Wednesday the 22nd of December. I get up and make myself muesli and coffee. As usual I check my emails and messages. I do a bit of Goole research and then get ready to drive to the hospital to collect my new drugs. The drive was fine apart from my SatNav taking me on some imaginative new variations on the normal route. However I get there and instantly recognise the place, especially the car park. Being a good citizen I went to the Pay and Display to get a ticket. FUCKING COIN ONLY! What organisation in this day and aged of advanced IT has coin only parking machines, the nhs thats who. I grumpily go to reception and ask directions to the pharmacy, who kindly send me off on a long jaunt. The pharmacists was not the cheeriest but delivered the neat little packet with my name on it.

I get home and put my new drugs into my drugs wallet for the coming week. The big decision was whether to put them into the night or day section of my dispenser. The pill has to be taken once a day at the same time. I pick the night section. In my head I decide that I would rather take them at night. I will risk them disturbing my nights, which are already disturbed. A friend suggests that I wait till after Christmas to start the new drugs, I understand the logic and the sentiment but when I think about it my rising PSA is a reminder that cancer never rests, is relentless, does not take time out. Having decided to go for the new drug now it seems illogical to delay starting, I cannot wait, cancer is not. Having sorted that I have soup for lunch and get my kit ready to go to the gym.

I drive to the gym and find myself a cross trainer. I set Rammstein to loud and get on with the session. It goes well, very well in fact as I achieve a personal best. 735 calories and 8.75 kilometres at level 11. Go me, this was unexpected. I have a shower and have already decided to reward myself with a large americano and an after eight muffin. This hope was dashed as the club bar was closed. Yet again they have not got the staff to open it. Its shit service and symptomatic of the job market at this time. For the second time today I grumpily go back to my car and drive home. I find there is a paper so settle down to do the crosswords until dinner is ready when we all sit down to the meal. As a family we are looking forward to the Celebrity Great British Sewing Bee and post meal camp in the lounge to watch. The winner produces a Dior type best garment but then his mum is a couturier designer and had advised him on the choice of pattern to use. Had he really never sewn anything before? Call me cynical but I have some doubts.

Against the background of the last episode of The Girl Before, where the message seems to be white blokes are shit, I start to write the blog. I’ve decided to change the header as this feels like a new period in my challenge. Undoubtedly this is a new phase with a fresh aim and that is the re reduction of my PSA levels. Its going to last at least for two months to the next oncology review and then maybe for a further period. It therefore seems appropriate to acknowledge this and change the blog heading. If all goes well and my PSA does drop then perhaps I can go to As Good As it Gets Phase III. It remains to be seen. Its coming up to 11 o’clock, which is the time I’ve decided to set as my evening drug time. Previously I just took my evening meds at whatever time I decide to crawl of to bed but with the introduction of the Bicalutamide there needs to be a constant time. So I shall take my first dose in a few minutes and then potter about for a while before taking myself off to bed. My intention is to train again tomorrow, so lets hope there is no nasty fast onset of side effects. I would be lying if I said I was not anxious, I am. Into the dark.