Sunday, sleepy Sunday and I eventually get up, write my journal and make hot drinks. I return to bed and read for a while before I and my partner get up for breakfast. Food and morning meds is the next event followed by preparation to go to the beach. We set off down the beach and watch the body boarders and surfers. At the far end of the beach we decide to test out the new wind break and I set to and erect our new blue wind shelter. We settle in and watch the sea and read.

We sit and read until we are both hungry, another day we will bring a picnic. We wander back towards our apartment admiring others sandcastle efforts.

We make it back to the steps to our residential area and work the magic on the electronic gate.

We get back to our apartment and have a late lunch. We sink into watching the final throws of the European games. Gratifyingly the Brits seems to be doing very well across the board. Late afternoon becomes evening and the final throw of the athletics plays out. Night will fall as we eat, retire to read and await what tomorrow brings. Croyde is our oyster and tomorrow we will explore.

Saturday and I wake up about 9am and make warm drinks. I dig out a notebook from my bag and begin to write some notes on the holiday so far. My partner gets up and we have breakfast looking out over the sea. I stack the dishwasher and then spend a while figuring out how this one works. It has a delay timer on it and it takes a while to sort out what the numbers mean and get down to zero. So having finally got the wee beasty working my partner and I go for a walk into the main village of Croyde.

Its a pretty village surrounded by holiday sites and camping areas. It is clear that the surfing community is embedded in this village resort. We wander into the Saltrock store. I have fond memories of Saltrock clothing from my rollerblading days. My partner buys a new hoodie as the Weird Fish one she has is drying in the apartment after a spillage. Next stop the village post office where I load up with post cards and stamps, a paper and the inevitable extra toilet rolls. Pleased with our scouting mission we return to the apartment. I discover blood in my urine again. I’m so pissed off. My partner and I have a picnic lunch and then we go to the sunbeds to read for a while. Its a chilly wind so after a while we decide to explore a bit more. We wander towards Baggy Point and stop at the surf school café for hot chocolate and a pain au chocolat. The clouds roll in and we return to the apartment and relax catching up with the final days of the European games. An evening meal and then an early night is on the cards for me, perhaps a late walk to the beach. Meds adn bed.

Friday, going on holiday day. The packing is easy, the loading the car is easy, leaving a to do list for my eldest daughter, easy, the drive a bloody eight hour nightmare. Two brief stops and hours of drudging along in petrified queues of traffic, topped off with my satnav taking us down the smallest back roads in the final three miles, which delayed us even more. We finally arrive knackered. The car gets unloaded, the fridge filled and there is a brief beach walk to blow away the travel gremlins, which rewards with the first sunset. So its pizza, garlic bread, meds and bed for me tonight.

Thursday and again I wake up feeling sore and under the weather, decidedly groggy. I have a coffee and get orientated to the day. My partner is in meetings so picking up the car from its service will have to wait. I put my washing in and tidy up a bit until my partner can give me a lift to the garage. We go and collect the car and then return home. I go to the Shed and end up Spring cleaning my desk top as an ink filler had leaked on to it. I send some messages and then continue throwing out some unwanted old cases. My partner finishes work for the day and we go to do the holiday shopping. We get our vittles and then return via the petrol station to top up the tank and to check the tyres for tomorrows run down to Devon.

Once home the perishables get stashed in the fridge and I get my washing in. I feed the hedgehog and refresh the water bowl. I work my way towards training. A walk down to the village chemists and buy some holiday toiletries. On my return I change and go to the garage. Once on the rower I select my normal resistance and decide to do an half hour. I set off and I am able to keep quite a good rhythm. It goes well and it feels like I am getting fitter.

I am pleased with my effort and what it hopefully signals. There will be no training on holiday and probably too many holiday treats so its good to have a decent session at this stage. I record the session and answer a couple of messages and get ready for tea. I eat watching the European athletics and then start to draft the blog. I still have to pack for tomorrow and sort out Tesco for my eldest daughter to eat next week. It will be alright on the night, its one of those mysteries. As long as I have my notebooks and pens with me I shall be alright along with my Moomin books. It seems to me that my battle has entered a new phase. It feels as if I wake up feeling the effects of my medication more than I was but that I am beginning to regain some fitness. Its a strange phase, one in which I am struggling to lose weight, which I think is more about not training as hard as I used to in order to avoid triggering passing blood, so I have to be patient with my self and persevere for the long term.

Wednesday and its car service day so its up early and a quick coffee. I drive to the garage following my partner who gives me a lift back. I make breakfast and watch more European athletics, diving and climbing. My injection site remains sore and the insistent nagging discomfort makes maintaining motivation to be active difficult. The morning goes by until my partner makes us lunch and then she goes off to see her mother. Rather than sit around and wait to collect the car I decide to train. It needs to be an hour so I get myself ready and go to the garage. I set the rower to my usual resistance and get going. Its a good hour and I manage to get over the 14 kilometre mark and burn more than 900 calories. This is a good session, mind you a year ago I set a personal best of over 15 kilometres and burnt over 1000 calories, which goes to show how much more fitness I have to regain.

