Tuesday and the blood results are in!

I discover this good news as my partner brings me a hot water while I am still in bed. This is indeed good news. It is also heartening that everything in pink ( the out of range readings) are all moving in the right direction, i.e. towards normal. Even my kidney function is doing its bit to get better. I scribble a ditty in celebration.

501
Hip Hip Hurray
down goes my PSA,
the chemo rechallenge
has been examined.
Its a thumbs up
I have back up,
there's fight left in me
so let there be glee.

                                    501 24-02-2026 

My partner brings me toast in bed as a treat and then goes off with her friend to a garden complex that has food and an array of shops. I get up heartened by my blood results and set about my chores for the day. First up is reading the meters and getting the readings off to the supplier. Of course they keep telling me to get a Smart Meter but I reject their approaches. When I read the meters I know what the readings are and by not having a Smart meter I am saving the rare earth metals and all the other resources that are used in the manufacture of the meters. In fact my not having a meter is the greenest option possible.

Its that time of the month, drug dossete filling time. Its an important ritual where I fill my weekly drugs dosettes to ensure I take all my medications when I need to. As this week is a chemo week there are additional steroids to be added in around my chemo day. It is not an arduous task but requires a period of concentration to ensure each half day has its correct allocation of drugs in the right order. I beaver away popping pills out of their plastic strips and making sure every half day is right. Last to go in are the pre chemo steroids, these protect me while my immune system is down and helps me through the initial shock of being poisoned. At last I am done and now have a fortnights supply of my medications ready to go. It is one of my corner stones of the structure that I maintain around me to support me. I know if I have a bad day at least my drugs are sorted and all I have to do is take what is in the days container and not bother with fiddling about with packets and wrappings.

So with my bloods cast up in the usual grid, my meters read and my drugs sorted for the beginning of cycle 4 I settle down to draft the blog. Lunch time comes around and I am not sure what I am going to eat. I have lived on toast and eggs for the past couple of days and need to add some more substantial items to my diet. What ever I choose I have John Berryman’s poetry collection to finish reading and it is likely that I shall write something for the poetry website. In the end I settle on soup and end up watching a film with my partner and her friend before they go out to dine.

My evening is pie and chips, which I later regret, but there is football and some TV. Best of all was a brief phone call from a friend who wanted to say how good it was that my PSA had dropped. At the end of the evening I take my meds and go to bed feeling like my gut is in uproar, tomorrow it is going to be toast again. It is also the day of my oncology review, another indecently short phone call that I will wait hours for no doubt. The good thing is that my bloods are good enough to get me om the next cycle of the chemo rechallenge.

Sunday and I wake to the sound of the household preparing breakfast. On joining them I take my morning meds and eat. With breakfast over there is a critical time slot to get everything packed up for my daughters family return home. Newly fed toddler and baby are travel ready and secured in the car and are soon being waved off into the distance. Its been a really good weekend seeing the family and of course the new grandson for the first time.

In the afternoon I watch a rugby match and the final of the winter Olympics ice hockey. I am aware that as the day goes on I feel more and more fatigued and not well. In an effort to pull myself together before going to the theatre I have a shower and during this realise I am in no fit state to go out. The upshot is I do not go out and instead watch TV for a while until tiredness overtakes me. I go to bed early feeling like I do when I react to my 28 day injection, cold, shivery and unable to sleep. Despite feeling tired and craving sleep I am unable to and wake up every two hours at least until the morning arrives.

Monday morning and I get myself up after an appalling night. I get myself down stairs where my partner brings me hot water and toast. I take my morning meds and try to get going. I still feel very fatigued and in the end I take paracetamol to see if it helps. While I wait for the paracetamol to kick in I draft the blog and run through my “to do” checklist in my head. Today is a hospital bloods day so I have to be alright to get to the GP for 1:50pm to get them done. Tesco will deliver this afternoon and I need to read the meters, after that I can rest again. This is not my best time. I spend a bit of time on a poem, which reflects where I am at the moment.

500
It should be a celebration,
it ought to be all the times
I could have told you 
I loved you.
It could have been
all the omitted moments
of kindness and adoration.
All the missed opportunities
to be open and transparent
neatly arrayed here
in a declaration of how
I felt and feel.  
Instead I hesitate
not knowing how I am. 
I know that 500 can come at anytime 
but arriving now 
seems cruel 
as my being is 
not at its best.
I cannot do it justice
and that’s the issue,
this version of me 
is not one I like.
I must try again. 

