CYCLE 3 DAY 15

Awake, look at watch, 6:24. Bugger over slept! Leap from bed and dash about, take drugs, grab bag and head out to car. 7:05 on train to London. 8:24 disgorged at St Pancras and heading for the underground. 9:10 and I am siting in the café at the RCP prepping for the meeting by downing two cheese and ham croissant and black coffee. Its all a blur and I wonder where the time has gone. I won’t bore you with the details of the meeting but it was one of those that are necessary to tick the boxes, cross the t’s and dot the i’s. Nothing very inspiring but the nuts and bolts of what keeps projects going. A flog from 10 till 1:30 surviving on coffee and biscuits. I linger afterwards to chat to colleagues and sort out some odds and ends of work and then head for home. Fast train home and back in Leicester for 4:30pm and home by 5:30. An evening of TV and then the blog.

This version of my day is devoid of any stream of consciousness, thoughts or feelings, no observations of humanity or the world I live in. In fact a dull “I did this, I did that” type of diary day. The reality is that it was a day full of rich things, good conversation, jokes, gripes, phone calls, WhatsApp’s, interesting post and offers of exciting things for the new year. A day of exploring surprises and planning for the future. A day of real world stuff like messages about my now repaired car, but no price attached, of the bloke in front of me who got the last ham and cheese sandwich (bastard) and the car park mahine that did not work, and my gross irritation at my partner over parking on the drive. All of this and much more were the real meat of the day, the real life but the tiredness and the lethargy that chemo seems to bring with it stifles my enthusiasm to share it. Lurking in the background all day is the fact that I am up for blood tests tomorrow, a hospital appointment the day after and then on Monday I start the process of entering cycle 4 with all its attendant poisoning, block steroids and five days of self stabbing. Always there in the background it requires energy to contain it, remain pragmatic and keep direction. My oncologists letter to my GP says I am responding excellently to treatment, I hold onto that and begin to make plans for 2020. All the while the experience of being in this desert hinterland persists with time, my time, flexible like a Dali wax watch draped across my being. It drains me.