I get out of my kit and check the garage closing time and start to draft the blog. My partner gets caught up in traffic so does not get back in time to get to the garage to collect my car, so its a chore that gets pushed in to tomorrow morning. The evening meal follows against the background of European athletics and Shetland. I feed the hedgehog and clean the feeding station, which prompts me to order more food to sustain the hog while I am away. I finish the drafting of the blog and then prepare for tomorrow. A growing list of chores before holiday is developing and I need to train at some point and I have letters to write. The evening will end as ever with me taking my meds and hoping for a good nights sleep.

Tuesday and I wake up in the spare room after a crap nights sleep, its day 2 of jab time so I wake up very sore and this morning I feel very “woolly”. I get coffee and a peanut bagel for breakfast and then stare into space for a while. I decide I need to do something so I decide to give the ancestor’s spirit house its annual coat of protective stain. So I gather up my materials and get out to the house. It sits to the side of the porch and contains three figures. This came from seeing all the houses in Thailand with their ancestor houses. For them it is where their ancestors spirits live and where they honour their ancestors.

Within the house a set of three monks live and they get an annual clean and replacement in the house.

Once the house is repainted and dry the boys are returned home.

I put things away and then I go to the Shed and settle down to send messages to friends and to write a letter. Lunch is chicken soup on the patio and a chat with my partner as we chat about preparations for going on holiday on Friday. I wander over to the post box still feeling very sore but a little less woolly. On my return I look for something else to occupy me, a diversion, so I set about throwing the remnants of my professional life away. All those folders from conferences, CPD events and training courses attended and delivered need to go. I dig out the bags and go through them and retain only the actual qualification certificates and attendance acknowledgements. After a lot of ripping and tearing I have things sorted into piles. I load the remnants of my professional life into the recycle bin and squirrel away the certificates and recycled folders. Its all part of the transition and letting go of the past, not easy but necessary if I am not to waste my time and to get on with my life. Only the people will remain, which is as it should be.

Its late afternoon and I decide that feeling crap or not I need to train. I change into my kit and go to the garage. I’m feeling defiant and up the resistance level a notch. I do thirty minutes at the increased level and still manage over 6000 meters and burn in excess of 400 calories. One thing the greater resistance produces is a higher heart rate so its a good workout.

The session gets recorded and then I start the blog draft until tea time. My evening may have live football in it but it will also have athletics in it. Hopefully this will be the last day I will need to take paracetamol before bed. Tomorrow is a practical day as the car is being serviced so I need to wake up feeling chipper.

Monday, jab Monday, so its up and shower, before making my way to the GP surgery. Clutching the box with the jab in I sit in the waiting room until the nurse calls mem in. I remind her that the right side is the one that gets the sorest. She looks for a new place which has less of the lumps that this jab creates. She finds a spot and slowly pumps the jab into me. Once done she turns her attention to my left arm where she gives me a B12 shot.

I go home and watch European sport and make myself one of my comfort foods, a fried egg sandwich! I eat and try to get myself motivated. I fail, I am just aware of the sore lump in my gut so take more paracetamol. A friend phones and we chat about her experience of selling her house and buying a new bungalow. We finish our call when her golf partner arrives. I continue to watch sport and prepare for the Tesco delivery. Tesco turn up on tine and there is a floury of activity followed by a period of squirreling. There is no avoiding the need to train so I down some more paracetamol and climb into my kit. I decide that 30 minutes at my usual resistance will do. It goes okay.

I change out of my kit and rest for a bit and then collect the garden camera and see if the hedgehog has been about. It would seem that the hog is being more active recently so there are quite a lot of day time pictures of him/her.

Its time for tea, more athletics and drafting the blog but all the time I am aware that I am getting “dopier” and more sore. Its the usual jab day progression, so by the time I go to bed it will feel grim. On occasions I stay up on these nights till I am vey tired and then I get some sleep. so it could be a long night.

Sunday, its hot again and its only about 9 o’clock. On getting up I weigh myself, the weekly ritual by which I measure my progress in the battle with my weight. I weigh in at 96.8 kilos. A slight reduction, which I think reflects the less vigorous exercise regime I am doing. The inclusion of swimming is good in terms of widening the form of exercise but it is less calorie burning, or it is at the moment the way I am currently swimming it is. I make my partner a drink and take it up to her. No one feels much like eating so its a simple bagel breakfast and then we all go our ways to spend a Sunday resting. I sit on the patio and read the end of Finn Family Moomintroll and on completion I read The Exploits of Moominpapa. Apart from a brief lunch of ham sandwich I continue to read. I do root around in the shed to get the sun lounger out so my partner can laze and snooze in the afternoon sun.

