery. I'm at the start, naive and a little dewy-eyed, but i'm convinced there's more to it than meets the eye and i'll be looking into it more.

Back in the UK!

We arrived back in the UK - 1am on Sunday morning.
So relieved to be home and amazing to see Claudia and the boys after the week's separation. Max asked, somewhat bewildered "are you going to be my daddy again? - forever??"

Our wonderful family, friends and church have been taking care of our needs - childcare, food etc

My GP is happy with how the scar is healing, but I've got to take things at the right pace. The operation was 2 weeks ago tonight..

Out of hospital - Convalescing in Palma

My staples are out (no more pictures..) and I'm hanging out by the pool at my relative Rosemary's apartment.
Mum is also here!! She flew out yesterday morning to nurse me back to health and accompany me home. What a total heroine.
She's great company.

The view from here is amazing. A panoramic sea view that changes throughout the day. A huge change from the 4 walls of the ward.

Just a bit paranoid about what I eat. What took me back to hospital was an Ileus Paralyticus.
My guts, already stunned by the operation, became inactive again because - I think - of what I was eating when i was first at Rosemary's. Apricots could have been the culprit. Time, painkillers and lots of fluids sorted me out in hospital so no new surgery will be necessary, which is good news.

Back to bread and water now

A holiday snap ;-)

Scars - oo-aaar!

My stomach has a new scar. The old one 5cm long was subtle enough to hide in the ample tufts of my belly hair un-noticed - mmm.

This new one may need a brass band or a troop of cheerleaders to provide distraction from it! Re-using the old cut, the surgeons ended up extending it to 12cm. This was necessary because 2 additional adhesions were found spaced out along the bowel that needed removing.

The incredi-wound is currently stapled together, resembling the rim of a cornish pasty (from a side view) or a worm that's not about to get very far...

The squeamish should look away



Don't say i didn't warn you :-)

My Bowels...

Hardly a topic for polite company, i know, but a friend asked me what the new blog would be called. I think cyberspace will be spared this, but the last 10 days have been a masterclass in what my bowels will do, won't do, feel like when twisted, squeezed, bloated - you name it. Apparently they respond like earthworms when you touch them..

Its very strange being this far from family and friends, marking the time and hoping/praying that things improve from here. The disappointment of having our big family holiday nipped in the bud is enormous. Claudia was brilliant AGAIN (including our friends - the Lines - who were with us at the time) at looking after the boys and visiting me. But when you're not complete as a family, being on holiday becomes more like being at home - but somewhere where there aren't enough toys/familiar distractions and the frustration of what might have been.

As Claudia has written (thanks love) i am back in hospital for a couple of days for observation. No eating / no drinking. My bowels need to spring back into action, or else there may concerns of yet more adhesions and another operation might be necessary.

In the meantime, my relative Rosemary who lives in Mallorca's capital Palma, has supplied me with a laptop, so i can update the blog.

So you see, i'm not completely on my own, the quality of care here is excellent despite the language barrier and i feel yet again lifted up (its feels strange but tangible) on a wave of prayer, breaking in from all over the world.

Surgery on holiday

This is Claudia writing. Thought it might help to do blog entry to keep people informed about the latest events.
We have just been on holiday to Mallorca. The first week was really great.
Sadly though, Pete became ill in the second week with abdominal pain and vomiting. The long and short of it is, that he required emergency surgery on Tuesday evening in a mallorquine hospital for small bowel obstruction. The surgeon told us that they had found the bowel twisted but also strangulated by some tight scar tissue, which stems from the previous surgery he underwent last year. Thankfully the bowel hadn't suffered any lasting damage and with the scar tissue cut through, it seemed everything would heal well.
I returned to the UK with the boys 2 days ago, as planned, but since Pete was still quite weak, we decided he should convalesce on the island. Rosemary, a "step aunt" living in Palma had offered to look after him, which we were extremely grateful for, although, of course, so disappointed and unsure as to why all this had to happen.
Pete was discharged on Saturday, just as we were flying back out to Bath. He had a couple of days at Rosemarys house but started to feel unwell again last night with more pain and vomiting.
He was readmitted to Inca Hospital in the early hours this morning and is now under observation on iv fluids, being kept nil by mouth.
He has just texted me to say that the vomiting has stopped but that the pain is unchanged.
Would appreciate your prayers for him at this time! We would so love to have him back home. Also I am unsure as to whether I need to fly back out to him. Many "unknowns" at the moment... Thanks for your support !

