Friday and its vampire day so I am up and ready to trot off to the GP surgery to get my blood sample done. My partner makes me a coffee while I get myself together. I don’t want to sound whingey but my injection site from Monday is sore, hard and definitely bruised. I get to the GP surgery, sign in and notice the guy sitting in front of me is clutching a box of FIRMAGON. A fellow prostate cancer sufferer waiting to go in and get his jab. There was a moment when I thought I might tap him on the shoulder and introduce myself and suggest we form a club, but being English of course I do not. I do notice that he is slightly limping with his hand in his pocket when he reappears and books a doctor appointment with the receptionist. I get called in and flourish my bloods form and bare my arm. The nurse who does bloods is extraordinary, she has the needle in my arm in a flash, no pain, no sharp scratch, and bleeds me with expert precision. In no time at all I have a fluffy cloud taped on my arm and I am on my way. So starts the wat for the results.

I buy a paper on the way home and read it over a fried egg sandwich and coffee on the patio. I read and do puzzles. I am engrossed but become aware of a new sound. I look up and there is one of this years squirrels taking peanuts out of the box and feasting. I sit rock still for ages and watch the little animal feed himself full. On occasions I assist my new small friend by gently shooing away the wood pigeon that tries to intrude. Lunch time comes around and I begin to get myself ready to train. I take my time and get myself comfortable and then start another half hour row. It goes okay and there is an improvement over yesterday.

I have a few minutes rest after the effort I go and shower. Before I get into the shower I dip test my urine and get a positive result for blood although there is nothing to be seen by the naked eye. I note the result and get on with my shower. Its been a while since I gave my hair a good wash and dry. By the time I’ve finished drying my hair the garden guy has arrived. I make him coffee, pay him and then excuse myself as I need to go and collect my eldest daughter from a police station where she is collecting data for her doctorate. I’m on time and sit outside the police station till she appears. All is well and we drive home.

My evening is a strange mixture of Indian take away, NCIS, women’s international football (it like real football only the goal keepers are famously crap), and Billie Eilish at Glastonbury. Eilish is a product of home schooling, fact. As I listen to the Eilish I also draft the blog. Mostly I am waiting for the witching hour when my blood results will get posted. No matter how I feel, no matter how many dip tests I do or how much research on google I do it is the science that is the marker for how well I am or not. Given the bout of COVID, the UTI and the kidney infection I’ve had I’ve no idea what my results will look like. I’ve had so much washing around inside me I’ve no idea how my results will go. To top it all my injection this month has been the worst its ever been in terms of prolonged soreness, bruising and lumpiness. I keep trying to balance resting and reactivation but its a frustrating process that leaves me irritable and difficult to live with, fuelled mostly by the anxiety of no longer trusting my body and wondering what is going to happen next.