Saturday was a ridiculous screen day as I managed to watch the following:

• Two women’s world cup football matches (England beat Columba 2-1)
• One rugby league challenge cup final
• One international rugby game. (England beat Wales)
• The entire 3rd series of Strike
• Half of Highlander.

Somewhere in that I also went shopping at the garden centre for food and eat meals. No wonder I was too knackered to write a blog on the day. I just took my night meds and fell into bed with a sense of delicious decadency at having used a day in such a way but then hey I’m retired so why not, I do not have to be productive any more, although I did clear the kitchen and put the dishwasher on before crashing into bed, so I consider that my contribution for the day.

Sunday I wake up to my partner bringing me a decaf coffee. I weigh myself before drinking it and find although I have put on weight I have not crashed through the obese, fat bastard barrier of 98 kilos, I shade it at 97.8 kilos. My partner and I chat and then we ready ourselves for the gym. She is going to train and I am going for a change of scenery and a hot chocolate. I’ve also decided to radically reduce my screen time as yesterday was way too much for me, I shall read instead and confine my screen time to the blog and perhaps a little evening TV. At the gym my partner disappears off to the changing rooms and I settle down with a book, but my brain pixies interrupt me and I find myself writing two poems. I do not know where this stuff comes from. Clearly its from my head, I do not fish them out of some sort of ethereal ether but I’ve no understanding of the why and when questions that arise. Any way I set aside my reading and pick up my current journal/note book and begin to scribble. It is always the same I have no conscious idea of what’s coming but clearly my unconscious decides its time to dump whatever its been work on and out it pops from the end of my pen. Apparently on this occasion it was time for me to confront my waistline. This is what the result was.

Its time, 
to say farewell,
bite the bullet
and concede to the scythe
like the inevitable harvest.
I yield.
Carefully I select
the items
and with them the memories.
With each comes stitched
in remembrances.
Each pair a transitional item
that will be jettisoned,
recycled or forgotten.
This is reality confrontation
at a brutal level, 
a mirror that wont be denied
and is now avoided.
I'm never going to to be the same 
and gone is the possibility.
I am beyond any clever fix
My waist will never again be 36.

Well this was a bit of a surprise even though I had been recently contemplating storage issues around the number of ice hockey shirts I have acquired. I write another more dark piece but that can wait for another day. My partner re-joins me and we have coffee before returning home.

Once home I decide I can no longer put off training, I’ve been feeling shit lately and I know the only way to lift it is to physically exercise. Its not rocket science or therapy, it just how it is. If I do not train I do not counteract the side effects of the chemo and I do get the endorphin lift that I need either. Its been 17 days since I trained for fear of pissing blood after training so today will be the gentlest I can manage. I set myself up on the rower and select thirty minutes at my low level and set off. I am desperate to earn PSI points on my fitness App as I have not been above 100 for days and my fitness age has crashed from 41 to 52 in this short time. Everything screams decline despite all the other arithmetic saying I am doing well. So for half an hour I gently row. I still get hot and sweaty and elevate my heart rate but I am not going to reach my normal levels. I know that and I am content with that. By the end I’ve done a session at about 80% effort adn still go over 5 kilometres and 300+ calories. That will do me today.

I change and do my vitals as I listen to the radio on my ear buds until I feel recovered. At this point art leads to life and I take out all the waist size 36 trousers from my wardrobe space and rearrange my ice hockey jerseys. What I am left with is a strange collection of leg wear. Two pairs of jeans, 2 pairs of burgundy trousers, a bright yellow pair of golf trousers and a pair of brown herring bone Oxford bags. I guess I might be shopping in the not so distant future. I have to admit the yellow golf trousers are a bit bright even for me, where was my head when I bought them I wonder. I have just about finished this adventure when I am told my youngest daughter is face timing us. Before going to join the call I go for a pee and to my relief there is no sign of blood, I cannot express what a relief that is. I join the conversation and it is clear from the off that my youngest daughter is knackered and just wants to rest so I keep the conversation short and let her get the rest she needs. As I am back on the sofa I start to draft the blog, it already feels that I’ve spent too long looking at a screen evening.

My evening meanders towards its conclusion, mostly screens and then my night meds. Today was a reasonable start, lets see what tomorrow brings.

