Friday and its scan day. I get up after a coffee and shower. Again its the pre hospital ritual of being clean and smelling nice. It also means thinking about what to wear as its a scan, so no zips, no belts, no jewellery and no jumpers. It also means having clothes with enough pockets to juggle all the bits and pieces that the trip will require. Given the weather coupled with the no jumper rule I plump for a vest and T shirt so that I can wear my new multi pocketed knuckle cord jacket. So having got the hospital kit on I check that I have everything I need. I say good bye to my youngest daughter who is returning home today. Farewells said I then get myself on the road to the hospital.

I arrive early and find a parking place with no problem at all, which is unexpected. What was also unexpected was a stranger offering me her parking ticket that still had tome left on it, but unfortunately not long enough for me to use, so I politely decline. I get my parking ticket and then enter the hospital with my mask on. I wonder towards radiology and find myself thinking that there are not many people around. I find radiology and get directions to waiting area B. There are two other couples and a singleton in the little bay and I think I am in for a long wait. I get out Betrayed By Rita Heyworth and start to read. To my surprise the people around me disappear, reappear and bugger off in very quick time. I’ve only got through a couple of pages before the radiographer calls me in. Nice guy, so I give him my pre completed risk form to save him flogging through same form. He explains the injection of a contrast liquid into me and asks me if I have a favoured arm. Left, its always the left, I have a very accommodating vein in the left arm and sure enough he whips in the catheter first go. I lay down on the scanner and the radiographer arranged my limbs and leaves the room. Fairly soon a mechanical voice is asking me to take a breath and hold it. After a couple of the breath holding interludes I feel the contrast fluid being pumped into my arm and right on cue I experience the flushing sensation through my limbs and the rather disconcerting sensation of wanting to pee and poo at the same time. It is one of those moments that you hope everything holds together, but of course it does and all goes well. The radiographer returns and ushers me in to a small waiting area and then goes to check the magic machine has worked, so I am left to contemplate the catheter in my arm adn of course cannot resist a quick selfie.

The radiographer returns (a good book title), and takes my catheter out and askes if I am okay. Of course I am. I leave the building and fancy a bacon roll adn a coffee so I drop into the hospital restaurant. Coffee machine not working and not a sniff of bacon anywhere. I leave unfulfilled and return to the car to drive home. I get home to find there is much cleaning and organising going on, which precludes coffee and a bacon bagel. I got out again to the shop for a paper and drop into the village café to have a coffee and a bacon and sausage baguette. Refreshed I return home.

Once home I head for the Shed where I reorganise and integrate many Christmas goodies. I settle down and write letters, probably the last of this year. By the time I finish writing it is dark so I pack up the Shed and go indoors. I take a quick trip to the post box and then settle down to watch some TV. Before long its time for tea and the easing into the evening. My household has been busy completing yet another Christmas jigsaw. The success is marred by a missing piece.

As luck would have it the wayward piece gets found later under the jigsaw board. As TV wallpapers the background I start to draft the blog and think about what I am going to do tomorrow with the last day of this year. I am frustrated that I cannot train and have not trained this week and part of me wants to train tomorrow just to get my body going. If I wake up feeling half human tomorrow I might give it a try.

Thursday and I am awake with coffee by 9 o’clock feeling a little more human than I did yesterday. I get up and get back to having a sensible gut assisting helping of muesli and yoghurt. I’m feeling so much better that I accompany my partner to the post office and the village shop to get some odds and ends of food for tonight’s tea. I’m surprised I am this chipper but maybe over doing it with out realising. Buoyed by my experience I contemplate going out again later but first there is Jumanji to watch. Only after I watched this gamitytosh do I take the car to fill it and check the tyres. Back home I have chicken soup, the traditional “make you better” cure all and begin to draft the blog. I find someone has left a comment which I of course reply to. I can feel my spoon store rapidly decreasing. A friend messaged me earlier in the day and shared that she had managed to walk a mile without needing to rest, which is a big thing for someone battling long COVID, so I take heart that I too will recover in time from my cold.