September catch-up

My CBT course is over except for a refresher evening in early November, where we get the chance to share the ups and downs of using our new weapon (CBT) in the inter-galactic struggle with our anxieties/depression... Fun.

Have i been a good boy? To be honest, its hard to add another layer of commitment over my already chaotic life. A few things seem quite useful - creating positive statements to speak out against the "catastrophising" thoughts that try to assert themselves.
Designating specific worry times (eg between 9 - 9.30am) leaving the rest of the day supposedly free of uncontrolled worrying. And so on.

Also, i'm on anti-depressants now. I've been quite snobbish about them in the past. As if it was a kind of weakness to take them.
Well, i need them. And while they've been lifting me out of the depths, they've levelled of the peaks too, which is kind of strange.
I have no idea how long i'll be taking them - we'll see.

The month HAS had a few highlights.
Firstly our 11th Anniversary, where Claudia and i drove "boy-free" around Devon in a camper van for the weekend - below in the Valley of the Rocks - a mile or so from where we first met



And Max has started school. What he's holding is the traditional present (packed with sweets, pencil case etc) given to children in Germany on their first ever day at school.

August catch-up

My CBT course is in its 4th week. We're an eclectic group of people with either anxiety or depression as our main bug-bear. There's lots of homework/tasks to do. Breathing exercises, practising positive statements, thought challenging to name a few. It all makes sense, but its difficult to carry through.

I'm in dark place at the moment. My low moods are debilitating. I'd hoped that "talking treatments" (CBT) would do the trick. I'm now thinking that the medication option will help me keep a better lid on things. Otherwise Claudia and the boys will continue having a rough deal.

One year on

The new me is 1 today!

My 365th day without cancer started with the lovely Claudia bringing me a cup of tea in bed, a card and a present
(2hrs + pamper session at Bath's Thermae Spa!!).
Like the queen, i now have 2 birthdays - the original Pete and the new one.

It may seem a little strange, seeing things from this perspective, but on this day a year ago my whole "being" went through the most collosal change.
Its a threshold that quite simply determines everything in my life as either pre- or post-surgery.

The experience has been totally horrific and yet life-saving - utterly bewildering and yet packed with the deepest meaning - depressing but also filled with a hope for the future. A future with my gorgeous wife and children. I'd merely looked forward to it before all this. The new me desperately aches and yearns for it. Its such a precious thing.

Speaking of aches. I've had terrible stomach aches over the last week. Whether this is a grumbling tummy bug, dumping from eating the wrong things or constipation from becoming dehydrated in this warm weather, i'm not sure. I don't think anything sinister is going on though.

A little bit of CBT will do nicely...

The weight-loss thing was most probably a red herring. I saw my consultant last week (not his registrar, which was nice). He seemed confident that a CT scan at this stage wasn't necessary. From now on i will be seeing him every 6 months, with Nurse Jo calling me inbetween to make sure things are ok. These guys focus on the physical me. The emotional me bumbles on with its ups and downs.

A Psychological therapist rang me 10 days ago for a telephone assessment of my emotional well-being. I then received a copy of her letter to my GP, to learn that my PHQ-9, GAD-7 and WSAS scores (17, 13 & 16) were concerning... hmm. The longhand for these obscure alphanumeric formulas is "moderately severe level of depression", "moderate level of anxiety" and "significant impact on overall functioning".

