Friday and its my partner’ birthday so the day is a slow one and a day of celebration. After making breakfast for my partner there are cards and presents to open. I discover my dosettes are empty and I have to take time to refill them for the coming two weeks. All part of maintaining the scaffolding around me to keep me steady. Its a pouring rain day but we walk to the florist in the village, a first for us. Our aim is to find a new Christmas wreath for the front door. We look the stock over and choose the one on the florist door. Its a bright one that has incorporated peacock feathers, so I’m sold on it. Once home it is immediately installed on the front door.

There is a lot of mundane stuff and Christmas stuff that gets done during the rest of the day until its time to go out for a celebratory meal in the evening. The weather is foul but the restaurant is snug and warm and we dine in comfort with good food. At the end of the meal I decide I will have a small Armagnac with my decaf coffee. It’s an irrational choice but sometimes I just think I’m sick of doing the right thing all the time, right drink, right food, right exercise, right right. Just occasionally I like to do something normal, if unwise. After the meal and back home there is time to catch up with a couple of TV series that I’m following, then its time for meds and bed.

Saturday I wake up tired and late, I take my vitals, all good, and then book a Tesco delivery for Monday. Before getting up I give into a wave of something and write poem to get what ever it is that has swept me.

479
I just want it out there
on a page
in ink, by my pen
that I am lonely
and scared.
It's the waiting
to be called
for the first 
cycle of
the rechallenge.
Like an old gladiator
who knows that each
time in the arena
could be the last. 
There come a point 
when skill and experience
are no substitute
for strength. 
Each new conflict 
maybe the one
that Caesar
lowers the thumb
and for the first time 
the crowd roars
for the adversary. 

                                        479 06-12-2025

I finally get up and grab a bagel and drive my partner to the garden centre with the good butchers and buy a lot of meat to see us through the coming week. Loaded down with provisions we return home and I begin to contemplate the annual erection of the Christmas tree. After a snack and the second half of a football match I start to get the tree from the garage. All goes well and then its time to get into the loft and retrieve the Christmas lights and decorations. In the process of opening up the loft I discover that the landing light fitting is faulty. By now its dark so it will have to wait until tomorrow. I retrieve the lights box and the light up animal bag. I am soon putting batteries into plastic illuminated animals and placing them on the window sill to welcome people in.

With the animals done I set about putting the lights on the tree. Its not an arduous job but tricky at time. Finally I get it done and the boxes away in the loft and bring down the decoration boxes. I’ve no intention of dressing the tree alone apart from a few new clear drops until tomorrow.

I eat the evening meal and watch Strictly with the family. Finally I get round to drafting the blog against the background of a a series called The Flight Attendant. I get to the point where its time to take my meds and get to bed. Tomorrow I need to mend the light fitting, help decorate the tree and prepare for Mondays 28 day injection, yep its come round again, while I am in the throws of waiting for chemo the old stuff keeps rolling on. That’s the deal, that’s the grind.

Thursday and there is nothing in the diary. I wake up take my vitals, all good there and get up and dressed in order to accompany my partner to the gym. On arrival there is a conversation had with my partners hairdresser who has the salon at the gym. The upshot is that I now have a date and time to give up my hair. On Friday the 11th I shall shed my 6 year old hair, trim my beard right down in preparation for the onset of the chemo rechallenge. I’ve all ready done a quick “equipment check” to make sure I have the things I need to support the chemo. Children’s tooth brushes as my gums will get raw, antiseptic wipes and all the things I will need to self inject for the five days after the infusion. So I am slowly gathering my resources and putting my plan into place. It gives me the illusion of “doing something” but I know the real “doing something” will be the moment they stick the chemo (Yew tree goo) into my arm, that’s when it is really game on.

Once I am booked into with the hairdresser I settle down to eat my bacon bun and sip my black americano. While my partner does her “bobbing about in the water” class I sit and read The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa, another present from a friend. It is an intriguing book with a disturbing premise where like Brave New World can be rewritten only in the Memory Police things disappear along with the ability to remember them.

