Wednesday, another bin day and, on this occasion, an oncology review day. I do my usual eighty eight minutes of pre rising rituals, including a poem and then get up to shower.

553
It takes eighty eight minutes 
to do my life each morning.
Messages, emails, news feeds,
TV listings and my vitals.
That’s it.
From then on its all vertical potential,
Showers, to do lists and inspiration.
Occasionally there is disease control,
talks with oncologists, dates in diaries
and a rearranged timetable.
I wonder if I’ll talk to anyone today,
someone outside the household.
Hermit time makes the cogs turn,
wheel inwards and soar into fantasy
in which a hero overcomes all. 
What falls is ink on paper
and another jotting in the series
scalds the marks of the journey.
So now the difficult bit,
getting on with life
and doing the ordinary.
I message:
“is anyone out there”

							533 27-05-2026

I make breakfast and then retreat to the sofa to type up my poem and draft the blog while I wait for the oncologist to call. At 13:00 ” he who made a pact with the devil” calls. He asks how I am, how my bowels are, how my numb hands are and explains the options. He says that he cannot predict which of three groups I will fall into regarding PSA rise. One group goes for 12 months, one group goes for fourth months and one just rises. I was given the option of resting, quitting or carrying on. In essence it was up to me. I chose to go for cycle 8 this Friday on a reduced dose to see if the PSA will come down any further. If it does great and cycle 9 is a possibility, if it doesn’t then there is no point in going on with the rechallenge and I have to consider the possibility of a sister drug. Same family, same side effects! Maybe worth a go. So my dye is cast, back to pre chemo steroids tomorrow.

To celebrate my partner and I go for a bacon roll and a drink in the local garden centre. We chat about some of the issues but my partners mother and other things as we enjoy our rolls. Having enjoyed our break we walk through the till and pay for three bags of compost. While I collect the car my partner collects a member of staff to load the compost into the boot of the car. We drive home and I head for the sofa and the Paris Open to watch Djokovic struggle in the heat against a Frenchman. I’m not a great fan of Djokovic but I am now always drawn to the veteran players, I always root for the elder player. We older folk need to stick together. As Djokovic looses the third set, I loose interest as it means the match will drag on for ages and my attention will never last out that long. I think there should be a time limit on tennis matches. Once it gets to two and a half hours whoever is ahead should win. I read review articles about chemo rechallenge, specifically for prostate cancer. It seems all the reviews show that the current studies and trails show that is you responded well to the chemo (specifically Doxetaxel) the first time then there was a reasonable chance you would respond well in the rechallenge. My PSA has reduced by at east 50% so far. The related relapse time ranged from approximately 12 months to 50 months. I suspect the 50 months may well be an outlying result due to some specific elements of the particular study, but one can hope. Djokovic wins in four sets in 3 hours 50 minutes. A victory for age.

The evening rolls in. I water the sunflowers and eat tea before intending to watching another European football final. This time its Crystal Palace that is going for a trophy. I shall watch and go to bed knowing that I need to start my pre chemo steroids in the morning.