As I meander through the rest of the day my family are busy doing Christmas jigsaws. This year has been particularly rich in new puzzles. Personally I gave up jigsaws last year when I experienced the revelation that life is too short for jigsaws. However here is the fruits of my families endeavours.

I cruise through the rest of the afternoon by preparing my paper work for tomorrows scan. This is the fifth one I have done so it should go smoothly, getting a parking space is likely to be the trickiest part of the adventure. What I have to remember is that the car park does not take card payments, so I have to make sure I am weighed down with coins. Its the only hospital in the area that has yet to catch up with technology. I cannot help thinking that this lack of techno ability reflects why its CQC rating of “requires improvement” is accurate. Tea time comes around and we are soon all back in the warmth of the lounge doing cyber puzzles, TV quizzes and in my case drafting the blog. There will be a film, warm drinks and an early night for me. I am right, my spoons have run out.

Wednesday, because I can hear the bins being emptied. I had a grim nights disturbed sleep with a throat clamped steel trap shut and raw. My first act of the day was to seek Lemsip and then retreat back to bed. Its a sort of self imposed quarantine as I do not want to pass this on to anyone else in the family. So here I am in bed with the cyber world and books. I am desperate to get better as I have a scan on Friday and they will not do it if I am too obviously unwell. So for the moment Strepsils are my friend and books my food. Fortunately Christmas was kind to me in book terms so I have Manuel Puig’s Betrayed by Rita Heyworth to read, although my concentration span is shot at the moment. When I find I can read no more Puig I return to Big Panda and Tiny Dragon to feed me small but very wholesome brain food. It is in these times that the Dark and Tricky rises inside me and I begin to doubt all sorts of things about myself, others and the world, fortunately at this moment in time Big Panda comes to the rescue.

So here I stay becalmed by a crap cold, at least it will give me an opportunity to do the word count for the 350 poems I have to prepare for publication. That’s my first step. The day goes, I tire, take my meds and go to bed. I’m cold inside and out.

Tuesday and I wake up feeling totally crap, my acquired cold has caught hold with a vengeance. I make a coffee and retreat to bed with paracetamol and books. I start to read James Norbury’s Big Panda and Tiny Dragon. I am hooked straight away and read it all the way through and then I read it again. It is a Buddhist inspired book and touches all my nerves in the right way. It seems that every picture has a meaning for me at the moment. One in particular sets me off and makes me think that I have forgotten why I started the blog and why I finally retired in June.

My first thought was whether I had lost sight of why I write this blog. Originally it was for family and friends to let people know how I am. The thought was that people find it difficult to ask about cancer and what it is doing to me. My experience is that after the first crisis phase of knowing that I had cancer life could be very prosaic, boring even. I think my blog reflects this as it moved through the various phases. I looked back at the blog from the start and reminded myself of how long its been going on and what I have asked people to persevere with over this time. It seems to me that there is much of the mundanity of life and bursts of cancer related stuff. Of course the cancer stuff is always there and that’s the theme that remains unsaid most of the time.

• Welcome all. 01-09-2019 1 day
• Induction day. 02-09-2019 1 day
• Chemo Days 04 -09-2019 to 05-01-2020 124 days
• Fingers Crossed Phase 07-01- 2020 to 23-03-2020 77 days
• As Good As It Gets Phase 24-03-2020 to 08-02-2021 322 days
• As Good As It Gets Phase II 10-02-2021 to 21-12-2021 315 days
• Antiandrogen 22-12-2021 to 22-02-2022 63 days
• As Good As It Gets Again 23-02-2022 to 31-10-2022 251 days
• ROCKET 01-11-2022 to Present 57 days
• TOTAL SO FAR 1211 DAYS

It would seem there are a lot of days since that first all text page on the 1st of September over three years ago. Over the years to date people have occasionally told me that they have read the blog and found it useful and said nice things about how it helps from time to time or just keeps them up to date with my situation. I guess the blog is continuing to do what it was intended for and as time has gone on I have found that it helps me to be clear about what is important to me and makes me own some of the more tricky stuff that comes with the cancer territory.