Once my partner has finished her aqua aerobics and joined me in the gym lounge we head for home. Once home I set about researching stair gates again having thought through the options and the discovery of low profile gates. Eventually I find one that fits our needs and order it. With this major chore done I take a trip to the post office to get rid of our Christmas cards. I arrive just in time to get the cards into the evening post. I collect some supplies and return home. There is time to put all my too small trousers into storage bags and stow them away in my “maybe I’ll get into them again” storage space. A quick Hoover round and I am ready to stop for the day. I take the chance to watch the highlights of the first day of the second test in Australia. Looked like it was going tits up but Root got a ton and and the tail end fast bowler got 35, so the day ended with the Brits due to come out for the second day with a decent score thanks to a final wicket partnership.

The evening arrives and I eat tea and start to draft the bog with Celebrity Race Across the World on in the background. So the evening winds it way towards night meds and some last minute organising for my partners birthday tomorrow.

Wednesday and as my partner goes off to visit her mother I take my vitals and set about putting things in order as the expectation is that it will not belong before I get called to start my chemo rechallenge proper. So once I had done breakfast and dressed I was off down the chemist to collect my usual drugs and more paracetamol. With those tucked away I head for the village shop and get cash, a paper and something to nibble. Once home I work my way through the crosswords and then set about transferring all the music from an old i-pod (remember those?). It takes a while to work out the pathways required but eventually I download it all.

I refill the bird and squirrel feeders and then set about the main task of the day. I remove all the clothes in my wardrobe that I can not wear because I have bigger than I was. It all get packed into a large storage box and the spare space is filled with garments from another wardrobe. So all that hangs in my space now are clothes that I can actually wear. It has been a salutary experience. I get the storage box into the loft and get on with some other chores that are related to my partners coming birthday.

None of of my suits or any of my blazers have made it so perhaps I need to go shopping again and be realistic what I can wear. The evening comes around and all the Christmas cards are ready to be posted, so by tea time I am content that a lot of pre chemo rechallenge tasks have been done. There are still a lot of things to do. The aim is to get the decks cleared by Friday, my partners birthday, and then it is onwards to Christmas, and of course chemo. Its getting the mundane done that will make the future more manageable. Future me will be pleased that I am doing this.

Tuesday and its oncology decision day. I wake early and do my vitals, all good, and eat the toast and hot water my partner brings me. It’s a day for new underwear and thermal top to make me feel comfortable and before I know it I am in the car with my partner driving me to the clinic at the hospital. We were both amazed that there was a parking space, not so impressed that the parking ticket machine was out of order and we had to walk down to the one by the maternity car park. With our ticket installed we entered the clinic and are directed to the waiting area. In fairness we did not have to wait long and we were soon called into the consulting room. ” he who made a pact with the devil ” asks how I am and then tells me who he has talk to about my options. Radio therapy is out, no surprise there, it was out nearly three years ago. There are no suitable trials available to me, I suspect the because Enzalutamide has stopped working for me that makes me ineligible for any trials as trails of new drugs are usually given in combination of standard treatment and that is what Enzalutamide is. So I spoke briefly about what had read and the fact that I could not find decent figures for the LU117 treatment and what I had decided I chosen.

I told “he who made a pact with the devil” that I was going for “chemotherapy rechallenge”. He asked me if I wanted to go before Christmas or after, I made it very clear I wanted to go as soon as possible. So he got out the consent forms for me to sign, the pressed a bloods form into my hand to have done prior to cycle 1 and another blood form for a virology check. With that done we were ushered out but not before I gave him two copies of The Cancer Years Anthology: Man to Man and told him to read the preface. I waited in the lounge area to be called to have my vitals done and have and ECG. I very quickly regretted wearing a new thermal top and a jumper as I realised the nurses would need access to my skin and veins. The nurse called me for my vitals and we had soon agreed my height and weight, my SATS were at 99% and on the second go at my blood pressure we got it down to 126/72, so all good there. From there we moved into the ECG room where I was wired and the measurements done, but not before my Fitbit screwed the reading up, so I had to take it off before a clean reading was obtained. With a good set of readings it was declared that my “heart was good”. Nice to know. With the basics done I get myself together and go to the loo for a pre-emptive pee. On my return I find a nurse is handing a prescription for pre chemo steroids into my partners hand. We take it and head for the pharmacy.

