Wednesday, bin day. Breakfast of muesli and then some bed stripping, laundering , hanging out, tidying, bedclothes changing, ordering drugs, booking Mondays jab appointment and doing a bit of admin work. So by lunch time there was still training to be done and some tidying before our guest arrived. Frankly I’d had enough so I went to the club to drink a quiet cup of coffee and do a bit of google research. I decided that the Bond movie at three hours long was an ideal afternoon escape so I strolled over to the Vue cinema and indulged in a reasonable film and a packet of fruit pastilles.

I was quite pleased, given my condition, that I managed the film with a single piss and that “excuse me, sorry” shuffle down the row. Film over and everyone dead ready for an 007 reset I decided to eat out as well and made my way to Frankie and Bennies as the decent Italian could not give me a table for an hour. Frankie and Bennies has taken down all its signature photos and covered the walls in bland non COVID harbouring paper. Its even more soulless than it was before. The bruschetta was okay but they had no macaroni cheese. I selected Spaghetti Bolognese as an alternative, a poor choice as the sauce was insipid and tasteless. I tried to end on a high by choosing the exciting sounding Tolberone cheesecake, another mistake but at least the black americano was hot. I also discovered that this week is dyslexia week, my week! This invaluable piece of info came via LinkedIn, I see no evidence that it is recognised anywhere else. Perhaps I should wear a badge with some bollocks about a hidden disability along with one that says I’m dying of cancer and see if anyone notices or which one they think is more notable. I pay my bill and drive home via the garage to top my tank. I seem to put a lot into the tank but my mileage calculator in the car does not seem to go up very much, I am suspicious.

I think there are tipping points in the experience of cancer, today was one of them or at least raised the issue of there being tipping points. I realised to day that there are two distinct positions with this diagnosis. You either fight to stay alive, e.g exercise, diet, research, stay informed, stay engaged with the world and continue to try and make meaning of life and ones personal internal universe or you settle for dying in as peaceful and quiet way as possible. In short you quit because it does not make sense to go on doing all the other things that give you the allusion of agency and purpose. I think the divide between the two is subtle and very fragile as time goes on. Those moments when the aggregation of the worlds aggravations coalesce to raise the issue of a tipping point are unpredictable and certainly caught me unawares. It is something I need to learn, to recognise and to be clear about. On the other hand my life is now too short to be taking any more shit than I need to.

I get home and retreat to the peace and quite of the bedroom to write the blog and reflect on the day. Tomorrow I have work and my first visit to a chiropodist to sort out my chemo thickened big toe nails. Now life does not come any more prosaic than that.