The same picture in the book made me think about my poetry. I had intended to self publish my poetry but instead I entered competitions and sent some poems for consideration for publishing by various poetry journals. All that has happened is that I have joined a poetry Stanza and endured rejection and silence. I have had nothing accepted or published. The logic in the cognitive arithmetic could be argued to indicate my poetry is shit. It might of course be so but that’s not what I feel. So remembering why I started is helpful. I have already looked again at self publishing houses and rekindled my energy to find a way to publish. My first job is to word count all the poems that I want publish, that will give me a cost parameter. So over the coming days I shall begin the process with a view to publishing in the next six months.

I finally get up and set about clearing up the piles of wrappings and recyclable boxes. With that done I put out the bin for emptying tomorrow. I make hot soup and then settle down to write the blog as I watch Karate Kid and a rugby match. I dose up with more paracetamol. Its going to be a short evening as I shall go to bed early but not before sorting out tomorrows Tesco delivery.

It’s Monday, my families Christmas day. We start with warm drinks all in or on the same bed just chilling, chatting and seeing how we are. Breakfast is marmalade bagels and more warm drinks. Once we are comfortable we settle down in the lounge and open our presents. It takes a while as we have the odd challenge of trying to remember what package is for who when the label has fallen off. We rip and tear and occasionally peel carefully back layers of wrapping to reveal our presents. I have to say my family have spoilt me this year. These coming months see me well provided with all the materials I need to continue writing letters, dress in style, and be warm and colourful. I will also be able to monitor my fitness again on a daily basis as I continue with my Rocket days. My friends also know me well and I get two T shirts that reflect this.

When the present opening ends some of the family go to the shops in the village to get a Christmas pudding. While they are gone I sort my new things out. I have lots of new reading including James Newbury’s Big Panda and Tiny Dragon, Manuel Puig’s Betrayed By Rita Hayworthand and a Moomin book, The Golden leaf. So I expect that over the next few days some of the new reading will appear in the blog. The main event of the day, Christmas dinner is eaten at 3 o’clock in the afternoon at a leisurely pace. It is always a huge meal and no one can face pudding until we have had a few games of Perrudo, a dice game. Once we feel able, we cook the Christmas pudding, deck it with holly, dowse it with brandy and set it alight in true traditional style.

Having filled ourselves with festive food the family head to the lounge to doze through a film and then drift through an evening of TV and grazing. Gradually family members drift off to bed and I draft the blog as the last Match of the Day highlights play out. Its been a lovely day of family feasting and enjoying each other. Tomorrow there will be time to read some of the new books, start the jigsaws and try out my new glass pen. For now its time to take my night meds, something for my developing cold and go to bed. All in all I am a very lucky person.

I wake to kitchen sounds as a traveling turkey crown is popped into the oven. Its Christmas! I get up, sad to leave the warmth of my bed. It might be Christmas but its a Sunday and that means its a weigh in day for me. I get into the bathroom and gingerly step onto the scales. There is a tense moment before I look down. I look down and find myself inwardly yipping! 95.9 Kilos, that’s a loss of a kilo this week. I am well chuffed and surprised. So those sessions which I struggled to do where worth it.

I grab some toast and a coffee, while the oven gets a progression of trays of Christmas goodies like pigs in blankets, stuffing balls and potatoes. I have the luxury of a Christmas shower and change into my festive clothes. Next comes the packing of the Christmas dinner into he boot of the car. Its all successfully tucked away and then I with my partner and both daughters drive over to my partners mother. We arrive and are greeted by my partners mother, at a sprightly 94, and her carer. Everything gets unloaded very quickly and the table laid. Pretty soon we are all around a Christmas table and tucking into a traditional turkey dinner. The wine flows, the conversation also flows and before we know it we are setting light to a spiced rum soaked Christmas pudding. Crackers are pulled and we find ourselves playing the game that was inside them. Apparently my daughters know each other pretty well and surprisingly I and my partner seem to have each other reasonably well sussed. There is present opening and coffee before we all quieten down to watch the KIng’s broadcast. With the that over we continue with presents and then as the night draws in we pack the car for the return trip.