The pharmacy is new and the chap on reception goes through his well rehearsed routine and gives me a buzzer so that I and my partner can sit and wait for twenty minutes. The buzzer goes off and I collect my box of steroids and the small blue card to carry to tell everyone I am on steroids. With this job done my partner and I make our way to the building with the blood test department in it. We arrive and I find the numbered ticket dispenser at the door and I take a ticket, number 61. I then look up at the number indicator to see where I am in the queue and to my surprise the number showing is 252. It doesn’t take long to figure out that the tickets relates to the last two numbers on the indicator. However it is clear that soem of the people waiting are clearly bamboozled by this system and soem people end up having it explained to them by those that have worked it out. I think one bloke waiting in the corridor who was there when we arrived and there when we left had never figured it out. My turn rolls round and I have to free my right arm to expose a vein. The nurse is very good in her dual booth and is adept with the “small scratch” routine and son has three vials of my blood in little brown capped tubes. All watched by those in the waiting area as the curtain to the booth is never closed. With the bloods done my partner and I head for the car. We thought we had over done the car parking ticket fee but in reality we only had 20 minutes left on our time.

We drove to a favourite garden centre headed for with the intention of a late lunch but the place was full so we headed for another centre where we settled down for a late lunch. I was pleased with my chilli con carne choice and felt much better for a sizable meal. Feeling better we wandered a bit and bought odds and ends and meat from the centres butcher. It was home then to squirrel the food away and to have a drink. I then set about the days crosswords, no problems there and then onto draft the blog.

Tonight I shall watch football, take my night meds and plan my next moves. Obviously I need to get my hair chopped off and get clean shaven as its all going to fall out any way, then there is the rest of Christmas to sort out and all the events between now and then. The chemo rechallenge is in the mix so much depends when I get my instructions to attend my induction day and the actual start of my chemo. Time for flexibility and creativity but also to get my “game face” on, having chosen the rechallenge I need to give it my best shot. Today the rechallenge has started.

Its Monday and the last day of the Sticky Wicket phase of the blog, tomorrow I share share my decision about future intervention after my oncology review. So today I took my vitals, all good, and then had breakfast. I sent my morning and afternoon rearranging my clothes and making room in my wardrobe for what I need to hand. All this in my training gear, so when I have packed away a lot of clothes I head for the garage and the rower. My intention is to do a short 30 minute session as I might not have time over the next few days. I get on with it and meet my usual level.

The session gets recorded and I then shower. The evening rolls around and I eat tea and watch The Witcher. It seems that I may have trained too much as I think there is blood in my urine but over the course of the evening it clears. I take my meds and draft todays blog acutely aware that tomorrow I will have one of the most difficult conversations I have ever had. Trying to find the best answer in a no right answer situation is never easy, but this time it feels particularly difficult. I grit my teeth, focus and prepare for 10:15 tomorrow morning.

Sunday and I wake focussed on what needs to be done to day. I make warm drinks and then take my vitals, which are good. My partner and I get up for breakfast and I take my morning meds. As soon as we are ready we drive off to the local shopping centre, where I collect my newly cleaned giant jumper and my partner gathers together the making of a Christmas cake. With provisions bought we head for home.

My partner begins to make the Christmas cake and I watch part of a football match before changing into my training kit. Before heading for the garage and my trusty rower I go out into the garden and fill all the bird and squirrel feeders. Clearly the birds are coming into the gardens as there is little for them in the surrounding fields. With everything full I go to the garage and climb on to the rower and set myself for a 45 minute row. The garage is chilly as I set off at a steady pace. By the end of the session I have rowed my standard and I am pleased. There are going to have to be more sessions as I go forward, I am going to need to rely on my strength.

I record the session and begin to listen to a football match on the radio while I wait for the Tesco delivery. At last it arrives and there is squirrelling away of the shopping before I can change out of my training kit. Just as everything is away I get a message saying that a book has been delivered to me. I check and find the Amazon person has left it at the front gate, clearly not bright enough to open a gate and deliver it to the porch like most other delivery services (except Evri or who never manage to make it to the). The book looks very interesting and up my street so I shall be reading it very soon.