				500 23-02-2026

I make the GP appointment for my bloods, but I drive the two minutes to the surgery, I had no confidence that I could walk it. My partner had gone to the gym so it was down to me to get there and car seemed the best. My usual 28 day jab nurse took my bloods today, but yet again my reliable left arm vein was reluctant to give up my blood. The nurse finally manged to squeezed the required two vials out of me and sent mem on my way having booked the time for my 28 day jab on March the 2nd. Once home I watch a below par film until my partner returns and Tesco make our delivery. I continue to eat simply and to try and settle my digestive system, whilst topping up the energy levels with Lucozade. My evening is quiet and I go to bed early having taken my night meds. I am hoping for a better nights sleep.

Friday and its a special Friday as today is the day I get to meet my youngest grandson for the first time. I get up slowly and make myself breakfast and take my morning meds before joining in the rest of the household preparing the house for the arrival of the grandchildren and their parents. So while my partner prepares food and my eldest daughter clears the “library” I get on with fitting the stair gate at the top of the stairs. This turned out to not be a simple task as the gate would not line up unless installed absolutely right. Slow and steady was the way forward but eventually the gate gets installed and the upstairs became a safe containment space for the young ones.

With the house prepared there is a breathing space to watch the teeming rain. Once again the weather has become wet and overcast. While waiting for the arrival I get my good camera out and make sure its got a new SD card and fully charged batteries installed. I am hoping to get some good pictures but I also plan to to get a photographic record of the garden for future reference. Around lunch time the red car pulls in the drive and my youngest daughter and her partner appear with the grandchildren. The car gates unloaded and all the paraphernalia is squirreled away before everyone sits down to lunch. Of course there is much cooing over the new grandson who is quietly sleeping through the adventure.

In the afternoon there is a trip to the local village shop but the new youngest grandson stays with me and my partner and seems happy to be just held and coo’d over. The afternoon is filled with the discover of old toys for the children and the introduction of a giant floor puzzle. By tea time everyone is hungry and we all sit down to a warming croc pot meal. Of course bed time begins to run into meal time so there is a break while the two boys are readied for the night ahead. There are baths, and feeds and a settling down before bed. With the eldest tucked up in bed and the youngest fed there is time for cheesecake and chat. My youngest and her partner retire to bed very early as sleep has been hard to come by recently with the new baby. By ten o’clock everyone accept me has gone to bed. I go through my night rituals, take my medication and find myself going to bed early as well. Its been a brilliant day meeting my new grandson.

Saturday arrives after a good nights sleep. It turns out that the grandchildren and their parents also slept well with only one interruption during the night, which means they all got a good nights sleep. I can hear the household waking and being active. My partner brings me a hot water and I get a quick visit from my eldest grandson. Eventually I get up and get dressed and head for the kitchen. I find that the household are getting ready to drive to my partners mother for her to see her youngest great grandchild. It will be a big surprise and a lovely thing to do. I make breakfast, clear the kitchen away and take my morning meds before settling done to catch up with drafting the blog.

The surprise visit to my mother in law goes well, she was pleased to see her new great grandson. Saturday tea is of course timed so that the family as a whole can watch the British men’s curling team lose in the final and get a silver medal. With the excitement over there is a mass heading for bed by the new parents and of course the children. The rest of the household hold out a bit longer but before long I am on my own listening out to see if the baby wakes at all. I watch an old Clint Eastward film, followed by football and then finally a programme about Clint Eastwood as a film maker and director, accompanied by a brandy to settle my stomach. At 1am I take my meds and go to bed as the house is quiet

Wednesday and I am up at a reasonable time. Before anything else I head for the village co-op and gather up sandwiches, egg noodles and a paper Once home I eat my all day breakfast and take my morning meds and work my way through the days crosswords. So a lazy morning leads me to draft an entry for the poetry website. I write about Dante’s Divine Comedy. It can be found at prost8kancerman.com.

After some rugged ice hockey at the Winter Olympics I cook pie for the family tea before watching soem European football. The rest of the evening was marred by my choice of what must be one of he worst films I’ve ever seen, namely The Out Laws, a terrible American comedy (allegedly). Eventually I get to bed having taken my night meds.

Thursday is all about getting ready for the visit of the youngest grandson tomorrow and Saturday. So when I eventually get up I have my breakfast noodles and shower. The morning is about clearing the decks. My partner changes bedding and erects the new children’s cot as I clear the kitchen and tidy up some areas. So when the house is more or less ready its time for a bite to eat and then my partner and I go food shopping at our local garden centre. We tick off items as we go until we have a full trolley and are satisfied we can feed all the family for a couple of days. Once home there is squirrelling to be done and then the watching of the British women’s curling team going out as a result of Switzerland failing to beat the USA in the last round robin match. I take the time to draft the blog and think about the evening meal.

