Monday and I am up early enough to get to the GP surgery as it opens to explain that I have not ordered my injection. I rearrange the appointment for next Monday. I go home have breakfast and then return to the problem of the website that continues not to respond. As the morning goes on I get more exasperated, thoroughly pissed off by lunchtime I consume soup and head for the garden. The squirrel is being busy, so I clean out the feeding box and top it up with peanuts. I check the Fort Hog and find the food gone so replenish it. I then check the garden camera. Not a hog in sight for a couple of weeks now. So who or what is eating the food. I have a lot of pictures of next doors cat but no evidence that it can get into Fort Hog to get the food. Perhaps rodents and hibernation are the explanation.

I return to the pesky website and send uncomplimentary feedback. I then wrestle with the configuration and finally the site starts to play ball, I finish off yesterday’s blog and post it before starting on todays. I feel so frustrated as I have yet to train. I had hoped for today to be a good day and to have quality Shed time and write something, instead I will go grumpily to the garage and let Rocket lose on the rower. It is amazing how malfunctioning tech can whittle away a day and make me feel that I have wasted a day. There are odd moment of distraction such as a postcard from a friend on holiday in France and my partner setting the window cleaner right about how crap they were last time. I hope to retrieve my day this evening despite the Tesco delivery. It would appear that losing weight and crap technology induces a sense of humour bypass in me.

Sunday and I wake up and idly lay there until I suddenly realise that I have not ordered my injection for tomorrow morning. There is a burst of self-directed abuse and then I set about ordering my drugs. They will not arrive in time, so I need options. Firstly, it might be possible to locate a Firmagon injection at a chemist. I look for possible candidates, Boots seems the most likely, opening at 11 o’clock. Cutting it fine as we are dining out at 1 o’clock. The other option is to rebook it for next Monday, a week won’t kill me. No predicting how quickly the drugs will turn up at the village chemist and I ‘m away on Wednesday to York so a push on to next Monday will do the job. All I have to do is pop down the GP tomorrow morning and explain the situation and own up to being a twat.

I next head to the bathroom where I lighten myself as much as possible before stepping onto the scales. This is crunch time, the first battle of the new Rocket era.



99.6 kilos! a drop of 2.4 kilos. Oh yes! I knew I could depend on Rocket. This the first battle won. Now to move on in the campaign. 90 kilos by Christmas.

Time for breakfast and an attempt to ring my youngest daughter. Call goes through but she is on a treadmill at the gym and will ring us back later. My partner, eldest daughter and I get ready to go to a friend’s house for Sunday lunch. At the appointed hour I drive my clan to our friends arriving unfashionably early. We are wined and dined wonderfully with eastern delights and then plied with cheeses, grapes and biscuits before being really cuisinely pampered with fresh coffee, chocolates and mints. A delicious way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It’s a real pleasure to chat, catch up and exchange stories, observations and ideas. The afternoon just disappears and all too soon itis time for us to leave. I drive us home in time for the Strictly results show. The rest of the evening for me is battling with the blog platform that will not save anything. I am increasingly frustrated and irritated, and I chunter during the TV background of SAS Rogue Heroes, which increasingly matches my homicidal miffedness as the techno problems persist. In the end I give up, there is clearly a problem at their end. I take my meds and go to bed knowing that tomorrow I will have to return to the dodgey website and also put an effort into training to counteract today’s chocolate indulgence. (This was finally completed on a wet Monday afternoon after much hassle with the website provider.

Saturday and I wake early to see if the England women’s rugby match is on ITV hub yet. It’s not. I make warm drinks and take them back to bed where my partner and I do our Saturday morning catch up. Breakfast follows and we talk Christmas presents. I watch a rugby match but by half time It’s clear that England are running away with it, so my partner and I go vegetable shopping at the local garden centre. Back home there are more rugby matches to watch until it is no longer possible to avoid doing two things: one, feed the hedgehog and, two, train.

The hedgehog had eaten some of its food, so I replenish the dish and return to the house where I go to the rower in the garage. I’ve got more layers on than usual as the garage is cold and I intend to row slowly. I still have anxieties after yesterday’s blood post training, so I am being tentative as I go into the session. I have the radio on and set out slower for my half hour at my normal resistance level. It goes okay but I am feeling tired and looking forward to my rest day tomorrow.