I change into some lounge wear and listen to radio football while I write my to do list to finish off Christmas and do some pre-emptive organising to see me through the coming weeks when I need to focus on my wellbeing. I order my regular drugs and start to draft the blog. My evening will of course include the Strictly result show before I get myself an early night. I need to be getting a better sleep routine to ensure I stay strong if I am going to up my training.

Saturday, it took me till 10:30 in the evening to look at my latest blood test results. My reluctance was justified. My PSA has risen exponentially. It makes my mind up for me. I need intervention as soon as possible.

Coincidently the oncologists summary of my last review arrived. It laid out the options very clearly. So when I read the blood results I did it in the the context of the review.

There is nothing I need to write now for this day. All I need to do is get to Tuesday’s oncology review and decision day. Now its all about focus and action.

Wednesday, seems a long way away now that I am at Friday morning but I do remember that my partner and I rose relatively early and that I drove into town in Elsie. Having parked up we walked in to the centre of town. What a depressing experience Leicester is, its all nail bars, monosodium glutimate restaurants and and boarded up shops. The shopping centre has the same array with an odd techno or watch shop. It is not a place I would go Christmas shopping in. My partner returned some clothes to a high street brand and we then went into a jewellers. After a bit of looking at some mediocre stuff we left and headed for another jewellers that I had used before. Here we spent more time looking at the stock. It seems to me that nowhere carries any where near the stock they used to, I guess none of them can afford to now that the internet has taken over the shopping habits of the population. Eventually a decision is reached, of course the object is going to have to be made but with luck and a following wind it might actually be available before Christmas. There is a bit of a haggle and a slight lowering of the price, half of which I paid, the rest on delivery.

After a coffee and pastry I drive us home. I decide its time I shared my thoughts about my cancer options with my partner so I wrote my preferred option on a card and put it in an envelope and gave my partner a card and an envelope and encouraged her to write her thoughts. With that done we opened each others envelopes. They did not match, so there followed a quite long discussion of what the options and our understandings of the options. It was a useful discussion and prompted me to read a bit more. In the early evening we were picked up by friends and went off to a local pub to indulge in “pie night”. Having drunk coffee for the first time in months earlier in the day I went all in and had a glass of red wine with the meal, not having had a drink in months, possibly years. It is probably to do with how I am feeling and dealing with an impossible decision. It was a lovely evening and good to talk to people outside the family. We returned home and I took my meds and watched some rubbish TV until I went to bed still not any clearer about what decision I am going to make.

Thursday arrived and I took my time getting up, checking my vitals before doing so. By and large my vitals have remained good and steady. The morning was taken up with getting ready to go with my partner to have our nails done. It is an extravagance but it provides something different that we can share. I always have something subtle and on this day it was no different. I suppose many people might look askance at a man of my age having my nails done and including polish and a subtle sparkle but I find it a pleasing experience, it is good to be pampered, I also learn new things. For example the salon had run out of my usual subtle sparkle so I had to decide on a new coating. What I choose was a “tigers eye” coating which is finished off by passing a magnet over the coating to shift the metallic particles in it to form patterns and to get the “tigers eye” effect. It was fascinating to see it come together. Just to top it off and be seasonal I had a snowflake painted on one nail of each hand. I was really pleased with them.

I do not usually do this but here is a plug for the Aumspas at David Lloyd Fosse Park in Leicester. Chloe is responsible for my lovely ” tigers eye” nails including the festive snowflake artwork. It is always a pleasure to visit and have my nails renewed and I always come away very happy with my new nails. Never too old to try something new.

While my partner was having her feet and hands finished I retired to the David Lloyd gym lounge and spent time catching up with what was in my head and wrote some poems that had been bubbling around as a result of my situation with my cancer.

