Saturday and I wake to a dull day. My partner makes me coffee quickly followed by a coffee. We are about to leave to go into town and the post arrives. I have an nhs letter, which I am not expecting. I open it and find I have an appointment with the radiotherapy team in May. So prior to my oncology review next Tuesday the team have already decided on the basis of my PETT-CT scan that they are going to offer me something. It feels unexpected and unbalancing. We go into town and return goods to a shop and then have coffee and cannoli at a little Italian café.

My partner and I return to the shops to pick up some gift tokens for up coming birthdays. We return to the Italian café for lunch where we chat about what we are going to do in the foreseeable future. On returning home to the village it is still full of cars from the traveller funeral that had been taking place. The afternoon is spent going through the paper work that was brought back from my sisters house in London. There are receipts for jewellery and objects that we had not found in the house, so I will need to instruct the solicitor accordingly soon.

When no more paper work can be done I watch some athletics before I go and train for the first time in 10 days. I row for 45 minutes and it goes reasonably well. I at least burn 600+ calories.

After a quick tea I settle down to seek out my latest blood results. I find them and eventually get them caste up in a grid as usual. The headline is that my PSA has risen again and this time it is faster than before. Velocity is everything and mine is increasing. So now it seems that a radiotherapy appointment in May seems a tad casual and laid back. The rest of the results appear to me to be average or thereabouts.

Frankly after the last few days I am not sure I care or at least not in the same way. I shall train, eat sensibly, most of the time and read. I shall spend Shed time, write letters but before all that I shall bury my sister and then see what happens. My evening drifts as I draft the blog and watch the days football highlights. It seems a packed day, and I am not sure where I am in it, so its night meds and bed for me.

Friday and I wake up in my own bed and immediately I read some more of my new book Perfume. I read until I realise I need to shift myself to the GP surgery for my bloods to be done. I get to the surgery on time and soon I have a needle in my vein. I get home and while I drink coffee I start to compose the notifications of death cards that need to be sent. It takes a while to find the right form of words and layout. I notice that my blood letting vein is more bloody than usual so spray it with plastic skin. I take some time out to do the crosswords and to have a bite to eat. I drive to the printers in the next village. You can tell its a posh village because there is absolutely no where to park and the pubs are full with locals.

I do the business with the printer and then return home to continue working on the funeral organisation. I choose music for the funeral. Mozart to enter to, Roderigo for reflection and Vivaldi to leave and enter the world again. I guess I decline during the rest of the day as my tiredness catches up with me. By the evening I am tired and watch TV zombie like apart form face to face call with my youngest daughter. I usually stay up to see my blood results on line but today I can’t rustle up the energy or enthusiasm. I go to the night in hope of sleep and dreams that are kind.

Thursday and I wake up in the hotel again. Breakfast and then I drop off some more papers at the solicitor’s. My partner and I pay our parking fees adn then drive to the house in London. Once in we start to go through piles of paper work and files. After quite a time trying to make sense of a lot papers I come across a box file with a letter from the solicitor with an invoice for work to a will. The date was 2020, ten years later than the ne the solicitor read to me the day before. I ring her and she is perplexed. At first she cannot locate the reference number and then she finds it. So there is a later will which names me and both my daughters as executors to the will. She is will share with me in due course. The solicitor is bringing estate agents to the house in the afternoon so I leave the papers I have found for her to find. My partner and I have had enough. Its a strain being there in the house so we leave and drive home.

The drive is smooth and I get home about three o’clock. I unpack the car while my partner makes coffee and goes for a shower to wash London off. I ring a local printer about cards to inform people about my sisters death and then finish unpacking. The family decide to have an easy chippy evening meal and I try to catch up with my food/training diary, I also try to catch up with my accounts. With that done its time to draft the blog while the TV provides wallpaper. Tonight I need to sleep as tomorrow I am having bloods done for Tuesdays oncology review. And so life moves on.

Wednesday, and I wake up in a hotel bed yet again. Before getting up I email a registrar of deaths and then its off to breakfast and a very busy day. Rather than labour through the day here is what was achieved:

• Registered my sisters death.
• Collected the death certificate and copies.
• Met with the solicitor and organised, new locks, house evaluations, contents valuation, house cleaning and tidying and was read the will.
• Visited the funeral directors and booked a funeral slot and made initial arrangements.
• Provided the funeral directors with the relevant “green form”
• Sorted through some papers for the solicitor.
• Activated the government “tell us once” process.
• Acquired the mail redirection form required for special circumstances.

