Friday and I am up early to go to the GP for my pre oncology review bloods. I have a hot water, grab my bloods form and go to the surgery. I explain what’s happening to me to the nurse and jokingly ask for a good set of bloods. She is a quick and painless as usual and I and I am soon walking to the co-op to get a paper. Once home I find “Bob” the tile grouting the office floor. I make myself breakfast and settle down to do the days crossword. I read for a bit until “Bob” finished the grouting, when I paid him and went on his way once he had give advice about grouting our bathroom tiles. At this point my partner went to the gym.

I set about getting the office door to close. I tightened the door hinges and sanded the bottom of the door until the door closed properly, another small household chore done. With the tools put away I recycled some boxes and once again settled down to read. By mid afternoon I finished I Am Legend. A friend rings me and we have time to chat for a while. It was good having time and being able to catch up. With my partner back from the gym I have a sandwich and make sure my blood results sheet is ready. The prostate nurse rings me back. She has seen my results and shown them to my oncologist who refers the results to urology consultant, who is not replying to the nurse. She tells me that my results are “not terrible, she has seen worse” but will not go into detail. She said her plan was to get the urologist to see the result and if necessary “get me in”, but he had not responded to her. “getting me in”, which I assume meant getting me in to hospital, which was news to me and came as a big surprise to me. So she could not tell me what was going to happen. She said she would ring if she found anything out. So I am left hanging not knowing what is going on. I try to be calm and reasonable and agree that if I do not hear anything its probably okay. But who knows.

A little later I get another call, it is the prostate cancer nurse. The urology consultant and the oncologist have decided that “less is best”, god knows what that means. The reality is that the oncologist wants me to have another blood test on Tuesday before I see him on Wednesday. So I shall be Ubering to and from the hospital on Tuesday. I guess I have to suck this up and get on with it. The fly in the appointment is that this is a pre 28 day injection weekend so when I go for the bloods I shall be in the midst of recovering from my jab. It seems that I am in for a shit week. The decisions about my continuing prostate treatment have to be made as my PSA is rising and I have had steroids added to my current meds but this review was going to look at the possibility of radiotherapy. I’ve no idea how that can take place now. I have no idea what the urology boys and girls will want to do with me. Life is going to be interesting.

With all of that out of the way I eat tea, draft the blog and try to look forward to a weekend of rugby and not doing much but relax and look after myself.

Thursday and I wake up feeling like crap, I am not sure why but I do. I check my vitals and find they are okay. My partner brings me hot water and then it is clear I’m feeling off, some toast. “Bob” the tiler arrives while I am still in bed and gets on with laying the new tiles in the study I eventually get up and try to get organised. I walk over to the post office and send a book to the new address I have for a local newspaper. Another piece of vanity, I’m not sure what I expect to happen, but while there I buy Lucozade and a paper. When I return the tiler is cracking on, so I send a couple of emails to see if I can recover the original manuscript and cover files that were sent for publication by KDP as I need them for the American distributor Ingram Spark.

The tiler listens to his loud radio as he works so my partner and I decide to go out for lunch , of course we go to the garden centre and cannot resist buying more winter pansies to go into the pots and the garden. On our return the tiler is still at it but getting to the end so I sit and fill my drugs dosettes. In theory I am good for the next two weeks. As the tiler packs up and goes, to return tomorrow to do the grouting and finish off, my partner and I load Elsie (new car) with the bags of old tiles and drive off to the recycling centre. Its a short trip but successful but allows me to test out the volume control on the Satnav. I now have it on a level e that is loud so it cannot be ignored.

I get home and do the days crosswords and then out of the blue the prostate nurse calls me. Apparently my soft tissue scan has revealed an enlarged right kidney, which might be bad! She asks if I can get a blood test, so I tell her I am having one tomorrow. She gets me to check the form to ensure the relevant tests will be done. She takes me through the crucial scores, eGFR and potassium alongside the creatine and of course Urea and provides the ranges that I should be looking. It’s a conversation full of contradictions, I must seek help if I am above on certain things but I’m not to worry I might be perfectly fine even if I am out of range. She will ring me tomorrow by about 4:30 to see how I am. She might get the result more quickly than me, I will get them after midnight. So now I have something else to keep my attention sharp. I was just worried about my PSA, apparently now I need to be concerned about my kidneys, which given what happened to me in Jamaica in 2019 when my kidneys failed on me is more than a little perturbing. The call ends, I go for a piss, grab a bottle of water and draft the blog.