Friday and I wake early for no particular reason and I am brought a decaf coffee by my partner who has got up for work. I do my usual routine of checking emails and messages and then get up for toast. A women’s world cup quarter final is on, Sweden v Japan, which Sweden win 2-1 in normal time. While the game is on I refill my drugs wallets for the next two weeks. I cannot add my next chemo cycle until next Tuesday when I will pick them up from the hospital pharmacy. I also mend my partner’s mothers watch as the strap had come adrift. After the match I clear the kitchen, take and record my vitals and get ready to go out to lunch to meet old colleagues including one who is home from Bermuda for a few days. For once it is sunny, so I am hopeful for a pleasant afternoon.

My expectations have been fully met by this afternoons leisurely lunch. As on one of my friends pointed out I was the only English person there, the rest being Italian, Welsh, Argentinian and Nigerian. The lunch took at least four hours to complete, a lovely mixture of good food, company and conversation. My Nigerian friend flies back to Bermuda tomorrow so it was good to have the chance to chat to to him about the future and family before he returns. As always he had stories to tell of his travels which made us laugh. There is too little of this in life. Long lazy meals with friends are real treasures. Of course we argued over issues but that is what lively, bright people do.

I drive home in time for a light tea and chat before doing my vitals and settling down to a quiet evening of Fat and Furious, some digit between 1 and 200. It’s just wallpaper to drafting the blog, taking meds and going to bed. Tomorrow is a big day, England play Colombia in the quarter final of the world cup. The taster before is Australia (hosts) v France so it will be an exhausting morning. It could be a demanding day as there are two rugby league finals and and international rugby match to watch, not to mention the first Match of the Day highlights programme of the first week of the football season. I am hoping that the saturation will see me training again on Sunday.

Its Thursday, oncology review day. I am awake quite early and check my emails, messages and bank accounts. Once dressed its time for breakfast and to get organised for my 1 o’clock oncology review by phone. I update my excel spreadsheet for my vitals and get it to calculate my average blood pressure for this cycle of Chemo. 128 over 78 is a good average healthy blood pressure. I am satisfied with that. I take trip to the village shop and buy a paper, pastries and get cash from the ATM. Back home I do the crosswords and puzzles over a coffee and pastry out on the sunny patio.

My review time gets closer and my partner makes me a light lunch before the call comes through. He who made a pact with the devil rings on the landline at just past 1 o’clock. He tells me what I already know about my blood results, I fill in with my stat for the day, namely my PSA has fallen 74% since the 30th of May. We are both chuffed. I note that those things not in the normal range in my blood results are heading in the right direction. I tell him what my average blood pressure has been over his cycle, which seems to please him. He tells me that he will get the pharmacy to ring me when they have my next cycle and that he will ring me again in 4 weeks If everything is still tickety boo then he will prescribe my three cycles in one go and we will have a review after 12 weeks. By my reckoning that will take me close to Christmas, so there is a plan till the end of 2023. Roll on 2024.

All of this takes about two minutes maximum and then I am on the end of a dead phone. This must have been the faster consultation on record. I start to draft the blog, type up yesterdays poem and add it to my “All I Have” folder and then prepare to go to the Curve tonight to see Cirque, a singing musical and circus entertainment. Of course the issue is what to wear, but I will figure it out. Before the garden guy will arrive to tart up the garden, drink coffee and chat. So an uncharacteristically busy evening ahead of me and I still have my partners mother’s watch to mend.

The evening at the Curve theatre watching Cirque was great fun as I have never sat in the front row before next to the cold sparks generator and smoke machines. Smoke so thick at one point I have no idea what the guy with the anchor was doing. All in all it was good fun and included an ice cream. Because my partner had had the foresight to pay for the parking at reception we were able to get out of the car park quickly at the end. A smooth drive home, where we sat on the patio, dank fruit juice and ate Maltesers while reflecting on the show. I finished drafting the blog, took my meds, which are the last of this cycle. I collect my next cycle of drugs next Tuesday and the oncologist will review in four weeks time. If the next review goes well he will let me have three months worth, or three cycles to take up until Christmas. For now though it is time to sleep for tomorrow brings more world cup football but more importantly I shall be having lunch with a friend and old colleague who is in the country for a few days from Bermuda.

Wednesday and I wake late and realise there is no world cup football to watch. I have breakfast, take my meds, do my vitals and then head for the Shed in sunshine. I clean my inkwells and settle down to write a letter. Outside the Shed door the first Hibiscus bloom I’ve been able to grow flowers outside.