475
And now I don’t know.
I ‘ve read and talked, 
reflected and worked
to make sense
of it all.
I still don’t know,
my partner has a 
different view
and so I study more 
trying to understand.
I conclude
that not knowing 
is the logical 
conclusion.
No choice is 
not an option,
every choice
a different way to die.
Now I know 
there is no knowing.
It’s a roll of the dice
in the universe.
Here I am 
Schrödinger’s cat 
sat on my knee. 
							475  27-11-2025

477
I long to write expansive poems like Darwish and Ginsberg that illuminate, that take the fibres of life and weave them into others being, To find themes that skewer the heart to the expression of life. I want to pull the strings that lead others down a path to hidden gardens and waves of engulfment that leave them feeling the hugeness of the sky, the speed of light and the briefness of life,
But I stumble,
trip over myself
and find dirt
in my mouth,
death in my eyes
and a gyroscope
running fast,
defying gravity,
in my head,
leaving me 
facing death
and its cold 
finality.
			477  27-11-2025

My partner soon joins me and we go off to the local superstore where I put a favourite jumper in for dry cleaning and we roam the baby aisle picking out new clothes for the grandchild to be and the grandchild that is. With our bags full we drive to the local garden centre for snack and a drink before returning home. There is a face time call with my youngest daughter who is expecting a new son at the end of December. In passing it is mentioned that the spare bedroom is no longer a bedroom but an office as the spaces in the house are rearranged to make room for the new baby and the management of the family. New life has a way of changing things, in this instance it means that my partner and I will not be able to stay given our needs and the requirements of the new family structure. It is something that we must think about and find ways to manage in the future but at the moment we have enough on our plate to deal with.

The evening rolls round and there is a simple tea, football, Race Across the World and the end of The Game to watch. Finally there meds to take before getting into bed and soem sleep to be sort. It is another day gone before my next oncology review on Tuesday, when a decision is due. I am closer to one but not yet 100% certain.

Friday and there are bloods to be taken, so after a warm drink, bagel and the usual taking of my vitals , all good, I get ready to go to the GP surgery. I walk down to the surgery and log in and very soon my 28 day jab nurse calls me in, apparently my usual bloods nurse is not around. It does not go well, my left arm vein is not playing ball and there is a lot of pushing “just a little bit more” and more fist clenching before the needle gets in and the Dracula vials get filled. I can feel my arm throb under its fluffy cloud of cotton wool as I walk to the co-op to get a paper. Once home my partner goes to the gym and I do the crosswords. I am on form and flash through them with any Google aid at all. With that out of the way I settle down to draft the blog. I am taken aback by the fact that I have not written anything in the last couple of days, which I think is an indication of the level of activity and distraction that has been going on. I get the usual feedback request about my visit to the hospital and I find myself irritated by it, as the resulting poem shows.

478
“as a valued patient”
the text says 
as it asks me 
to rate 
my last visit.
What the fuck 
does this mean?
“a valued patient”
that is dying 
but provides employment,
makes all that training 
worthwhile, student debt
tolerable and 
the caring professions 
feeling good.
“a valued patient”
Full of pharma,
giving profits
and status to industrialised
caring and potions.
“ a valued patient”
Nameless,
full of numbers,
a feedback
data generator
in order to show
the medics 
and the medicines 
work.
“as a valued patient”
Who has just been told,
fuck off and die,
you can shove 
your survey 
up your arse.
And yes I am angry 
and I am glad for it,
for it lights the fire
in my belly
that stokes 
me up 
to fight
what is beyond 
the grasp
of statistics
and questionnaires.
“as a valued patient”
you piss me off!


					478 27-11-2025

Moving on, its time to write Christmas cards before a tolerable evening of TV, rugby and the late night results of my blood test that frankly scare me shitless at the moment, but I cannot blink or look away, the enemy has to be stared in the face, the anger in the belly focused and the fight continued, because when all is said and done I’d rather be here than not. There are people I love and care about and I’m not about to surrender any time I can have with them.