Once home we are into Christmas Strictly, after eights and turkey sandwiches. We are sofa’d for the evening until we feel that its time to put out brandy and carrots to tempt Santa to swing by our house on his return to where ever he goes home to. Tomorrow if Santa swings by we will have our Christmas day with all the trimmings and presents. Although because I am not perfect I will need to get up early and dash to the co-op to see if I can pick up a Christmas pudding as we turn out to be one short.

All through the day messages come in wishing me happy Christmas and there are messages of thanks for cards and presents. Its very warming to know that all my friends are having warm and good Christmases.

Saturday, Christmas Eve! I’m awake relatively early and tucking into my festive muesli in no time at all. My partner goes off to have her hair done leaving me a shopping list of stuff to get. All the original Giffin goods like bread, milk and potatoes. My youngest and I head off to the village co-op and gather up the required goodies. Back home I clear the kitchen and run Daisy dishwasher again to clear the decks, empty the bins and recycle the remaining cardboard boxes. Part way through the morning my youngest and I indulge in late morning sandwiches and a drink.

My partner returns with a fresh hair cut and she and my youngest settle down to watch something on TV. I wrap my last two Christmas parcels and as the film downstairs gets going I go and train. Its the last thing I want to do but I get into my tracksuit and a Christmas ear stud and head for the garage. Its the last session of the week so I put the resistance up and go for a half hour session.

When I am done I record the session in my journal and then retreat to the bedroom to watch Leicester Tigers v Gloucester on my laptop. Tigers win. Of course I indulge in an alcohol free beer and a couple of fig rolls. I change and join the rest of the household for a tea of pizza and a table of goodies before we settle down for His Dark Materials and Celebrity Bake Off. The evening will wind on until people go to bed. For this household tomorrow is taking a Christmas meal to my partner’s mother where we will dine and play till we return in the evening to prepare for our Christmas on Boxing Day. For me tomorrow is a weigh in day, I have a less than festive feeling about how that might go.

Its Friday and perilously close to Christmas. Its time to collect the turkey and other goodies for the festive meals. I get up and do breakfast and meds before driving my partner and I to the local garden centre to collect our festive flesh. After picking up the turkey, mincemeat, sausage rolls and pork pie we move onto the vegetable stall. We are well loaded with food now to which we add a box of crackers. We are a head of schedule so we indulge in scones and hot chocolate. It is all the more pleasing to have got this done quickly as it is absolutely pissing down with rain.

We get home via the garage to fill the car. The goodies get stowed away and its warm drinks all round. There is some Christmas and life admin to be done. My partner and my youngest daughter disappear to the kitchen to bake. A little later there are fresh mince pies and jam tarts to be sampled.

I try to put of the dreaded moment that I need to train to one side but eventually I can’t put it off. I change into my kit and make for the garage. Its a 45 minute session on my lower resistance level. It goes reasonably well in a chilly garage.

I record the session and then change into TV watching clothes. The family eat tea and indulge in some more of the home baking. We then settle down to an evening of quiz programmes including the impossible Only Connect. Then its on to a thriller type thing, Enola Holmes with Millie Bobby Brown, before night meds and bed. Today seems a bit “thin” but I guess that’s what Christmas is about, a kind of non thinking indulgence and sloth fest. Friends are all busy with family, new homes and the last minute rush of Christmas preparations. For me and mine it is a gentle 24 hours before we take a Christmas dinner to my partners mother so our Christmas day will be on Boxing day.

