Thursday arrives and its been a reasonable night. I get up after ditching the night bag I make breakfast and settle in on the recliner in the lounge. I watch the Post Office enquiry chew up and spit out a Fujitsu witness and listen to some odd radio programmes. God I’m bored and listless, in truth I’m not sure what to do with myself. I am just constantly uncomfortable and I’ve another eight days of this mixture of frustration and confinement to endure. I am sure I am not easy to live with in this state as I get more and more fractious and discontented with myself. Its difficult to engage with anything in this state and difficult to maintain focus on anything.

I have lunch and make an attempt to write something as a change to my routine. Its a painful process so I decide to try and get some time on the patio. Just sitting on an ordinary chair is a challenge but after some comfort arrangements I fire up the laptop and type up the poem I drafted earlier. Its a real struggle to be out on the patio and in the end I give up and go back to the lounge recliner and draft the blog. I add my effort to write earlier today.

399
So it appears
a pipe up the prick
stunts poetic urges.
Nine days after Uluru
is crushed to dust
and passed through plastic
I am a slave 
to catheter and bags.
My new found 
nautical gait impedes
along with a sloshing
calf.
It all sounds flip 
and fun
but the fitting in
and fixing to me 
was a night of trauma
as eventually the surgeon
mutters “got it!”
and I am bailed out.
All the horror of Jamaica
came flooding back
and once again 
I become medical flotsam. 
Slowly I wash up 
on beds of protection
and beaches of pills.
So days become
drainage and disposal
against a vista
of unexplored radio
and television gruel.
I’m stuck like this
where seven days 
becomes seventeen
before I get my chance
to prove I can pee 
free style,
and I can get back
to battle the cancer
that remains,
lurking and leering 
at my discomfort
and hoping my energy
has been leeched.
No chance sucker!
I’ve got clown pants
and athletic strapping
so I will be out
and about. 
Beware!

						399 21-06-2024

So I slide into the evening distracted and once again listless, I’ve got eight days of this, while other family members are ill and struggling. Its the fact that everything is such an effort and I become so spoonless so quickly that is getting to me.