I finish my letter and then lunch with my partner before she goes off to see her mother. I return to the Shed and sit for a while until I write a poem. I close the Shed up and then take my letter to the post office after which I do small chores and wait for my partners return . When she does return we sit on the garden swing seat and talk over family business. We eat tea and I watch football in the evening. It has been the rest day I promised myself. I draft the blog and take my night drugs. Tomorrow is my oncology review so I shall rise early and prepare my data and my questions. The aim is another cycle of Chemo. Who would have thought that this would become a life ambition. Soon I will need to start to train and re-engage with the world.

Tuesday rocks up and I wake up to find my partner off to work. Real outside the home work which leaves a space on the drive. I have breakfast and watch th first half of a women’s world cup match. At half time I abandon the football and drive to see a friend to have hot chocolate and a chat. She is one of the people who helps to keep my brain fed with reading matter. to my surprise she produced a book for me. I am intrigued by it and I am already looking forward to getting into it. We chat and indulge in cheese scones and warm drinks.

My friends buys a birthday gift and we return to her house where I pick up my car and drive home. I am back in time to see the second half of the second women’s world cup match of the day. France thrash Morocco. I decide to walk down to the village shop and get a paper but when I get there they have sold out. Instead of going home I go to the village café and treat myself to a sausage and bacon baguette accompanied by a hot chocolate. While there I pick up flyers for what is going on in our local theatres and museums. I’m idling with what things I do in the future that will get me out and about again.

Back home I put the bins out and then settle down to read more of A Gentleman in Moscow. Time passes bye and my partner returns home from work. I do my vitals before tea and start to draft the blog whilst watching one of the last Harry Potter films. So I drift into the evening knowing that tomorrow is a free day before life gets busy with oncology reviews, drug pick ups, shows at a local theatre and a meal with friends. So I will use the day to rest before a burst of activity.

Monday, England play for a quarter final place in the World Cup. I am up just in time for a dish of muesli and decaf coffee before getting comfy on the sofa. What a let off for England. Down to ten players after James gets sent off for stamping on an opponent, they hang on for a goalless draw and then win on penalties after extra time. Nigerians just not good at penalties.

Australia up to beat Denmark next during which I clear the kitchen, put my washing in and get out of my leopard head wearable sofa blanket. I ease my way into lunch watching the match with my partner and starting to draft the blog. The Australians win 2-0. That’s my morning done. I go to the Shed and write a letter and note that the ink I am using is congealing and blocking up the nibs I am using. I am tempted to jettison the drawing ink I am using and use ordinary ink. I hang my washing out and then pop across to the post box and while there I pop into the shop and grab some treats for later. I return to the sofa and settle down to read more of A Gentleman in Moscow. It feels at the moment that my reading ability is getting better. I recline while I read until tea time. Tea over I return to reading until there is a flurry of activity, I bring my washing in, read some more and as my partner talks to our youngest I and my eldest bringing in the Tesco order. It appears getting eggs is no longer a problem. I start to daft the blog before the ritual Monday humiliation of not scoring a single point on Only Connect. I’m just fascinated by Victoria Corren Mitchell having been a professional poker player who won over two million at the tables.

The rest of my evening will is reading, glimpsing TV and finally night meds and bed. Its now seven days since I trained, I am trying to decide how long to rest for. Its not like I am an Olympic athlete or professional sportsperson but I did train almost daily and it is hard to stop even if I know it’s for my own good and even if the oncologist is at me to train at least 3 time a week. This is one of those times where I need to trust my instincts and to trust the logic in the arithmetic. I am getting shack fever a bit and need get out for a bit soon, I am hoping the forecast brighter weather is on its way.

Sunday and it’s weigh in day. I’m expecting to be gross (over 98 kilos) but it turns out I am just fat as I weigh in at 97.0 kilos, a loss over the last week of 1.3 kilos. So the day starts well. Its a lazy start for me with a croissant breakfast, decaf coffee and morning meds as I watch the Sweden v USA knockout game at the women’s world cup. It is the first game to go to penalties and against the run of play Sweden go through. I tidy up my little end of the sofa kingdom, partner goes to the gym and I start to draft the blog, or as friend pointed out the other day I “drat the blog”. Freudian slip, dyslexic moment or simple typo, I guess I’ll never know. Mostly I am avoiding training as I am anxious about doing any activity that will start me pissing blood again but I know that to keep myself fit and avoid the side effects of the chemo drugs I will have to do something soon. My fitness app is telling me clearly I am not up to scratch and my fitness age is rising. So while my PSA is reducing well, my vitals are normal and I am still functioning cognitively well it is difficult to know what is for the best. So far I have erred on the side of caution, stayed in, not exerted myself and rested as much as possible (thank god for women’s football, rugby, and the start of the men’s football season). I’ve lost confidence in my body, which has always, against the odds at times, healed or survived long enough to adapt and rebuild. So this is a tricky time. Its been ten days since I trained and I am getting twitchy. Today I shall not train but feed the squirrels, watch more football, men’s this time, and read, after all it is Sunday a day rest. I tell myself that this is being kind to myself but come Monday and the start of a new week I will need step back into the arena and take the risk of training again. Obviously gently to start with, after all I am not a moron or a psychopath.