The evening comes and goes amidst ice hockey, football and curling and my famous one pot meal. There are the last things to do before I take my night meds and head for bed.

Tuesday and I am awake and on the brink of getting up by 8:30 am. I read some John Berryman but I full asleep again and find myself waking a second time at about 10:30. I am bemused and not sure why this has happened. I jot down a poem and then my partner brings me a hot water as I am about to head for the kitchen.

499
Alone.
Reading Berryman
in bed.
All cyclothymia ,
depression and tangents.
A third person
chronicle to ice
and death.
It’s dated and done.
Alone.
Writing Berryman
In bed.
Difficult to know
 which is sadder,
but this Mr Bones
will be taken
and not thrown 
away.

					499  17-02-2026

I make a large bowl of egg noodles and take my morning meds with them. The Winter Olympics are of course on the TV, fortunately for me its ice hockey that is on. After a while I shift myself and get out into the garden. There is a mop bucket to be emptied and put away before I can retrieve the bags of bird seed and suet balls that I have in the boot of the car. Once in a while I buy something that turns out to be a real boon to my life. My sack barrow is one such item, it makes my life so much easier as I now move anything of any weight using it. Moving pots around the garden is now a doddle and moving things from the boot of the car to the garden shed is now a simple task. Its like the sturdy hand grip I put in over the bath to steady my progress into the shower, my life is now so much easier. I replenish the suet ball feeder for the birds. The basket that holds the feeding balls is wicker and woven by a friend for me as a Christmas present. The birds love it but they keep taking little bits of the cane weaving for their nests. With my garden tasks complete I return to the comfort of the sofa for a refreshing drink and a start on drafting the blog.

The rest of my day and evening consisted of food, rest, ice hockey, rest, a film, rest and finally meds and bed. Today has been a day of little energy and little motivation so all I can do is give it another go tomorrow.

Monday and I wake up to my partner bringing me a hot water. I check my messages and mail and then get up to take my morning meds. I do not have time to eat, there is a general clearing of thee decks going on. After some preliminary tidying its time to grab the Hoover. It of course needs emptying and the front roller bar needs to have the entwined hair cut off it. Then its time to whiz round the ground floor and get the place looking acceptable. With much of the tidying done its time to brave the outside world. I juggle the cars so that Elsie (car) can be driven off the drive. My partner and I drive to the local garden centre where there is a good bacon roll to be had. Its good to get out and to get a late breakfast.

Before leaving the garden centre I stock up on bird seed and suet balls for the bird feeders. Once home I do the reverse car juggle and settle down to file down the guttering cap to ensure that it will fit when I get the chance to dismantle the water terrace and return my guttering to a standard configuration. After several minutes of filing and test fitting I get the pipe cap to fit the right size of down pipe. All I need now is a couple of dry days, so I might be waiting for a while. There is time for a sandwich and a chat to my eldest daughter via tablet before Tesco arrives with our delivery. Its all hands to the pumps as everything gets squirreled away in next to no time. I try to read some of John Berryman’s 77 Dream Songs. I am unimpressed, its garbage. I am disappointed as everything I read about the collection said how ground breaking it was and how it broke the mould of traditional clear poetry and how it incorporated new cultural expression. What was Pulitzer prize winning in 1965 is now just a jumble of obscure broken sentences centred on an imagined malfunctioning character. Henry or Mr Bones is no more than someone wading around in the post beat poet generation and not really understanding what it was or how it developed into the counter culture movement.

Putting poetry aside I start to draft the blog before assisting my partner in changing the bedding, all part of clearing the decks and trying to get through the post illness recovery period. The evening arrives and I crash, no energy, no option but to take my meds and go to bed. It happens like that sometimes.

Saturday and I am up early for me. There are things to do not least of all is to collect my partners new antibiotics to counter her infection. I get dressed and grab a shopping bag and I am off to the chemist. Its cold and icy, tricky but exhilarating. The chemist is super efficient and I am soon moving on to the brand new Co-op that opened yesterday in the village. The new shop is indeed much bigger and is decked out with new freezers and fridges. I wander around the shop filling my basket with impulse buys like an all day breakfast sandwich and a coke. I add more sensible things to the basket and then look for a paper. Could not find a paper anywhere and then had to ask someone where they had found theirs. The paper rack is of course outside the shop by the entry and I of course had walked past it. Eventually I check out and start out for home.