By 6:30 in the evening me and my partner are exceedingly tired and are just pleased to stop and eat an early meal. We retire to our hotel room and I watch a football match on the TV and then draft the blog. It is going to be an early night. Tomorrow more documents will be taken to the solicitors before I visit the house once more to look for documents and then return home. I need to train and get ready for Fridays bloods.

This is a tiring time both physically and emotionally but it feels as if I am moving forward.

Tuesday and I wake up and finish Stardust before getting up for breakfast. Its my usual muesli and morning meds meal. At 10:30 I set off with my youngest daughter to pick up her new car. There is much paper work and generally speaking it goes smoothly. There was a bit of a hiccup digging out anything that could pass as a service history. In the end a service in 2018 and 20220 had to suffice. My daughter drove me home in her new car. We sat outside the house in it having a preliminary play with the toys. She was able to pair her phone with it in the blink of an eye. We also discovered that most of the radio stations list were Christian ones which we decided explained the low mileage. Why a car with a Christian owner would do less miles I am not sure but that is where we got to. We ate celebratory bacon sandwiches before my youngest daughter and I both drove to the garage to fill with petrol and to check the tyres. I waved my youngest daughter off home and I returned to feed the hedgehog and fill the bird feeders before driving my partner and I to London.

We did the journey with only one stop at Feltham services where we decided to have coffee and I chose to have a toasted ham and cheese sandwich. It was foul. Whatever it was they called cheese was a milky, gooey blob, which dribbled out and onto my trousers and shoes. We left and head to my sisters house. The coroner called me while on the move and told me that the GP was content for the cause of death to be heart failure and I was asked if I was all right with that. I was of course but wondered what would happen if I wasn’t. He told us about getting a death certificate and that he would email the email address that I needed to contact. So far today he hasn’t. On arrival we collected the keys from the neighbour, who handed us a condolence card and the keys. I had not realised that the keys had been used to gain entry. In my head the police had broken in, but apparently the neighbour was present with the keys. He never told me that when he texted me at the time. I open the front door and I am confronted with a scene of utter chaos. It is as if the house has been squatted in. I am appalled by what I see and I am furious that my sister could let herself live in this state, especially when she had told me more or less to fuck off when I tried to gently suggest that she might get some support or help. I am out faced by the state of the place. My partner and I start to look for paper work. The solicitor has given me a list of things they need. There is a sea of paper everywhere adn we try and recycle a lot of the advertising adn inconsequential stuff. My partner empties the fridge while I look for the required documents. I am aware that there are specific things that my sister bequeathed to specific people but we can find no sign of the items. we end up with boxes of paper work, address books, family history documents. By 6:30 we are both knackered. We load the car, lock up and drive to the hotel.

We check in at the hotel and get to our room, unpack and freshen up. We then go of fin search of something simple and tasty to eat. We walk all the way to Chiswick before we find an Italian. Lots of other nationalities of food bit not to our fancy. The Italian is packed, probably because of its rarity but we are found a place. For the next couple of hours we eat delicious food and try to ignore the over raucous diners at a large table and the general loud hubbub of the restaurant. Intriguingly the male of the couple sitting the other side of the lemon tree that grew in the centre of our table, (it poncey London what else would you expect) spent the entire time finding new ways to grope his girlfriends chest with varying degrees of success. I assume that this is a new dining ritual for courting couples. We paid our bill and walked back to the hotel were we both collapsed on the bed and I drafted the blog. My intention was to eat and then sort out some of the paper work we found for the solicitor but I am too tired to even think about it.

I find myself a toxic mixture of fury and sadness. The fury has many levels and will need time to be resolved, the sadness is that anyone’s life should come down to where this chaos lives. I know that it is unlikely that the things I need to do will fall neatly into line but I am anticipating much frustration and a hell of a lot of admin in the coming weeks.

Monday and I am knackered before I even get to the evening. Despite reading for a bit before getting up and trying to maintain a calm and reasonable pace the day feels hectic. After a muesli breakfast and morning meds I start the required round of phone calls to solicitors, coroners, neighbours and GP surgery. I have started a log to record who and when I’ve talked to people and what information they impart. Eventually there is breathing space and I and my youngest drive to the garden centre to indulge in scones and hot chocolate or tea before buying a fresh pie for tea tonight. Home again and there is some preparation work to be done so that we can collect my youngest daughters new car tomorrow. I get a car report and we work out the mileage history and the MOT history. It seems that our car find is a genuine good buy. Its 17000 mile history is true and even over its history. My partner and I juggle money from account to account until it nestles in my youngest daughters account ready to pay for the car tomorrow. At last there is a moment to feed the hedgehog whose bowls are empty from my neglect. I fill them up and after a final bit of admin, including my next lot of drugs and Mondays injection I sit on the sofa and start to draft the blog. So here I am knackered, with no other intention than eat my fresh pie tea, read and go to bed early.