My day is filled with football, food and before I find myself in the evening when reading fills the space. I take my night meds and retreat to bed.

Saturday and my blood results came in just before midnight last night. stayed up and made my results sheet up as I was eager to know how I am doing. The answer to that is according to the arithmetic I am doing well. Crucially my PSA has dropped to a level that it was 18 months ago. My platelet count is now in the normal range for the first time in ages. Even those elements that are outside the normal range are moving towards the normal range, so I should be looking good. Add to this that my vitals are normal with a monthly average blood pressure of 127 over 76, heart rate about 70, temperature a constant 36.2 and my oxygen saturation rate that averages 98% everything should be tickerty boo. Of course its not if I am passing blood when I exercise but the arithmetic says that I should be in a happy shiny place. The reality is that the side effects of fatigue due to the chemo drugs is a real drag. Psychologically its tricky to keep positive when feeling tired and I find myself avoiding making decisions and seeking increasingly periods of quiet rest and reflection.

I get up and make warm drinks for myself and my partner. I shall my latest result with her and wish a relative happy birthday before checking my messages adn emails. All that done its time to get back to the women’s world cup. I catch the tail end of Spain beating Switzerland 5-1. I go straight from that to the Japan v Denmark game. A good game that sees Japan come out 3-1 on top. These are nock out games to get into the quarterfinals so they have a real urgency about them. Both are good games. My partner and I eat bacon and sandwiches during the post match analysis. It appears that female pundits are as patchy as the male ones, no surprise really the agenda is the same, good television.

My partner does some pre gym ironing and then leaves me while I start to draft the blog. Having stayed up till 1am to do my results I am feeling a bit off so I am likely to take a nap soon before I try to find the coverage of the international rugby matches later this afternoon. It continues to rain and I realise I have no handy snacks or treats to see me through. I shall improvise.

My day is then full of rugby internationals, a bad film followed by When Harry Met Sally, which is a great film to end the day on. I take my meds and go to bed to read. I wont be up for the first world cup game tomorrow but I might catch a later one.

Friday I wake early to shower so as to arrive at the GP’s fresh and smelling sweet. I have time for a swift decaf coffee and morning meds adn then I am off to have my bloods taken. My GP system works really well and I am soon in chatting to the vampire, who is actually highly skilled. I clench my fist and slap my vein as she gets the vial ready and then its on with the tourniquet and in with the needle. In no time at all my two vials are filled and I am holding down the fluffy cloud on my arm while she labels my bloods. That done my fluffy cloud is taped down and I am released. My blood form has “PRE CHEM URGENT” written across it so I am hopeful that the results will be in just after midnight. I walk home via the village shop and get a paper. I contemplate breakfast at the village café but cannot face it so go directly home.

Once home I complete the cross word and puzzles before feeling up to muesli. There is no football to watch today so I idle for a while as my laptop reloads itself properly. There is nothing urgent to do so I wander over to the post box and send my latest letters. Task completed, I consider my rejection of the RACs exorbitant renewal fee and cast around for an alternative. I settle on Green Flag and cover both my and my partners cars for a relatively moderate sum. My partner and I have tuna sandwiches for lunch and then we go to the gym so that my partner can try out working from the club lounge on their WiFi. Before we leave I go for a pee and am disappointed and distressed to see blood in my urine. We drive to the gym where I settle down with my laptop and a book as my partner tries out the work laptop on the club WiFi. I spend a long time restarting my laptop and read while it takes a tediously long time to wind itself up. My partner’s experiment fails as her work fire wall will not let her through on the David Lloyd member network. She decides to go up to the gym floor to train for a while. I go to the loo and to my surprise there is no blood. It is becoming difficult to know what is triggering it. So for the moment I am relieved (no pun intended) and happier with life. While my partner trains I settle down to drat the blog. As I type I get messages from a friend on holiday who seems to be having a great time with her wife and children. It sounds like the sort of seaside holiday that the children will remember for a long time, as it is full of crabs and fossils and the exciting things to do. I down load my new Green Flag documents and all the other cyber paraphernalia that goes with it so now if anything goes wrong I can use my phone to summon help.