I doubt my evening is going to be very joyous, I just need to eat, drink water, do mindless things and go to bed so I can be up early tomorrow to go for my blood test. Inside I just scream.

Wednesday and I wake early after a reasonable nights sleep. Today “Bob” the tiler is due to arrive early so I take my vitals, which are good, and get up and dressed ready to make tea and engage in worker talk. I have my meds and clear the office so I can sweep the floor ready for its first coat of waterproofing. I have just about finished and waved my partner off to see her mother when “Bob” arrives. Tea is made, because every knows British work folk do not function with out tea, its part of being British. “Bob” sets to work on putting down the first layer of sealant. Its going to take two hour for it to dry, so “Bob” bobs off while it dries and says he will be back with the leveller in a couple of hours. If all goes to plan ( It won’t, when does it ever go to plan?) he should be back tomorrow to lay the tiles. I have breakfast and start to draft the blog before setting about the rest of my day. I check to see if anything has happened on the new poetry website that is being constructed for me but I find that nothing has been done, I fear that my web builder is not over her COVID yet.

“Bob” returns about 3 o’clock to put the leveler compound down in the office. It doesn’t take long and will dry over night meaning he can come back early tomorrow morning and lay the tiles. So far all is going well on this project. When “Bob” leaves I go for a shower and get ready for my evening out to see Vincent Simone’s Argentine Tango show. My partner drives us to the venue and I note how few people are in the bar. When we go into the auditorium it is only 70% full, clearly Tango is not Loughborough’s favourite firework night entertainment. The show itself was good and I managed not to succumb to the temptation of ice cream. Once home there were meds to take and then bed. My next and I think crucial set of bloods is due on Friday so apart from getting cranky I need to drink a lot of water, its all I think I can do apart from training.

Tuesday and its up in the morning after a reasonable nights sleep, but not before a hot water and taking my vitals, which were okay, not great but they will do. I weigh myself as I had no opportunity over the weekend, being away. To my surprise and relief I weighed in at 99.9 kilos, anything under 100 kilos is a win these days with the introduction of steroids into my medications. So I climb into my training kit, because at soem point I will train and I cannot be doing with changing clothes all the time to do different things. I make my go to breakfast of fried egg sandwich and fruit juice and get my drugs down me.

Normally at this point I would train, there is the dishwasher to unpack and reload followed today by the need to retether the cover on the garden swing seat. Armed with strong cord and a mallet I get into the garden and get it sorted. While on a roll I open the cold frames and fill the bird and squirrel feeders. With nothing else to do in the garden its time to sort the laundry out, so I juggle what’s been left in the machines so that I can get my stuff underway. That’s it I think, its time to train and just as I am about to head for the garage and the rower the window cleaners arrive who as fortune would have it are also going to clear the gutters today. I watch them up their ladders and see how much stuff comes out of the gutters and ends up in the garden recycling bins. It would appear that I’ve made a lot of Ladybirds homeless. Finally the happy crew drive off and do the BACS thing to pay them. At last I can train train but not before I start todays blog and empty one laundry machine into another. Such is domestic bliss.

I eventually get to go into the garage and get myself set up on the rower. I decide to go for a 45 minute session as the day has moved on. I am in a full track suit to keep warm and I soon regret that decision. It is hard work and when I get to the 30 minute mark I am well behind my standard and feeling very tired. I try to push on and slowly I recover time and distance and by the time I get to the last 5 minutes I can see I might have a chance of making 9 kilometres. With one last push I make my goal, dripping sweat and knackered. Go me, this is the graft no one sees that earns me a better quality of life than those who cannot make this effort. Whatever it is in me that gets me to do this it is a strength.

I record my session in my journal and rest for a bit before going into the garden and closing up the cold frame lids. The tiler calls and we arrange for him to come tomorrow to start the preparation for the office floor. I get out of my training kit and then settle down to watch football on TV, eat tea and eventually watch the final of The Great British Bake Off, then back to the football. With TV over I take my meds, finish the blog and put the bins out. I go to bed knowing I have to be up to let “Bob” the tiler in to get on with the work. I’ve two more days before my next bloods which means I need to drink a lot of water so a new bottle of water goes to bed with me tonight.