During the day I have had messages and calls from friends asking how I am and offering to help if they can. People are good and even better when the chips are down and there is a need for support. In this respect I am blessed. I have few friends but the ones I have are the just the best. I am despite everything a very lucky and rich person to have such family and friends.

Saturday. A difficult day. My sisters neighbours tell me they cannot get a response for her and her mail is still in the letter box. I cannot delay action any longer and I request an urgent welfare call to her. I go to meet a group for a meal and on the way one of my sisters neighbours texts me that the police have gained access to her house. Then there is silence. I meet my friends and have a meal. I return home to find the police talking to my partner and daughters My sister has been found dead. The police leave and I ring the responsible officer and get the numbers I need and an update on the situation. The evening is filled with messages and some preliminary thank yous. I take my night meds and go to bed to sleep fitfully with the thought of how sad dying alone is and was for my sister.

Sunday starts with coffee in bed and some reflection. The household rouses and breakfasts collectively. I top up the oil level in my youngest’s car. My youngest daughter and partner along with me drive off to car dealerships in search of a new car for my youngest. We abandon one dealership as they no longer have what was on their website and head for another. We look at a couple of cars and end up test driving one. It would be possible to spend a life time looking at cars but the more we considered the one we test drove the more it ticked the boxes. Low millage, 5 door, petrol, real spare wheel, large boot, smooth drive, rear leg room and pulled up hill very well. Both my partner and I have previously owned this make and model back in the day and had really good experiences with them. The deal is done, including a good trade in and so we will return on Tuesday to collect my youngest daughter’s new car. It is particularly pleasing to know that she will have a safe and reliable car to go to work in and see her through to motherhood. We return home and indulge in celebratory ham sandwiches and a rugby match.

The family slide into the evening and the usual Sunday tasks like a Tesco order and preparing for work tomorrow. For me I will begin the journey of putting my sister to rest and sorting out all her affairs. It feels like a turning point, new challenges to be faced. Of course there are pre oncology review bloods to be done this week so there are some odd threads of my cancer reality to continue with.

Friday and I wake up in a hotel room again. Its a strange sense listening to a hotel wake up around me and I follow suit. I shower and make my way down to breakfast. It feels a quite chaotic set up but in essence I am left to graze on anything I want in any order. It is very much a refuelling experience. I return to my room to pack and organise myself for the journey back. I do not rush and take my time till I feel ready to drive. In the midst of this I receive a message that a hospital is trying to contact my sister. I make calls and send messages and texts. I leave York not knowing what the situation is.

In reality my drive back was smooth. I restocked my wine gum and water stocks at the first garage and then drive smartly home. Back home I unpack and return to messaging my sister. I get a phone call from the hospital asking if my sister was coming to her appointment as it was past time for her appointment today. I suspect that there is a story to all this and that most of it will be communication misunderstandings. The family return home and we catch up. Its Friday and we are all tired and decide it will be a good day to have fish and chips. My eldest daughter and I walk over to the chippy and find that due to the earthquake in Turkey the chippy is closed for a week. So plan B was put into action and we dined on Indian takeaway. I start to read my latest Neil Gaiman novel. Stardust. More fairies and strange folk. The evening has TV and drafting the blog in it. By the time Graham Norton comes round I am out of energy, take my meds and retreat to bed.

Thursday and I wake up early in a hotel bed after a reasonable nights sleep. I have vague memories of listening to the rain in the night. I make a coffee, take my meds and check my messages and emails. There is nothing new or urgent so I take a long shower and relax. I have a little time before I need to go to my appointment with my mentor/listener so I head to Tesco and get a breakfast roll and coffee. Considerably cheaper than at the hotel and just as satisfying. I drive to my appointment.

My conversation was interesting and useful. It would seem that the noise I experience in the world is not confined to me, it never could be just me, but it is useful to know that others experience it as well. I discuss my “fairy tale” state and the effect it might be having on me. Those moments of anxiety that I experience are probably related to what is going on in the back of my mind, which I am containing. It is apparent that in general age just brings more complex and demanding networks of relationships and health issues to juggle. It occurs to me that what I have been doing since June last year is simplifying my life and expunging the trivia and inconsequential from it. There is a danger that I over do it and cut things that actually feed me and are good for my well being. Balance seems to be the key and paying attention to what I am actually doing at any one time. Old stuff but easy to slip out of doing it. The idea of deciding what to focus on at any one time is encapsulated by WIN, What’s Important Now. Its another way to remind oneself to pay attention to what you are doing.