I record the session in my food and training journal before changing into my evening slob around clothes and settling in front of the TV for Strictly and an early evening. All around is the sound of fireworks as the local community celebrate a tragic failure and occasionally, we get a free burst of bright lights and sparks. I wonder what the hedgehog makes of it. It will be an early night for me in readiness for my Sunday weigh in. I am desperate for it to be below 99 kilos. If I mange that I might allow myself to indulge in a treat when out for lunch with friends tomorrow. Whatever happens it will be a rest day.

Friday and I wake up late, very late and I feel like I am suffering from Poo Bear fluffy head. I think my tendency to sleep deeper in the morning becomes more pronounced when I am nearing the end of my 28-day cycle. I get up and drift around in my Merlin robe for a while making myself an egg roll breakfast with my now regular fresh coffee. Eventually I get myself dressed and check my social media and do a few bits of life admin. It’s getting close to lunch time and my partner is on her way to the physiotherapist to continue her course of treatment. A friend rings who I have not had a chat with for ages. It is really good to catch up and to hear how she is doing and how her family is faring. Life with a young family is always challenging and things come up fast and furiously, so it was good to hear my friend energised.

My daughter goes off into town and I make a run for it to the gym. I’m not feeling enthusiastic about it, but I get myself out of the house. I fill the car and check the tyres on the way to the gym, where I change and get up onto the gym floor. I get a cross trainer, dial in my 45 minutes, my weight and my resistance level (11), and then set off with Rammstein in my ears and wheelchair rugby league on the screen. So, the 45 minutes passes followed by the 5-minute warm down. I have burnt 525 calories over 5.33 kilometres. It’s a reasonable session, I do not push hard, it’s the equivalent of a jog. I walk around the gym floor two or three times to warm down then head for the changing rooms. I pop into the toilet for a quick pee and find I am passing blood. I am not amused, it’s clear that whatever is going on the cross trainer needs to be dropped. In future if I’m going to the gym, it will be for a swim. I shower feeling a bit glum and then change. I retreat to the lounge and order a large americano and a large bottle of water. I drink the coffee and then head for home.

Once home I put my washing in, hang my towel up to dry and then go to feed the hedgehog. Fort Hog reveals that my hog has eaten but not all the food and I wonder if Hog is tapering down to hibernation. I bring my partners car back onto the drive and then settle down to relax and rest. My next piss still has blood in it, I drink more water. My partner makes tea, and we sit and eat with the wild extravagance of the gas fire on for a few minutes. We try to continue to watch a series on i-player, but it keeps dropping out. I start to draft the blog and resign myself to a quiet evening before Have I got News for You and the historical Mock the Week. I am disconcerted and angry with my body, it’s going to take longer to get fit and lose the weight. It gets tough earlier than I thought so now it’s time to be creative and adapt. Rocket has his work cut out but that’s what he is there inside me for.

Thursday and I wake early as my partner is going into work. I laze for a little while with my phone in bed and deal with my social media, a very quick exercise these days. I’m up thinking protein but resort to muesli again and fresh coffee. I suspect I go for muesli as I add honey to it, the only sweet stuff that now enters my body. Dishwasher unloaded and loaded again I prepare to go to the Shed. Once in my haven I turn the heater on for a bit of a blast and then get on with my life admin tasks that I had set myself. By lunchtime I was well organised and feeling peckish. In a moment of indulgence and protein craving I walk to the village cafe and down a sausage and bacon baguette while doing a crossword. Its and old habit that I had not indulged for a while. I enjoyed it but it remains an indulgence now. Back home I chatted with m eldest daughter for a while and then thought about training. My back still aches but a deal with Rocket is a deal, so I changed into my training gear and headed for the rower in the garage. Today was to be a half hour session but at my usual resistance level. Its chilly (winter chilly) but I have Rammstein in my ears and so I get going. It’s hard but I get a decent session in. Over 400 calories burnt over more than 6 kilometres.

Before I can rest there is the hog to feed, so I go and check Fort Hog. Some of the food has gone so I replenish the dish with fresh food and replace the roof on the canteen. I finally get back into the lounge to record my session and down 750cc of water. My partner returns home from work felling like she has been “pupped” all day. Now that it is a rare occurrence for people to go into the workplace there is a lot of rubbing noses to be done adn if you’re a manager your nose gets rubbed more than most. I settle down to draft the blog while tea is being prepared. Tonight, I am giving my eldest daughter a lift to “silks” where she has promised to film herself. A friend’s daughter is keen on circus skills and so I said I would ask my daughter if she would do a quick video of her doing silks or hoop. So that’s tonight’s deal. I drive her to silks, wait and then drive her back. The rest of my evening will be football and an early night, as I intend to go to the gym tomorrow to get a cross trainer session in and Rocket needs his sleep.