On my shuffle back home a man stops me and warns me that it is icy and slippery in the shadowy part of the pavement that I am heading for. I thank him and move on till I reach home sound of wind and limb. It did however prompt me to write the following:

498
Huff Puff
Huff Puff
as I plod
through the cold,
ice on the ground.
My bag is full,
partner's antibiotics,
egg noodles and a paper.
I'm heading home
one small step 
at a time.
A stranger, male,
middle aged stops me,
"careful in the shadows
up there its slippery
with ice"
Fuck me I think 
do I look that old.
My face smiles,
my mouth says 
thank you.
Huff Puff 
Huff Puff
till finally 
home. 
                 498 15-02-2026

Once home I eat my breakfast sandwich and take my morning meds. At the winter Olympics the Brits manage to win at last in the curling and the men’s ice hockey begins to get brutal as the stakes get higher. Its a bumper day of sport on TV, international rugby, winter Olympics and of course the fourth round of the FA cup. So I watch Italy succumb to Ireland and then the English get thrashed by the Scots in the Calcutta cup, a more inept performance by the English could not have been possible. So by the end of the rugby the croc pot meal I put in during the morning comes nicely to fruition and the family eat before there is yet more football and ice hockey. However too much sport can drag so my partner and I watch several episodes of Small Prophets a MacKenzie Crook quirky sitcom. There are of course the FA cup highlights to watch by which time my partner has wisely gone to bed. I take my evening meds and go to bed quite pleased with my day.

Sunday and I wake up having slept well. I scribble a couple of things before my partner brings me a hot water. There is time for a chat before I finally get up and attempt to have a shower, but I am thwarted by the water pressure dropping. I am not amused but abandon my attempt but not before I weigh myself, as is my Sunday ritual. I weigh myself once a week, same time same place. I am surprised to see that I have dipped below 100K for the first time in months. Its true that is it is 99.9 kilos but that is definitely below a 100. In frustration I make egg noodles for breakfast and take my meds. As more winter Olympics ice hockey plays in the background I draft the blog while I wait for the water pressure to return to shower levels.

The afternoon flies by as Wales are thumped by a rampant France in the international rugby. The water pressure returns and I have the relief of a shower and all the joys of fresh clothes and deodorant. There is cup football to watch and an evening meal to eat as the Brits actually win a gold medal in the mixed team skeleton. It turns out that this is the second gold medal of the day as we also win one in the mixed snow boarding. This is the Brits best day ever at a winter Olympic Games. So there are medal ceremonies to watch. The evening passes in sport and TV until its time to take my meds and get to bed but before the Tesco order has been adjusted for tomorrows delivery. Once again it has rained almost all day, its a dismal outlook and its a depressing prospect over the next few days. I am hoping to find time to get to grips with the new poetry book I have to read and to get out and about again.

Friday the 13th, a day to play safe on. I wake after a reasonable nights sleep and settle down to have a read before getting up but a friend rings me and I have an unexpected long chat with my friend. Its a good way to start the day. I get up and make a simple breakfast to take my morning meds with. With the kitchen cleared I head for the sofa and the winter Olympics. I had intended to read John Berryman but never made it that far. I spend the morning watching ice hockey and discover that my old favourite team, Arizona Coyotes have become the Utah Mammoth and I toy with the idea of getting one of their jerseys but good sense prevails and I pass up the opportunity.

As the morning goes on I do some research and order some non lactose feed for my youngest grandson, which will arrive tomorrow. It appears he might have an allergy to dairy products. The new frying pan arrives and gets installed in the kitchen. All the time it rains, it pours, it teems and its bloody depressing. its like a dystopic climate crash.

497
I’m sick of rain,
It does nothing but,
and I just watch
as my garden grows
verdant.
There is no let up 
from day to day, 
hour to hour
it is persistent 
and its boring.
When I am feeling off
and fatigued the water 
just dilutes my joy
and what resolve 
I have.
My couch is dry
from where I watch
football, rugby and skiing
in a deluge.
How I crave the sun,
to feel warm and 
to venture outside
without fear of being a 
drowned rat.
Should I be building an ark,
Collecting animals
or proposing housing 
on a flood plain?
It brings that kind of madness. 
A glimpse of a dystopian
warmer earth. 

				497  13-02-2026

My afternoon is full of exciting ice hockey and shit Great British Curlers, who seem to have forgotten how to play. All the time it is throwing it down with rain. By the early evening I am being the chef again and bake smoked haddock with savoury rice and feed my partner, who now knows that the cause of her illness is a campylobacter infection. Tomorrow is a trip to the chemist to pick up the new antibiotics. As it continues to rain the evening is filled with drafting a short blog entry and the men’s figure skating. A procession of adolescent pipe cleaners, all bendy, jumpy and slippery. Eventually I clear the kitchen ready for tomorrow and then I set my sights on my bed, meds taken I retreat and hope for a good nights sleep. Most of all I hope for a day with no rain.