If I follow my usual habit my evening will be long as I wait for my PSA result to come in just after midnight. Here is hoping that at least there is good news here and I dip below 5.5.

STOP PRESS: The results are in. PSA down to 2.3 a drop of 3.1. Full results tomorrow.

Thursday and a glimmer of sunshine so I am into my shorts and down for breakfast and meds in the shake of a lambs tail. No football, at least not until 11 o’clock so I have time to fill. I do my usual check of messages and emails, nothing exciting or demanding there. I stare in to space and then notice the objects strewn on the coffee table before me. They seem surreal and I get an urge to write, a sort of poem. Its one I might take to the Poetry Stanza so they can spend ten minutes playing with.

Twenty three and a half
By twenty three and a half inches.
A measuring tape.
Two laptops and stands
With mouse and mat, top layer.
Down.
Used envelop, deceased RAC card,
Hard drives, external.
Hair band, rubber band, box cutter,
Ear buds, biro, gimlet.
USB stick, glasses, glasses reading,
Bulldog clip, paper clip, expended paracetamol.
Paper note, post office receipt, postage stamps.
Sticky note flags, silver ring box, 
Remote and coffee glass;
Almost overlooked the fifty pence pieces, rare.
This is the archaeology of a dying life,
Or, another instillation by Tracey.

If you think £50, 000 is a joke remember Tracy Emine’s bed installation went for £2,400000 purportedly representing her struggle with a break down, so I reckon that wrestling with stage 4 cancer got to be worth at least £50,000. You see how absurd the world is and must not be taken seriously.

So onto the football and what a game. I’m really enjoying this tournament. Lowly South Korea hold the might Germans to a one all draw, while elsewhere Morocco, who Germany thrashed 6-0 in the first round, beat Columbia, who beat Germany 2-1 in the first round, by a goal to nil, thus eliminating the two time word champions and hot favourites out of the world cup. Columbia and Morocco go on into the knock out phase of the competition while Germany fly home. They did not look happy at all. My partner brings me a lunchtime sandwich and we watch the Moroccans celebrate.

The post arrives and my one piece of post that isn’t automatic recycling is my copy of the oncologist’s report from my last review to the GP. These letters are usually bland but I noted one phrase in it that seemed out of character for “he who made a pact with the devil”, namely and I quote: “I am delighted that his PSA has already started to fall from 8.9 to 5.5”. Its the first time he has ever expressed enthusiasm for anything. I could cynically interpret his delightedness as relieve the drugs are working because if they don’t I doubt he has any more potions up his sleeve. Anyway by just after midnight tomorrow I will know if his delight will be fuelled by a further drop in my PSA or whether our telephone call on the 10th of August will be a tricky one.

I take my vitals, all good there and then go to the Shed. It overcast and cold so I am in a pullover to keep myself warm. I write a letter while drinking water and eating the last of the fluffy wine gums rescued from the car. Letter finished I seek stimulation and find a couple of small unfinished “paintings” and decide to see if I can get going on them again. So I spend what must have been hours working on them. By the time the garden guy arrives at tea time I am almost done, I can concentrate no more so I pack up the Shed, undecided whether I had finished the two little boards. Here they are. There are two others in the same vein somewhere. The idea (yes there was an idea) came from looking down on the Spanish landscape as we came into land many years ago. The little boards have been kicking around in my art bag for years waiting to be finished. I must dig out the other two and see if the all hang together as originally envisaged. Probably not as time has moved on and my internal universe is doing something different with the memory now.

Piet Mondrian’s famous block colour painting Red, Blue and Yellow, which also had a lot of white in it sold for $50,565,000. As you can see my works are small but more complicated. Once again the world of absurdity raises it head. Back in the house I start to draft the blog and think about my evenings entertainment. I shall read for a bit and no doubt TV will play a role. Whatever happens I shall be going to bed early as tomorrow I’m going for my pre oncology review blood tests at 9 o’clock and I shall want to shower before I go, one simple doesn’t go to the doctors surgery smelly, does one.