Do i recognise myself here? On a good day, no. But there are days when the clouds roll in, and my GAD-7 and WSAS-ness take a real bashing. So i've been refered for a 6 week course of CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy)

This will run from the end of July to early September. The NHS offers CBT in different formats. Working through an online program, group course work or 1 to 1 sessions. As the latter has a very long waiting list, i'll be dunking rich tea biscuits and learning coping mechanisms, on Monday nights, with some of Bath's other alphanumeric champions... Scintillating updates will follow!

Next 3 monthly clinic

Since my last hospital weigh-in i'd lost 2.2kg (70.8kg)..
The registrar raised his eyebrows and suggested i have blood taken and another CT scan.

Losing weight doesnt bode well when recovering from cancer treatment, however i hadn't had any lunch before the (mid-afternoon) appointment and had built up quite a sweat getting there.

Also, in the last 12 months i've had 5 CT scans, each with the equivalent radiation dose of a trip to the moon and back. So i'm not really keen on another one, unless its absolutely necessary.

So Claudia took my blood at the breakfast table, much to Max's sgust (he misses out the "di" on various words eg: saster etc). And thankfully the tests have come back clear.
Then i re-measured myself on the same scales this morning after breakfast and was back upto 71.8kg. I think this was just a blip - atleast that's how i'm choosing to see it.

Depression

Blog activity has dive-bombed this month.
To be honest, i haven't felt up to it.

We were away in Germany (in the Mosel region) for a week in early May. It was a lovely location and the self-catering accommodation was an amazing find. However i struggled with my emotions, became monosyllabic and found myself retreating into some of the darker corners of my mind. That wasn't good. Nor was it fair on Claudia or her parents who were visiting.

Back at home my GP has suggested i go for "talking treatments", rather than medication, for what he thinks is mild to moderate depression. Now there's a label! I'm on a referral list for counselling or cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). Let's see how that goes.

Finding the right work-life balance is still proving difficult.

Regarding my physical recovery, dumping is almost sorted. I have about one dicky-tummy episode a week. Exactly what causes it is unclear, as i monitor what i eat quite closely. Nausea is also much less of a problem now.

Heavy thoughts

It seems that only now, some of the bigger thought-provoking issues are converging on my already crowded mind. Things like:
What its been like to have had cancer.
How close i might have been to an in-operable stage.
How much my life will be/should be impacted by the last year's illness and treatment.

Although these themes seem quite obvious and may have surfaced in some way in past posts, most of my mind's energy in the last year has been focused on beating the cancer and securing the best recovery. It seems the time for philosophical reflection, for delving deeper, is upon me. And it makes me a little nervous.

Where will it lead? If my conclusions demand a change in course (ie: work or other commitments) will i be strong enough to take the plunge?

One thing's for certain. I can't do nothing about the buzzing thoughts in my head.

39

There are computer games, which start with a landscape covered in a "black fog". Wherever your characters move, the fog clears in front of them, revealing more of the game level's landscape until, after a while, everything is visible. Nothing can remain hidden. No enemy can attack from the shadows.

If last year's diagnosis started the game, surrounding me with uncertainty, turning 39 feels significant. A year won back from the fog. A little more has cleared. I'm hoping that a lot more of my "landscape" will become visible in the next few months.

Torches

I now look after the boys on Fridays. While Gina Ford wouldn't be proud of us, we do have a sort of structure for what happens during the day. After breakfast, we make the room dark, turn on loud music and go mad with my bike lights!!

At least they're getting some use.

New life

What a precious gift this life is. You only get one crack at it. Its full of mysteries that science tries to unravel and medicine tries to heal. It seems so fragile, and yet its so powerful.

Easter bursts at the seams with it. Jesus' journey from death to life has to be the most significant single event in human history. Death is no longer the full-stop. He is the source of life in all its fullness. Consider that!

