Thursday, pre chemo day which means more steroids. Yesterdays blood results did not come through last night and they have not appeared this morning. I shall wait and see what happens but it maybe that the bloods done at the hospital do not get posted. Its a bummer if this is the case. I wake quite early and my partner brings me a hot water. We chat for a while about yesterdays chemo review session and other bits of business. My partner goes to see her mother with her brother, today they meet with physiotherapists to discuss future options and risk assessments. I write a couple of poems trying to process yesterdays chemotherapy review and the feelings it left me with. It’s all still very much a process in the digesting and I am not sure where it will lead, I just have to think and feel my way through it.

514
Having found my voice 
is it right I should sing
all sorts of songs?
Just as a singer
sings songs of all types,
should my voice not
speak poetry of all kinds?
I open my throat pen
but what flows is
the same tune.
One of cancerous rhetoric,
like a mourner 
at his own funereal
the lament is for 
himself.
Is this the way 
to use my voice?
Such a limited repertoire
that soon no one
hears any more.
There is a voice but silent
and soon
I become mute
and indifferent.

						514 09-04-2026

515
I’m fed up 
being seen as some 
weak wanker,
someone incapable,
infirmed and crippled
of judgement and ability.
Everyone quick to point out
my short comings,
my breathlessness
and fatigue.
I look around 
and find a sea
of eyes filled with 
faults and shortcomings.
Where is the gold star 
for effort, 
or the Happy Elephant 
for a good try?
Where is the encouragement
without the “shoulds”
and “oughts”
and “for your own goods”?
I’m fighting hard,
perhaps I could do more
but where is the incentive?
The data says
“Your holding your own”
“today is good”.
That doesn’t happen by accident,
I work fucking hard for that.
Everyday my body goes to war,
my mind wrestles
with the world
to stay engaged,
to stay alive,
to stay giving a fuck,
so either support me 
or fuck off.
I’m in a fight 
with enough opponents
as it is.
In this bout
I need people 
in my corner.

							515 09-04-2026

As I say its a process of making meaning of it all and finding a way forward that gets me to where I want to be. I guess there is going to be flack along the way. I get up and cook pasta for breakfast, which I down with my morning meds, enhanced with protective steroids. I check my emails, messages and news feeds, nothing of import there. I set my self the task of making a Shepherds pie for tea this evening knowing that my partner will have a demanding day. By the time I am done and the kitchen cleared it is early afternoon and my partner returns.

My partner and I chat about the mornings hospital visit and talk over the situation and the options and the rationale for each them . It is not an easy time for anyone at the moment. We drive to the nearest garden centre and indulge in hot chocolate and jam scones and continue our conversation from earlier. On a lighter note we recap where we have got to with Slow Horses. Feeling treated we return home via a petrol station and fill up my partners car. We should now have enough mileage between us to manage any crisis that might come up.

Once home we check the garden and close it up for the night and I retreat to the sofa and begin to draft the blog. The evening will see the demise of the Shepherds pie, some relaxing over Slow Horses and ultimately my enhanced night meds before I take myself to bed to rest as much as possible before chemo day and the start of Cycle 6. No doubt I shall label up a new children’s toothbrush with Cycle 6 before I tuck myself in for the night. I’ll also have one more check to see if my blood results have come through, then onwards.