I’ve been away for a long weekend but not before I went for a full bone scan on Thursday. It was one of those where I got filled with radioactive marker and then had to amuse myself for two hours before slipping into the magic magnetic tube to be scanned. I read I Am Legend which is truly excellent. My scan did not take long, or at least it did not see long but I suspect I might have napped for a while. My evening was all about packing and getting ready to drive to the Forest of Dean on Friday to see my youngest daughter who is growing a new grandson and to see my youngest grand child.

Friday was all about driving. Elsie is still a bit of a mystery at times but in general I think I have mastered most of the tech and where to find the right buttons to push. I am still disconcerted by the fact that it will show me a mileage and that it will increase once I get under way. There is a sweet speed that gives me the best miles per gallon which is most easily achieved on a long run. So once loaded up I drive to our destination with just one stop. I managed to do the drive without resorting to wine gums or Red Bull. Once arrived we got to meet the youngest grandchild who now has a much bigger vocabulary and an ability to pick up new ones at a swift pace. It also turns out that he is a great fan of Cherry Bomb by the Runaways. He has moved on from Timmy Trumpet and all the usual children’s songs, not to mention tunes from children’s TV programmes.

So by the end of the weekend we were all good at the Cherry Bomb dance led by the young man. It seems he has left Timmy Trumpet behind. Of course there were photo opportunities of him looking very cute, whether it was of home tucked up under my arm watching the Gruffalo with, sitting on a huge polar bear or making sure he got his share of hot chocolate. As he gets older I get increasingly wary of putting his picture up on the web, I’m not quite sure if this is an over reaction or not. I suspect in years to come he will be using social media as a matter of course but I do not feel comfortable putting him there now. Its one thing to share pictures with family and friends but the web is, I think, very different. Those of you who know me will of course know you can get pictures via the family WhatsApp group. One other gain from the weekend was the chance to increase the collection of Christmas tree ornaments. I like glass droplets so I bought two sets for this years tree.

So Monday arrives and its time to have breakfast and leave for home. With on last family dance to Cherry Bomb I load the car and drive my partner and I home in time to receive the Tesco delivery. My partner readies herself for her singing lesson tonight and my eldest daughter is off out to her art class, which leaves me to unpack and pick a film of my choice. All of this time is ordinary family stuff, which of course is far from ordinary.

This is a week that will seem me have a set of bloods before my next oncology review. The new scans are behind me now so it will all come together on Wednesday the 12th. The logic is of course in the arithmetic and overarching it all is the PSA score. I would be happy to continue with the steroids if the PSA is stable but if it is not the oncology boys and girls will want to test radio therapy on me and that I am not sure about. If I was not suitable some months back because of the risk of doing me more damage I am not sure the logic could support reversing that decision. So I have a sense that I may have to argue my corner. The last bone scan showed that my metastasis in my back and lymph had gone, I am hoping his bone scan confirms this. The CT scan of the soft tissue of my thorax and abdomen is the critical one as it should show the actual state of my prostate. I think this is the key. Either the cancer in my prostate is “contained” or its better or worse and this is the answer I need on the 12th. I do not want to hear what the oncology team have decided I want proper consultation and the evidence given to me so that I can make any decision that might be necessary. I guess this is why I am feeling fatigued and restless at the moment. All I can do is train tomorrow, keep active and keep recording my vitals and staying calm but focused.

Wednesday and I surface slowly having got to bed late last night. I take my vitals, all good, and then make breakfast. I have got into my training kit so after a while I go to the garage and set myself up for a 30 minute row. I try to start with a good pace and to my surprise I am able to keep it going.

I record the session in my journal and then shower. I while away time until its time to go for my scan. As I am putting the directions in to the Satnav a member of the publishers Ruler’s Wit arrived and collected 10 copies of Man to Man for an event on Saturday.

The scan took place in a nice new diagnosis centre at a local hospital. It was quick and efficient. It was a thorax and abdomen scan so I ended up with a cannula in my arm so they could pump a contrast dye into me. It was over very quickly and I was soon driving home to tea, football and a series. So the evening passes, take my meds and crawl off to be knackered. Tomorrow I have my nails done and then its another scan, the radiation one. Deep joy.

Tuesday and after a reasonable night’s sleep I wake up and take my vitals before getting up and having breakfast. There is time to trim my beard before m partner goes off to meet a friend for lunch. I set about finishing the mending I undertook on a broken holiday reminder we brought back from Greece. It took a while to grind off the excess glue that had leached through the material from back to front and taken up the print from the paper it was on. An unexpected outcome to my efforts to mend the plaque of faces. It takes a long time to slowly grind off the excess glue using my etching machine fitted with a small grind stone. Eventually I get it finished and replace it back on its spot at the head of the stairs.