Thursday and I wake up after a reasonable nights sleep. I must be feeling perkier as I make myself a favourite fried egg sandwich to accompany my morning meds. I clear the kitchen and and then retreat to the recliner to watch winter Olympics. All morning various couriers deliver packages, my partner has obviously been busy while recovering from her bad gut. By mid morning the dining area is full of parcels. Not wanting to be left out I order a new frying pan as the old one is getting beyond being serviceable.

The post arrives and in amongst the usual fliers there is a package addressed to “Tufty Woodward”. I open it and find a Dockers Hat. My friend from Durham has sent me a new hat in response to my hair falling out due to chemo. Its a brilliant hat and just what I needed, warm, close fitting and plain, unlike the various ice hockey hats I have. I of course wear it immediately, it lifts my spirits.

Also in the post is a poetry book that I ordered a long time ago. Its John Berryman’s 77 Dream Songs. Apparently he won a Pulitzer prize for it. On the other hand he committed suicide at the age of 57 due to a combination of mental instability and an attendant life style. I start to read the poems but it is clear from the off that I will need time to focus and read them properly. They are a series of poems about Henry and what affects him. Henry is both Berryman and not Berryman but with all the fault lines of Berryman. I anticipate an interesting read.

At lunchtime I make myself soup and watch my first ice hockey game of the day. The speed at which the men play is incredible, as is the physicality. By the end of the afternoon I decide to get off my arse and cook a proper meal. So in the late afternoon I set about making a pie. I have a standard recipe but today I make a plain mince filling with a plain mash top in the hope that my partner might be able to eat some. When my eldest daughter returns home the pie gets popped into the oven and twenty minutes later everyone is tucking into pie. I am glad I made the effort and feel much better for a proper meal. My partner was able to eat some, which I take as a good sign.

The evening is initially taken up watching the British ladies curling team painfully lose to China. The four person curling is boring and lacks any real excitement. It is all about spoiling the other teams efforts so it lacks creativity and any real competitiveness. With the painful curling out of the way I watch Brentford (my team) play Arsenal. Its a tough match and ends in a draw, an excellent result for Brentford. I draft the blog and clear the kitchen before taking my night meds and heading for bed. Tomorrow is Friday the 13th so I will be taking it steady.

Wednesday and I wake after a good nights sleep. Its mid morning by the time I get up and make a plain breakfast and take my morning meds. My first job of the day is to fill my drugs dossetes for the next couple of weeks. Its a fiddly job but keeps me on track with my drugs and helps maintain a structure to keep me organised. In the background people are throwing themselves about on snow boards on a half pipe. Eventually I get dressed in fresh clothes and tidy away the drugs packages and then order more meds and hand sanitiser from Amazon. I catch the news, which I have not seen for days. It turns out that there is a big shooting in Canada, nine dead and some injured. While in London a thirteen year old is being quizzed for stabbing two youths. So the world is still violent and senseless. Amongst this the usual sacking of football managers and political mud throwing.

For the first time in a while I write, prompted by my reading of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Apparently “Comedy” in the its fourteenth century meaning is the opposite of tragedy. It is the journey from pain and sorrow to joy and salvation, so Dante’s journey through hell to purgatory and then to heaven fits the genre.

496
It feels like I should write,
my being is low 
there should be poems.
Chemo bites hard,
my energy low,
my anxieties high.
A recipe for words,
but no, I am mute,
all I can hope for is 
comedy as Dante wrote,
to end in joy and triumph. 

						496 11-02-2026

I start my afternoon drafting the blog and assessing the weather. It rains and while it rains I cannot get to my rain terrace and guttering that I am going to adapt. Today the men’s ice hockey gets under way, which I shall be watching in an array of my own ice hockey jerseys. As it happens my youngest daughter rings me and we chat about how the household is doing in terms of recovery and agree that we will not be ready to receive guests this coming weekend, perhaps next weekend. We chatted cars and M.O.Ts for a while and the pros and cons of new tyres alongside new com rods. Of course we talked about the grandsons and how they are. After talking to me she rang my partner for, I guess, a similar conversation.

My evening progresses with snow boarding and football, but I find myself nodding off as I still have a sleep deficit. Eventually I draft the last bit of the blog and settle down to the rest of my evening before I go to bed hoping for another good nights sleep.