I leave my mentor/listener and drive back to the hotel where I start to draft the blog and to capture some of the conversation I have just had. I also write a poem, sort of, without using the letter “e”. It’s clearly a nonsense exercise but it is equally clearly informed by my concerns about the possibilities of radio therapy.

My radio
All knobs and dials
FM loud and proud
Blasts out 
And blastomas.
Its slaying a tumour
Its wild and a rumour
that pill and potion
Are in commotion.
Rock and rollology 
Biology and physiology
Burn, scar and cullolgy
On my radiology.
So go man go
And scorch away,
Tomorrows so
Another day.  
Old and gay,
I could spit
This cutting ray
This drill bit 
Sunk within
My skin,
Is no mix,
ain’t no fix.

Like I say it was an exercise, but it kept me occupied till it was time to go and eat. I do not care that it does not scan. A friend sends me a picture on WhatsApp showing the Moon, Jupiter and Venus all in a line and clearly visible. I am tired after what feels like a long but productive day so I do my night meds and go to bed hoping for a good sleep. Tomorrow is the drive home at a sedate pace and a weekend ahead.

Wednesday and I am up early for me and tucking into muesli and coffee for breakfast. My morning meds get downed and I start a blog page for the day. I am traveling to York today so need to pack and organise myself. One of the people I will see is an old colleague who now acts as my mentor/ listener who I go and see in order to check how I am coping with my cancer and all the things that are affected by that. I find it invaluable to have someone who is outside my situation to talk to who asks the questions that I or my family might not ever ask. It makes me think and helps me to stay grounded about my situation. Importantly it makes me think about the people around me and how they are and what they are coping with. Cancer tends to make me very egocentric and forget others are also dealing with my cancer and what that means to them. I am also hoping to see other old friends and colleagues for meals or coffee but all that depends on their situations and commitments. Now its time to organise and pack.

The drive to York was unremarkable apart from the treasure trove of wine gums I found in the glove compartment. Well done past Roland. The first few miles up the motorway were a tad tentative. I think like all skills if you haven’t done it for a while it erodes a bit. By the time Sheffield hove’s into view I was well back in the grove and cruising along quite happily. The cranes at Sheffield are still there and I wonder if they had a star on them at Christmas. The rest of the run was easy going and I arrived in York with time to spare before check in time so I “treated” myself to a Tesco egg and bacon brioche and coffee. What an experience that was is it arrived with a plastic cheese slice melted into it with the addition of a sweet onion relish. Thank god they did not find a way to fuck up a black americano. The brioche prompted me to order more toothpaste and a book from Amazon. A little post lunch shopping and I drove to the hotel and checked in. Once in the room I checked to see if an old colleague was free for coffee but she was busy with students and holiday admin, so I wrote some lists and caught up with drafting the blog. I’m dining out tonight so I shall kill time till then. My room for some reason has a sofa bed in it that has been made up, I’m a bit baffled by this so fold it away so that I have the space and a sofa to laze around on.

I sit and reflect on my journey and note that I did not stop for a pee on the way. When I was first diagnosed with my cancer I am sure that the same journey was punctuated by toilet stops, as were other journeys. Looking back I think this may have been the result of anxiety. After all it was a period when I had self catharised for a while and had little confidence in my body. Things seem to have changed as I have got used to my status and condition. I have clearly adapted over the last three and a half years, and probably my body has interacted with the various drugs it has absorbed, and continues to do so. So any conclusion about my current state is difficult to clarify or attribute to a single variable but I do feel less need to be “all consumed” by my cancer. At the moment I am just waiting to see what the next set of bloods brings and the outcome of my PET-CT scan. All of that comes on the 7th of March. There will be a new set of arithmetic that will contain the logic of what will happen to me and what options are available to me. I already know that my medication will change, the question will be whether radio therapy will be of any use to me and that is the logic in the arithmetic. Too big, too small or just right, its the Goldilocks syndrome. I can do nothing but wait to see how Grimm my fairy tale will be.

I watch a women’s football match on the hotel TV, Italy v South Korea. Good to see the game played without the rolling around or mouthing the referee. I go for a meal with an old colleague and friend. It is a lovely meal and a chance to catch up. We talk about long COVID and the similar experience to how cancer robs me of energy. I drop her off at home and make my way back to the hotel to finish the blog. I spend some time preparing for my meeting with my mentor/listener. There is much to consider before I see the oncologist again at the start of March.