During our Easter morning celebrations, Claudia and 3 others - including Darren's Linda!! - were baptised (also a symbol of passing from death to new life).

There was a green hill

Its usually overcast for me on Good Friday. Tracking the events leading up to Jesus' death, left me with a lingering melancholy. It all seemed so hopeless. Thank God it didnt end there. The weather certainly played its part.

Today was also a mini-anniversary that was playing quietly in the back of my mind. The 2nd April 2009 was the day my diagnosis was confirmed. The day Claudia, the boys and i went on a very lonely walk, on a hill overlooking Bath, trying to absorb the news.

But perspective is everything. We were given a bottle of champagne by dear friends who, anticipating this day, encouraged us to see the distance we have come and the exciting path to full recovery ahead. Amazing how you can turn glum-ness on its head!

Back to the BRI

After 8 months, i set foot on Ward 15 again. It was acutely strange.

I felt totally institutionalised in August last year, so it was with a certain degree of trepidation that i found my way back to the ward. My home for 20 long days.

The staff seemed pleased to see an ex-patient again. I had left in a wheelchair, pale, gaunt and hunched like a banana. They took a moment to recognise me in my upright, healthier-looking state. Trudy, a lovely nurse, could remember which beds i had occupied (in the right order) and that i'm writing a blog. She needed help with my name - but that's not surprising given the volume of patients flowing through the ward.
I was hoping to see Sam, a nurse who encouraged me through some of the harshest times. Sadly she wasn't around.

It was a short visit and not the main reason for visiting the BRI, but Claudia and i left the ward having refreshed our own very different memories of the place.

A big mi-steak

Claudi and i had a delicious meal at a popular restaurant the other night. A fabulous duck salad starter, followed by a shared 16oz steak... mmmm

Sometimes the eyes make a connection with the appetite part of the brain, over which there is no control. Eve had that problem once and look where it got her!
Does pain always follow pleasure? It did after the steak.

I couldn't get to sleep until 6am - so spent the night feeling sorry for myself and watching dvds.

Evidently my new alimentary canal is not yet fine-tuned for medium-rare meaty dishes.

Playdough

Rumours of Max's playdough skills are attracting media attention.
OK! and Hello magazine have just been on the phone for an exclusive.. ;-)






Confused?



Songs of Praise(?!) were filming our toddler group (broadcast in May).

I couldn't look at Aled Jones busily tapping on his Blackberry, without remembering his pudding-bowl and white cassock and hearing his 12 yr old voice in my head singing "we're walking in the air".

Poor bloke. He must get it all the time!
Such was my urge to sing, I had to bite my lip, hard.

Claudia couldn't help herself - but i don't think he heard.

Hero

Click on the link below and allow time for the video to download

http://en.tackfilm.se/?id=1268069064489RA68

A very important message!

Louis' latest stats

Age -- 16 months+

Weight -- 10kg

Prefered mode of transport -- bum shuffle

Most useful word -- mmMMMMAH!
which means: Mama/yes please/no, THAT one/Max/i'm hungry etc

Most used signs -- more/cat/bird

Favourite food -- pasta/dried apricots/chocolate/biscuits

7 Months on

I spent a hour or so in bed reading through an archive of incoming text messages from the early days of diagnosis till the 2nd round of chemotherapy. A short period of time during which i received over 400 messages of support from friends and family.

Many moments came alive again - times which seem so distant now. Though the effects of what happened then are all too real now.
It took the 400 messages for my nausea to ebb away. A frustrating side-effect of the Oesophagectomy which remains stubbornly in place. I have my theories of what causes it and a few dietary principles by which i live to avoid it as much as possible - but i'm clearly missing something. Maybe it just needs time.

Anyway, i still have 900 more to read which cover the time from surgery to the recovery period at home. At least i can keep myself occupied during the next 2 bouts of nausea...