Wednesday and I wake up fuzzy, the result of my meds so it takes a while to get going, but when I do I breakfast on muesli and fresh coffee. Today I thought I would try to exercise early and decided to go to the gym and use a cross trainer. I drove to the gym and was soon stepping out on a cross trainer. I no longer have a working Fitbit or equivalent, so I am in the dark about steps at the moment but more importantly I cannot check my heart rate post session. When it comes down to it, I guess it doesn’t matter the important thing is to just do it.

The session went okay. Fifty minutes on the cross trainer which netted me 518 calories burnt over 5.19 kilometres. I go to the changing rooms and sit and recover before indulging in a warm shower. I post shower rest and I chill by brushing my hair, finally dressing in my new giant size pants to avoid too tight fashionable ones. I sit in the lounge and drink a vast americano and eat a bacon and egg Brioche roll for lunch while reading Reaper Man. It is surprisingly touching and touched the odd nerve. The Prostate Awareness crew were in the lounge and said hello to me as I walked past them on the way in. They did not approach me while I sat in the lounge post session. I had a quick look to see if they had any of those nice man badges for prostate cancer, but they did not. Had they had the odd one to hand out I might have flashed my Gleeson score and claimed a freebie, but it was not to be. I drove home to my afternoon chore of mending the bathroom light.

What a pain the arse that turned out to be. I needed to relay some loft boards to get to where I needed to be. That of course did not go smoothly, these things never do. so, after much tool usage and swearing I finally get to the light fitting and work my magic. The bloody thing still would not work until I changed the bulb and then suddenly life was good. By this time I am truly knackered and as I gather up my tools I twinge my back, which elicits a very load yelp and an even louder “Bugger me”. Slowly I put my tools away and drive myself to go adn check Fort Hog. It dark by now and pissing with rain, so I’m not a little grumpy. The hog has fed so I replace his/her food and then retreat to the house and settle down to a well-earned cold non-alcohol beer. I start to draft the blog and whilst doing so my partner and then her friend arrives. They go out in the pouring rain to a local pub for pie night while I will improvise with my eldest daughter and watch football. Toady has been a reasonable second Rocket Day, I’ve trained, not eaten sweets or biscuits and beavered away in the loft. It is going to have to be enough for today. I have the joy of seeing friends for a meal at the weekend and next week I am going to York to catch up with my mentor and coffee with old colleagues. That is far as I am willing to think right now. Christmas will have to wait a bit, these are Rocket days.

Tuesday and it’s not as good as it gets gain any more. I had my oncology review today. My PSA has doubled but the oncologist does not want to use any of his other tricks (if he has got any that is), until we make sure that the last one is actually not working, so he doesn’t want to base a change on one result. I agree, as I do not want to burn my way through the options too quickly. He recognised my worsening response to my injections but has nothing to offer on that front. Thats the way it is. So, we agreed on a fresh face to face review at the beginning of January giving time for two new sets of blood tests and a new scan. He who made a pact with the devil is no one’s fool and identified some of my worsening symptoms as me slacking on my exercise and diet. Bastard too clever for his own good if you ask me, but he is right. So, it’s not as good as it gets anymore because I’ve slacked and that has to change. Exercise, diet and lifestyle are the things I can control and so it’s time to up the effort. It’s time for Rocket the symbol I use to psychologically think about how I mobilise my resources against cancer to take front and centre stage. From now and till the next oncology review its Rocket days. I will be fitter; I will be much lighter than the 99.3 kilos I weighed in at on Sunday and I will eat a healthy diet, the one of my choosing. Above all I will exercise. I have two months to do this and to demonstrate that I can still make the act of will that takes me forward. The same will that quit smoking, dragged dyslexia to two degrees, ran marathons and forged a career that supported a family. It starts now.

After the review call, I went to the Shed, filled the squirrel feeder and then settled down to write a letter and a new to do list. This was all done as the rain poured down incessantly. I dashed to the house at lunch time to have soup with my partner. I returned to the Shed to feed the hedgehog. The food from yesterday was still there but I replaced it with fresh anyway, because my hog deserves the best. I put the bin out for collection and posted my letter before getting ready to train. I decided that I was not going to pussy foot around with half an hour and went straight to a 45-minute session on my cruise level. It was a reasonably good session for a first one back after eleven days. I only have to miss a couple of days and I put on weight and lose fitness. Of course, I have Rammstein loud in my ears.