Thursday and I wake up late feeling that I have not slept well. I get up and do breakfast whilst watching a programme about sea otters. I idle doing nothing for a while until my musings are interrupted by the postman. Just some cards and the winter Poetry Review journal. I glace through the journal but I struggle to be engaged by any of the contents. Probably my state of mind has more to do with my lack of engagement than than the poetry . I head for the Shed filling the squirrel feeder as I go. I settle into some life admin and my last minute Christmas arrangements. By 2 o’clock I am done with the Shed and get back to the lounge.

I am strangely unmotivated to do anything let alone train so I switch on the TV. What a great decision it turns out to be as I find myself watching The African Queen, one of my favourite films. It is just a delight with Humphrey Bogart at his best.

I am about to get up and do something else when I realise that the following film is Casablanca, another Bogart classic. Of course I watch it, its Christmas and I’m resting, what better way than watch a couple of brilliant master pieces. I settle back down on the sofa.

My youngest daughter arrives for Christmas having driven for longer than usual to get to us, due to heavy traffic. We chat a while and I return to the films classic ending. The start of a beautiful friendship. I check my messages and find some lovely pictures of Castle Howards Christmas festival from a friend. It looks really rich and decadent, so many bright and shiny things for the children to marvel at.

We eat tea and idle over the chocolate Brussel sprouts before watching celebrity Sewing Bee. Tomorrow starts Christmas in earnest with the early morning collection of the Turkey and other Christmas flesh. What will follow is the entertainment of me trying to get everything into the fridge. After that I need to catch up with a decent training session. Its really good to have my youngest daughter home for Christmas, its a shame her partner cannot be with us but we will put our energies into having an indulgent and restful time.

Wednesday, its about 9 o’clock and I ease myself out of bed and throw on some clothes. Breakfast next of course and morning meds. I put a load of washing in and attend to the various post that arrives. A parcel from my sister arrives safe and sound so I send her an email to let her know. Its a morning of bits and pieces. A friend has sent me a letter and a surprise present which I of course read over a cup of coffee, one of the true pleasures of life. By lunchtime I am ready for soup and feel a little more energised.

My partner goes to visit her mother and I start my afternoon jobs. Having hung my washing out I retrieve the camera from the garden adn check to see if it has captured anything worth a look. I discover that putting a baseball cap over the top of it to ward of water from the lens has backfired on me. The day time functions have worked but there is not a singe night capture. So all that I have is squirrels, wood pidgeons and next doors cat. I return the camera to the garden minus the baseball cap. Tomorrow I will check to see if the night function is working again. I change to train. Its a real pain in the arse having to change clothes so many times in a day when training, I understand why some people seem never to get out of their track suits. Of course some peoples fashion sense goes any further but I guess you just blag the fitness line. Any way I get into the garage and settle on the rower, today is going to be 30 minutes at a higher resistance level as I have Tesco delivering between 4 and o’clock. I get my ear phones in and on and start my row. It goes okay and I burn 400+ calories.

I change into my evening slob about clothes that tonight includes a Scottish ice hockey jersey and wait for Tesco to deliver. They rock up early so I have the joy of doing the unpacking and storing away. I send back the “all steak pie” that some one thought was a reasonable substitution for a pork pie but tidily store everything else. Once done I do a stock check of the reserve larder where I squirrel away some emergency supplies. Its not a doomsday bunker sort of thing more a sensible laying in of the stuff we use a lot of. Admittedly I sometimes screw up when I am ordering and include a “just in case” purchase that I know is going in the reserve larder. This is why I find we have three jars of marmalade. At least we are well sorted if Paddington visits.

My partner returns from her mothers and finds me starting to draft the blog. We will eat to tonight and watch the Sports Personality of the Year followed by Vienna Blood by the end of which I shall be knackered and need my bed. I am beginning to worry that the gift I have order from America is not going to arrive, which means I might be last minute Christmas shopping in person in real shops. That could be a real challenge. From what I can gather all my friends are experiencing pre Christmas perturbations in their plans or reaching a crescendo of preparation that is demanding high levels of spoon expenditure. I suspect that once Christmas arrives there may well be a lot of napping going on to recover.