Thursday and after a strange in and out night I wake and take my vitals, which are okay. I check my messages and the news before getting up and into my training gear. I’m soon strapped onto the rower and pulling away. At this stage of the game the goal has to be complete the 30 minutes and then get over the 5K mark. At the moment my best since restarting to row is 5,400 metres. Today I do finish and I do get over 5K but fall short of the additional 400m.

I have breakfast and deal with the post. At last the date for my scan has come through, so on September the 10th I will be laying around having contrasting dye pumped into me. So that is some fun to look forward. I go to have a shower and find that our water pressure is down so I go to use the tank fed one down stairs. There is a delay while I scrub it out and then finally get to have my shower. Wrapped in towels I sit on the patio and chat to my partner and watch a woodpigeon build a nest in the hedge by the patio. Once dressed I return to the patio to tidy my beard and write the last poem for the next collection.

412
I’d like to write an epistle
but it’s not really me,
I’m more known for bony stuff
without tittles, just a curator’s number.
But somewhere in there is a cloud,
a swirling entanglement of events
that brings me to this fatigue. 
Five and a half years of cancer,
five years of blogging every day,
a DVT along the way
and then a bladder stone has a say.
Now the cardiac boys and girls
Are chipping in with scans
and medication I refuse to take;
I cannot bear the headache,
and all along the battles rages
as I cling to reason and sensibleness,
which amounts to denial, 
a life style of “not”
and very little “do”
until this damn fatigue overwhelms.
I’ve no testosterone to drive me,
no flushing chemical to stiffen
the sinews and summon the blood.
This greyhound falls asleep in the slips
only to cry out “what’s for tea”	
and write breathless poetry.

                                                                               412 29-08-2024

Apologies to Shakespeare for nicking a bit to Henry IV Agincourt speech, it just seemed apt. As the para Olympics gets under way with Brits falling off their bikes I start to draft the blog. Not many people bother with it now but as I move towards the fifth anniversary it is something that I will doubtlessly continue just to keep track of things and have for people to check in on.

I arrive to the evening via a chance finding on the drive. I go to put the recycling out and there on the drive is a letter addressed to me. When I open it I find a letter from a friend. It is a delicious surprise. The evening is all fatigue and TV before I take my meds, round off the blog and finally go to bed in the hope of sleep.