Apart from a bit of Shed tidying and compost management the afternoon is all reading. The evening comes around and the evening meal accompanied by the first prophylactic paracetamol dose for tomorrows monthly injection. I clear the kitchen, clear the washing from the garden, feed the hedgehog, put the sun lounger away in the shed and fold away the sun shade on the patio whilst clearing the area as the weather forecast is saying it is going to rain tomorrow and there is a weather warning issued based on the likelihood of thunderstorms in the next 48 hours. I watch Van Der Valk and draft the blog feeling terse and irritable in anticipation of tomorrows injection. Its the tricky end of the cycle especially when the jab is on the right side. In my head that is where I can feel carrying my cancerous prostate. Illusion or accurate perception, I am not sure, but the fact is the right side injection is always the one which creates the most inflammation and discomfort. Hence my pre injection tightness. So I shall end the evening with meds, more paracetamol and with a bit of luck sometime to myself. Tomorrows challenge is to train.

Saturday and it is a slowish start but finally gets going with a bacon sandwich and meds. My partner goes to have her hair done and while she is away I clean the house. This means that she does not have to use her injured wrist pushing the hoover around and gives it a chance to heal properly. So in the hours it takes to get hair done I go through the house until I am high on Mr Sheen and ready for a rest. I sit on the patio and read Comet in Moominland. By the time my partner returns I am on to Finn Family Moomintroll. We go to the garden centre to replenish our salad supplies and food for the evening meal.

On returning home I continue to read Finn Family Moomintroll, indulge in a yogurt and then contemplate training. Its hot, very hot but training cannot be put aside because its hot. Its back to the old argument that while cancer does not take a day off I can’t. So I change in to my gear and go to the garage and get on the rower. I decide that I will do an hour at my normal resistance level as tomorrow is weigh in day and my one rest day of the week. Its hot so I start off at a slow pace adn gradually get going as my body warm to the task. I have my ear buds in and listen to Brentford playing Manchester United. To my amazement Brentford take a 4 nil lead by half time, a score they maintain to the end. I toil in the heat and in the end do a reasonable session. For me its always about how many calories I burn as it is this that is the crucial side of the calories in and calories out balance that is key to my part of controlling my weight. Anything over 750 calories for an hours effort is a good outcome.

I finish my session and change before the evening meal. My evening is all sport, clearing the kitchen, feeding the hedgehog and drafting the blog. Tomorrow is the start of my cycle, it means pre-emptive paracetamol in readiness for Mondays injection. This cycle is the one that sees the jab go into my right side, which is the one that responds less well and tends to stay sore for longer. The elements of being alive in this situation makes a strange jigsaw. I am still not sure I have the pieces in the right place.

Friday and I wake up quite late after a disturbed night again, a combination of heat, meds and head. Its sunny and hot again as I get my breakfast and settle down to it thinking about what I am going to do for the day. The post man arrives unusually early, I guess he is starting early to avoid the heat of the day, and delivers a treat to me. As I was so taken with the one that was sent to me as a present I have indulged myself and bought a collection of the Moomin books. I have a friend who swears they are philosophy books and not the children’s book they masquerade as. I’m inclined to agree. Of course I Google what order I should read the books in and discover that different people recommend different orders so I decide I will read them in order of publication. So I put the books in order and then label them with numbers so I know where I am.

I realise that some of the stories are missing but hopefully I will fill in the blanks as time goes on. Of course I start reading Comet in Moominland. The morning flies by and I realise I need to exercise. I drive to the gym and go for my second swim of the week. The swimming is a challenge, not so much the swimming, once I am in the pool the feel of water and the ability to swim comes back to me easily. What is difficult is that I cannot hide my body. When I use the gym I am covered up but when I swim the body that I find more and more difficult to live with is exposed. I realise that others may not notice but my misshapen non functioning body but I am very aware of how uncomfortable I feel with a body that I used to have confidence in. A body that I could train, sculpt and keep fit but now the cancer treatment has changed all that. I need the type of exercise that swimming offers me to avoid some of the side effects other forms of exercise at times bring me. So going for a swim is now a challenge an turns me into some one who scuttles out of the pool to shower in a very self conscious way. As part of my swim I always spend 10 minutes in the steam room, a good place to hide. I shower and drive home straight away, no longer do I stop for coffee, food or time to reflect.

Once home I find that a friend has been round to look at the floor in our office and come to the conclusion that the “tile tenting” is not due to any water incursion. I have lunch and ring the friend, who will ring me later. I put chicken in the oven to have with a salad in the evening and then retreat to the garden seat and continue to read. I’m joined by my eldest daughter and we chat about her studies and things in general. Tea time arrives and I watch some European swimming and athletics. I feed the hedgehog. The dishes are empty from last night. That was an adventure as I went out late to feed the hedgehog and found the hog actually in the feeding station, no doubt peeved that the dish was empty. The hog let me take the empty dish and replace it with a full one. I popped the lid back on and left the hog to it. It was the first close up encounter with the hog. Tonight I am earlier so there is no sign of the hog apart from the empty food dishes. I return in doors, clear the kitchen and draft the blog well into the evening. I return to my new books and wend my way towards the evening meds and bed.