I record my session and then draft the blog before the evening meal. My evening will be football and reading before a reasonable early night as I intend to see if I can get myself up for training at the start of the day. That in itself is a challenge, but then these are Rocket days now.

Monday and its Halloween, I wake up feeling decidedly “off”. I make breakfast and coffee and retreat to the Shed as quickly as possible. I spend all morning writing letters and messages. My partner goes off at lunchtime to do some shopping. On her return we lunch on soup and fresh sausage roll. It gives me a chance to read the two new letters that have arrived. A real luxury to have two letters in one day. I’ve struggled all morning with feeling unwell, energy low and I think anxious about tomorrow’s oncology review. My latest blood test results with the doubling of my PSA level have rattled me more than I realised.

I return to the Shed and continue to write and prepare messages. I recover some equilibrium and calm down a bit. I go to the post box and send the household letters on their way. Before closing up the Shed for the day I feed the hedgehog. It is already getting dark as the first day of winter daylight starts to fade. I change in to my comfortable all in one blanket and read the gas and electricity meters. I duly send the figures off via the phone app and note that we seem to have a very large sum in credit. I suspect that it will erode quickly over the next six months. The practicalities out of the way I give myself time to think about tomorrow’s oncology review. I write a list of items to share and to ask about. I suspect I will be listened to but at best I think they will agree to scan me again and see me in two months rather than four. It all depends on whether or not the team think they have any options left. When I was making my new training and diet journal, I was numbering the days to match the blog days but when I got to tomorrow, I stopped. It may be that I am about to enter a period of it not being “as good as it gets” and I may have another period of having my fingers crossed, or something else. So, tomorrows blog maybe titled differently.

My evening goes from the news to more rugby and drafting the blog, I shall hope for sleep tonight.

Sunday, clocks gone back as I get up to try and watch rugby on ITV Hub. No joy, the match is not there. I weigh myself and find instant depression in 99.3 kilos. Coffee and put the clocks back, fill the soap dispenser in the bathroom and then back to bed. Get up again and sort out the hub and watch the English women beat Australia after croissants and more coffee. My partner goes to the gym, I clear the kitchen, clean the shower head and then watch more rugby, followed by American football, followed by more rugby. Apart from sending some pallet information to a friend, feeding the hedgehog and put my washing away I’ve done bugger all today. Actually, not quite true as I have started a new diet and training journal. The highlight of my evening was the Tesco delivery and a delicious beef crockpot.

This has been a day to retrieve my balance, to be mindless for a day and calm down. Tomorrow starts my now familiar re-boot of diet and exercise. I shall start out yet again as regardless of what happens at my oncology review on Tuesday I need to exercise and lose weight. Time to grind again.

Saturday, and I wake up and process my blood results which I gathered after midnight last night. I did not sleep well as a result.

Overall, they are reasonable. The increased Urea is slightly raised and reflects either too much protein or not enough hydration, so drinking water and staying hydrated will sort that. I’ve been there before, and it has always responded to hydration. My eGFR or kidney function although below the normal 60 level is good for me at 57 given my history of kidney failure in 2019, so I am cool about it and think that it is okay. The real kicker is the rising PSA from 0.8 to 1.6 in four months. It is flagged as an alert on the results platform. I’m disappointed but at root I knew that sooner or later this was likely to happen. It makes my review on Tuesday more “sharp”. We will certainly have something to talk about. One thing that has surprised me is my rise in platelets to 171 a rise of 22. It’s been a while since I’ve so comfortably been in the normal range for this, no idea why.

I watch some women’s world cup rugby, eat the bacon sandwich my partner makes for me and drink fresh coffee. I draft the first section of the blog and get myself up for the ordinary of the day like shopping for vegetables and more bacon. I feel myself withdrawing and processing so I may or may not add to this day’s blog or not.

My day was quiet as I felt my way through the feelings about my blood results and the rising PSA level. It’s a difficult time, I am anxious, more anxious than I usually am, and I find myself rereading information about my treatment. If my medication has stopped working, then there needs to be a rethink. The problem I have is that I am not sure I trust the oncology service to pick this up with any sense of urgency. I am also frustrated and angry with myself for losing my exercise and diet discipline. Yet again I must start out again and focus on reducing my weight. Tomorrow I will weigh in and then move on.