Tuesday and I wake to find my partner gone to see her mother with her bother. I take my vitals and they are good. I read my emails and messages and do a bit more Christmas organising. When I finally get up I dress for a proper day and make myself breakfast. I then up date my blood pressure and vitals spread sheet and calculate the average blood pressure for the Sticky Wicket period so far. To date my average blood pressure of this time is 126/75, slap bang normal for me. My SATS, heartrate and temperature are also normal for me. So some things in my body are holding up. I do a few odd chores like recycling the cardboard boxes that are laying around. Its then that I realise I have a headache, My partner returns and I go out into the garden to refill the bird and squirrel feeders and return to the house to take paracetamol.

I relax for a while letting the sun warm me as the paracetamol takes effect and I rest. Amazon delivers my new poetry book or at least a book of poetry from a new poet that I have discovered. I noticed in a TV drama about Israelis hunting terrorists that one of the terrorists was reading a book by Mahmoud Darwish and wondered if this was real and part of the characterisation of the person in the drama. Just like I discovered Jim Harrison from a clip of Roadhouse. I found that Mahmoud was, and still is, a famous Palestinian poet and write so I looked on Amazon and found a book of his poetry, “If I were another”. That is what arrived mid afternoon and I have been reading it ever since. Once again I find an incredible poet, who says things in a way I never could. His poetry is just brilliant, I bet it is even better in the original Arabic.

I take a short break to go the post office to get a paper and supplies before returning to do the days cross words and read more of Darwish’s poetry. During this time I organise a phone call with a friend this evening before starting to draft the blog. The evening arrives so soon it will time to eat before my phone call and if I am lucky a football match. As always my intention is an early night after my meds, more important today as I intend to take my partner into town to buy her birthday present. I hope all goes well tonight.

Monday and I am up making warm drinks for my partner before taking my vitals, which are today, spot on. I get up and get into my training kit before having breakfast and face timing my youngest grandson. With that done and my partner going off to the gym I read the meters and send my figures of and then head for the garage and the rowing machine. Its been three days since I last trained so I decide to get myself together to do an hours session. The garage is cold so I am well wrapped up as I start out at a gentle pace, by half way I am below standard by about a minutes rowing so pick up the pace and by the end I am comfortably beyond my target for an hour.

I record the session in my journal and then make myself lunch before taking a shower. All time consuming and energy using. I do some more research on my cancer treatment options. I read a research article in the March 25 Oncologist which has some interesting numbers in. I also discover there are suitability scales for cancer interventions. The Karnofsky Performance Status scale is a 10 to 100 scale whereas the Eastern Co-Operative Oncology Group and World Health Organisation Scale uses 0 to 4 Both basically are fitness scales used to judge if you are suitable for a trial. Of course age is a consideration. I also read a 2023 study in which the use of Luterium177 in conjunction with Enzulamide the most common combination as far as I can see in Thernostics, which appears to be what most private clinics offer. They took their data point at 20 months after treatment either with Enzalutamide or Enzalutamide plus Luterium 177, the problem was that by then they were left with only 39% and 20% of their sample sizes. So although the PSA free periods was longer in the mixed medication group the sample size was small. As I no longer respond to Enzalutamide any combination of treatments looks unpromising. It also looks as if most trails of new drugs rely on the same model of trial drug plus normal treatment versus normal treatment, mostly Enzalutamide. I am aware that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing but the impression I am getting is that access to drugs trials or other forms of treatment ( Thernostics) is either not quick nor cheap depending on who is delivering the intervention. Doxetaxel is the standard chemotherapy that I had at the start of my cancer treatment and is an option which I know all about. So I am much more clearer now than I was and need time to mull it all over, but in reality I have until the middle of the week to make a decision to take into next Tuesdays oncology review. He who made a pact with the devil should have a response from radiography and any other forms of treatment he was going to pursue. My hunch is from what he said last time is that he would push me towards a trail, I am not sure about that. I want to be proactive as soon as possible. I finish my reading for the day and start to draft the blog, which is interrupted by the Tesco delivery. There is intense unpacking and squirrelling before I return to the blog.

The evening descends and there is tea to eat and thinking to do while I watch trash TV and plan more Christmas preparations. One thing I need to think about is a “Christmas letter”. Normally I hate them but last year they proved useful so I might consider again this year. I’m hoping to get an early night and more thinking time tomorrow at least until the new poetry book I ordered comes.