A day with the brothers

Monks at lunch

It was one of the most unusual/fascinating things I think I’ve ever done.
I spent a day with a friend at Downside Abbey, a monastery inhabited by a community of Benedictine monks.
Antony’s holiday cottage was booked, so his fallback plan for our catch-up session was a place that he’d used as a retreat on several occasions.
The accommodation was fine and the setting was certainly austere, but the various brushes we had with monks over the day were exhilarating!

For me, the monastery newbie, the mealtimes were the highlight. They were in silence - almost. Antony and I would wait until the 20 or so black-robbed monks (early 30’s up to late 80’s) had filed/shuffled into the refectory.
We didn’t sit with the monks. Our table was off to one side, one corner of which was used as a stockpile for elderly monk medication – eg Dom John’s days-of-the-week tablet box of statins.

The meal would start with the Abbot “dinging” his ornate brass counter bell. The one exception to the silence was the monk chosen to read from a book, deemed by the Abbot to be of betterment to the community. The current passage was the chapter “Russia – the 3rd Rome” from Diarmaid Macculloch’s book - A history of Christianity. Hardly Jackie Collins, and it flew stratospherically over my head, but it was all part of this remarkable experience.
It required supreme self-restraint to stop myself taking surreptitious pictures of this amazing ritual. I failed once or twice and the monks around the refectory tables are just about visible.
The meal ended as it began with a “ding” from the Abbot. The reader finished mid-sentence… closed his book and the monks all filed out. You could almost hear the tumbleweed after they had processed out of the room.

It was a revelation to me. A good number of these men have lived the same routine at the abbey (starting with Matins prayer at 7am) day-in day-out for decades. One monk with whom we had polite conversation, Brother Martin, had been there for over 40 years. He was warm, articulate and super-intelligent – hardly the effect you’d imagine so much repetition to have had on someone’s mind. But maybe there’s method in the madness.

The Work of God for these monks as St Benedict describes it, is the incessant praise of God through prayer and study – mostly in silence. A simple, uncomplicated but devoted life. How utterly OTHER is that from today’s wild rat-race? The 24hrs there had a big enough impact on me. I'd like to do it again sometime soon.

And it begged a few questions of me. How often do I take time out – do nothing – sit in silence – take stock – take time to think things through properly?
How much stress, unnecessary baggage, anxiety, “noise” could I offload if I could “be” a little more and “do” a little less. Would it make life simpler, more manageable, more meaningful?

Hospital appointment - 3rd follow up

My consultant seems to get stuck in theatre almost every time i've had a follow-up appointment. Its not a personal thing i'm sure! So i was weighed, prodded and listened to by one of his registrars again.

It seems that i will be visiting the hospital more regularly than i thought.
For the 1st year it will be every 3 months, then on a 6 month basis and after 3 years, annually. As there is no blood test that can determine a recurrence of Oesophageal cancer, the surgeons rely on patients to report any major weight loss as one of the key indicators. The registrar told me that if oesophageal cancer ever comes back, it most likely happens within 5 years.

Anyway, the hospital whizzy scales told me i weigh 73kg (clothed), which is significantly less than what our £10 Argos scales have been saying. Surely cheap scales are supposed to under-estimate!

On all counts the doctor was encouraged by my progress...

Seeing the light

Claudia and i love this simple painting.

No, Max didn't paint it... its by the dutch artist Kees de Kort and depicts the very moment that a blind man has his vision miraculously restored.

The well-known story is described in the 10th chapter of Mark's gospel. Jesus is travelling from A to B and this guy called Bartimaeus happened to be sitting/begging at the roadside.

He was blind. His remaining senses sharpened to survive his poverty and total darkness, told him Jesus was coming. In his desperation to be noticed amid the noisy crowd, Bartimaeus performs the bible's first recorded tantrum. It worked and Jesus stopped.

Seconds later Bartimaeus can see. There was no long sermon, no credentials checked and no strings attached. This guy knew what he wanted and Jesus simply gave it to him there and then. It was as random as it was kind.