Just as I finished and clear away my eagerly awaited parcel from Some Like it Holy arrives. I open the box and like what I see, but will it fit me. I am desperate for something other than jeans to wear and tonight I am going out so I hope the clothes fit me. I get them unpacked and start trying them on. The trousers need a minor adjustment and the braces attached, yes braces, they are replica vintage 1930’s Oxford bags, likewise the double breasted matching waist coat needs a small adjustment to the back strap, but once all this is done I pop them on. They fit and I am very happy. I take a photo, obviously tonight I shall wear a shirt with them and a pair of baroque shoes.

With all the clothing adjustments made I return to a late lunch and the start of drafting the days blog. The late afternoon is almost upon me when my partner returns. I prepare to hand over some copies of my book to my publishers who are going to an event this weekend and want some to take with them. It will then be a drift towards an evening in Loughborough to see Fascinating Aida, one of my favourite acts. So I am hoping to have an evening of joy without having wine spilt on me or some weirdo woman picking on one of my family, or me. It is my relaxation day before I start two days of having my nails done and two scans. The end of the week is going to be all go and heavy on energy spoons. Before I stop drafting a poem comes to me:

471
I look up,
there is blue sky,
a few clouds,
and I am shocked.
It is as if I had forgotten,
the vastness,
that quality of light.
All I had to do was
look up.
I know that this is 
what I want
my poetry 
to feel like.
The gap between 
sky and words
insurmountable,
between me and 
your soul
impossible. 

					471 28-10-2025

Monday and I am slow to wake up having slept heavily, however I take my vitals, which are okay but not brilliant, before getting on the phone to book my next 28 day jab and my next set of hospital bloods. With that out of the way I get into my training gear, adding the tracksuit bottoms as its going to be cold in the garage today. I go to the fridge to get eggs for my breakfast sandwich and find none, and then promptly over toast the last bagel resulting in a more crunchy bagel than I had planned for. With my meds taken I attend to some more live admin and then its time to go and row, my partner having gone to the gym for a bobbing bout in the water class.

The garage is cold, I have a headache for which I have downed paracetamol and I am not feeling any enthusiasm for the session, but I set an hours session to do. Sometimes I just have to suck it up and get on with it. The session is a slow slog as I listen to one of Radio three’s chill out sessions, it gets me through the session but my row is up not to par falling just short of twelve kilometres but the calories burn is acceptable.

I recorded the session and then take a shower and wash my hair once I am able to get the bead out of the end of my hair, but I get there in the end. It always feels so good to shower after a session. I return to the lounge where I find the tile delivery I was expecting has been made. They are propped up in the porch so I bring them in and stack them near the office where they will be eventually laid. I send a nudging message to the tiler and then start to draft the blog. It works as he rings me back quickly and we agree a timetable for him to come and do the floor preparation and the tile laying. So by the end of the first week of November we should be there. Another project done and dusted.

By five o’clock I am drafting the blog while my partner makes tea prior to her singing lesson. It will be a lazy night for me until Tesco deliver later on and then I am heading for bed before the start of a busy three days before going away at the weekend to see my youngest daughter and her ever growing bump with my youngest grandson. I have something bubbling away inside at the moment prompted by looking up at the sky the other day but I cannot get it to fall to the page yet, I shall have to be patient until whatever it is is ready, but I feel it strongly trying to find a way out.

Saturday and it is a lazy awaking as I take my vitals, all okay, and think about what I am going to do. There are some basic chores to be done and a lot of rugby to be watched. I keep an eye on the mail hoping that my new “going out” clothes might arrive, but alas they do not show up. So the day gets swallowed up with life admin and very quickly the family are eating an early tea prior to going out for the evening. My partner drives myself and our eldest daughter to the local theatre to see Fisherman’s Friends.

The theatre for forum and bars were full it was clear that it was going to be a full house. Once the auditorium doors are open people just escape to the auditorium. We find our seats, which are three on the end of a row and clearly mistime our entry as there is no one in the row as we sit. There is a continuing filling of the auditorium and of course we do the “uppy downy” dance as the rest of the row fills up.

