Friday, I wake up after a reasonable night and check my cyber messages, mail and litter. With that done I check my vitals, all good there, and then what sport and programmes are on today. My partner brings me a hot water and then my final pre rising act is to book tickets for Carmen in April. With all that life admin done I get up and make myself breakfast, during which I check the blog and begin todays version. The world is then my oyster.

It is not long before I am hanging up my washing and then heading for the Shed to write more letters. The air is feeling chilly and I hunker down in the Shed and scribble away stopping only to get an apple to nibble and my seal ring to seal the letters. I pack up my things but before I leave the Shed I refill the bird and squirrel feeders. The trip to the post office tells me that it is getting colder. I post my letters, grab a paper and return home to do the crosswords. Today I am on form and flash through the crosswords without having to resort to Google. I note I am flagging and watch the quarter final of the snooker as I try to muster more spoons to get through the evening.

The evening arrives and there is no word from the book project team so I guess that will be that for the weekend. I dine with the family and then return to drafting the blog and watching the second snooker quarter final of the day. There is a choice of things to watch tonight and I am not sure what I will end up doing. I am bored drinking hot water so I get a selection box of teas out of the kitchen cabinet that was a present from a friend a long time ago and have a go a at one of the berry ones. It brings taste and a much appreciated change to my taste buds. I shall work my way through them and see what grabs my attention.

Already my attention has turned to tomorrow when with luck and a following wind my partner and I will go shopping for a new mattress. Neither of us can tolerate our current one any longer and we both agree we need a much firmer mattress. Shopping is not my favourite activity but needs must.

During today I re-read my two most recent poems that are rather dark and decided I would share one. I think it exemplifies how under my mundane life at the moment there is an undercurrent of cancer that continually flows and affects me.

I’ve just seen myself,
I’ve been written down on a form, 
“my terminally ill husband”.
Just when I thought I was getting away with it.
Of course, I’m not stupid, 
I know the score, 
My bladder and my gut
tell me everyday 
it’s getting worse. 
Pain when I piss, sometimes,
unpredictable bowel movements,
it’s all there,
written in the toilet,
where no one wants to go, 
least of all me.
I was scared enough as it was,
But now my not so secret,
Secret is out, 
I’m terrified. 
My drink of necessity is now hot water,
my food plain,
my hope draining away.
This is a terrible place to be,
I try to move and find I am pinned.
I flounder and thrash a little
as I try to see a poetry book through.
I try to fight, to see things happen,
to put up a good show,
but its miserable and 
I can’t help knowing it’s going to get worse.
Its stark and bony
like my poetry,
like stepping from light to dark. 
There is no argument to be had. 
This is how it is,
and yet I want to fight,
to struggle and to go on.
It seems rude not to,
a betrayal of the those that love me, 
So just one more poem, 
one more moment of trying 
to capture the moment, 
to be honest,
and to be alive.
Maybe, just maybe,
this is the side effects 
of Chemo and twenty-eight day jabs,
but palliative means “sorry mate,
your fucked.” 
But pity me at your peril,
I have pen and ink
and in these I have strength. 
I am scared but not defeated,
I will fight, 
I will find ways for little victories
before I go down,
I’ve not even reached 
the morphine stage yet.