Bartimaeus was desperate, but he wasn't short of courage either. The vast crowd, always hungry for special effects, would have gone fiendishly quiet. He must have felt 100's of curious eyes on him, but he still dared himself to ask for the impossible.

The painting freezes the moment that followed. His eyes are filled with light for the first time. The colours are beautifully overwhelming. His cheeks are flushed with emotion, he's speechless. Having just won a sense, he's temporarily lost another.

Had he really expected it? who knows, but there were a few more followers on the road to Jerusalem that afternoon, that's for sure.

6 months (plus) on

Well, i've had a week without nausea, despite snacking (for England) on all sorts of rubbish.

Have i learned anything?

Maybe the upper part of my small intestine is now working more like a stomach, or i've just beaten it into submission.

7 months+ on from surgery and my eyes are starting to twinkle again, i'm walking straighter and i weight about 75kg - which is enough... or else i'll start snoring again.

The mind is a different matter. Its quite hard to keep on top of my emotions at times. Work is particularly stressful. Not because of any pressure placed on me. Its just that i'm starting work again in a completely different place, mentally, to where i left off, all those many months ago. I'm a different person to the Pete of May 2009.
Is it a process of finding my way back to where i was or of finding out who the new me is? This question could be applied to many aspects of my life.

Heavy stuff.

GSCE maths - age 4?

Shrugging off the question "in Japanese, what title is used as a mark of respect, as a suffix to the given name or surname?"...

He went straight onto the bonus challenge "count to 10 in German".

This boy is truelly amazing (and 100% free of pushy parenting).

The Big Freeze..

Antarctica or the White Cliffs of Dover?

After driving 2700km in 10 days, half of it through snow and subzero temperatures, we were amused to see the wall-to-wall news coverage of Britain's arctic experiences, on the ferry crossing back to Dover.

Honestly. A few inches of snow falls and the government crisis group "Cobra" has a crisis meeting to decide what to do in this time of crisis. Admittedly we do get less snow than our continental counterparts, but to a large extent, the way we deal with it reflects the litigation-mad society we've become.

No-one clears the snow and ice from the pavements anymore in the UK, because if you tried to clear it away and then someone slipped over and hurt themselves, you'd be liable...
In Germany, the exact opposite is the case. Residents are obliged to keep the pavements clear of snow and ice in front of their houses. Otherwise, they are liable for any injuries. The result? Clear pathways, no injuries, the old and disabled are not stuck at home.

Schools close in the UK during snowy weather, because if a child or parent slips and injures themselves coming to school, they could successfully sue..

I won't go on with the "in Germany this and in Germany that" thing, but it is fascinating to see how differently 2 countries deal with the same conditions.

So we're back in the saddle again. Claudia started work today, i'm on 4 mornings a week and the boys had to go to nursery again. Poor little Louis' face was heart-breaking to behold, as he recognised the room he shares with the other "ladybirds". I think i'll pick him up early.

New Year - new anything?

I've done it so many times before.. promised myself that THIS year will be different. I will learn a new skill, become a better husband, read more bible etc
But this new year will be significant for me, in view of something i wish NOT to happen, but which is something i can do nothing about.
I don't want cancer to be a part of my 2010.
Its all happened so quickly. This time last year i had no idea i'd be diagnosed with oesophageal cancer.
Now its theoretically all over, bar the all-clear, inevitably the doubts linger. Is it really all over? did they really catch every cell? might it come back?
I'd like to think that the millions of cancer patients in my shoes, think the same way. Its seems so terribly cowardly.
Its just that New Year offers a unique opportunity to ponder on the next complete calendar year of your life, and what you hope might/not happen in it. Based on 2009's revelations, i think i'll be opting for the sober hope for 2010, that nothing too dramatic occurs.
Ask me how i feel in February. I hope i'll have a braver resolution ready by then!