Eventually everyone is in and Fisherman’s Friends get on with the show, but not before the trio behind me manage to spill a glass of red wine over my fleece jacket that I have tucked under my seat. The woman had the decency to tell me and offer me tissues, but my jacket sleeve and shoulder was drenched in a foul smelling red wine. The woman continues to apologies but what can you say to someone who has brought her elderly father, who is obviously not all there, out for a treat. The show goes on and the interval is reached. We go out for the break where I join the huge queue for a pee. This theatre has so few toilets that every time we visit there is always long queues for the toilets which is a real down side for people like me managing anything to do with a dodgy prostate. Its a challenge to my Will power to refuse an ice cream but I make it into the second half of the show.

The Fisherman’s Friends were good at what they did and of course saved their most popular songs till last. With the end of the last song large numbers of the audience around us just legged it for the exit. as a family we tend to let the rush go and take our time but this time a women starts having a go at my eldest daughter saying things about her enjoyment being ruined by my eldest daughter phone and filming the show, neither of which my eldest daughter was doing. Despite my daughters denials this woman continued to harass my daughter at which point I slipped in to “don’t fuck with my daughter” and told the woman to leave my daughter alone,, she ignored me so I repeated myself and got between them. We left and the woman turned round to follow us out, I ushered my crew out and left the woman complaining to the poor theatre usher as she continued on with whatever her issue was. There was something wrong about the whole thing that made me wary of what the underlying issue might actually be.

We loaded into the car and edged our way out of the car park and made our way home, where I settled down to watch football and the family went off to bed. I took my night meds and finally went to bed.

Sunday and I have missed the fact that the clocks have gone back an hour. I make warm drinks for my partner and I before taking my vitals. My vitals are better than I expected, which is good. I get up to breakfast cooked by my partner and we sit and watch the Strictly that we missed last night while we were out. The day is a drift, my partner continues to sew her latest project and I continue to have conversations about the development of a new website. With that out of the way my partner asks me to mend the ear on her elephant mug. This is an interesting challenge as the bits are small and need careful placement. With all the available pieces in place it becomes apparent that a small chip is missing. I have nothing to model the missing chip in so I decide to colour the thin white edges that have been left. Eventually I am done and return the mug to its kitchen shelf space. Much of this time I have the radio football coverage in my ears, and continue to have as I start to draft the blog. This evening there will of course be tea and the Strictly results show. I have organised my daily food and training journal and what I need to do this coming week. The highlights are two scans in readiness for my next oncology review on the 12th of November. It will be a watershed moment. Alongside the scans there are drugs to be ordered and bloods to be done, all of this punctuated by a night out to see Fascinating Aida and having my nails done. This all culminates in the drive down to spend the weekend with my youngest daughter. I am hoping that my spoons of energy see me through. In there somewhere I am hoping a tiler will reappear to finish the office floor. It never ends.

Friday and I wake up in a strange state after last nights late night, but I do surface sufficiently to do my vitals and hold a sensible conversation with my partner. My partner goes off to the gym for more “bobbing about in the water” while I have a breakfast and my morning meds. I send a few messages and leave a few for people regarding my clothing order but then it is time to train. I go to the garage and stare at the monitor, for the first time in a long time the temperature has dropped below 10 degree. I decide a short sharp 30 minute session is all I can manage today, so I set myself up and get going at a reasonable pace. By the end of time I have gone through my 6 kilometre standard and feeling drained.

I rowed the majority of the session to Augustin Hadelich playing Mendelssohn’s violin concerto number 2 in E, which was very pleasant and helped keep me rowing a good pace. It was a BBC 3 concert. When he finished he came out and to my surprise he played Orange Blossom Special and old Blue Grass tune that I first heard played by Flatt and Scruggs back in the sixties. There was a time I could play the opening on the guitar so hearing a world class violinist go for it as an encore was surprising. The contrast between the two is amazing. I give you both versions below. Listen and be amazed.

I get a call from the clothing merchant in response to my enquiry abut my order and it appears the Amazon server failure has affected the payment so I go back into my account and redo the order. This time money comes out of my account and everything goes through. By this time my partner is back from the gym and after a brief lunch we go to the garden centre to ensure that we have food for the weekend. It is throwing it down with rain so it is a quick dash there and back ending in a sit on the sofa and a recovery nap.

The evening rolls in, I change a light bulb and then start to draft the blog before a Pizza tea and a TV rugby match. I am tired and take my meds and get to bed looking forward to tomorrows treat of a visit to the theatre to see Fisherman’s Friend, which hopefully will be a jolly night.