Monday was jab day, which I got up early for. Apart from some necessary food shopping and life admin I did very little waiting for the after effects of my Dexarelix injection to kick in, which it did late afternoon. The nurse had trouble getting it all into me today, which did not bode well, but a slow day and some paracetamol seemed to have eased the process. By the time the evening came around I had idly written my Christmas cards and this included a very brief “this is how the family are” letter. Not something I would usually do, but for some reason I thought it worth the effort as I had already received a couple that were quite up lifting and not the usual Christmas strophes of doom that I had become used to over the years. So I ended the day with my meds and and probably too much TV, in particular Blindspot, a very American series with far too many adverts. The episodes last 40 minutes of which I swear 50% is adverts, clearly the “show” is no more than an advertising vehicle, which reflects the Americans ability to pat attention to anything. A truly goldfish race.
Tuesday saw me being a slug as my after effects of yesterdays jab were at there worse. A brave would have trained but the cowardly me got the better of me and after breakfast I spent time wrapping some Christmas goodies. It was a day of “Puttering” and doing the fiddly odd jobs like mending my fitness band and when failing ordering new ones. It was a major discovery that my fitness tracker can be popped out of its wrist band and popped back into a new one. The new ones wrist bands can come from Amazon and are as cheap as chips so needless to say a ordered a job lot. I spent a lot of time casting around for Christmas presents for the family but I keep running into my lack of creativity to find something that goes beyond the “socks and smellies” category. I did update my Excel spread sheet of my vitals in preparation for the following days oncology review. My arithmetic is good, better than its been for while and overall I am functioning pretty well. I am thankful for the messages and occasional phone calls that I get, which encourage me. The day progresses with a quick trip to the post office and the doing of the daily crosswords before an early evening football match and meal. The rest of the evening is more Blindspot, but I am loosing interest init. There are six series and I am only half way through series two, and predictably the script writers are running out of viable and believable story lines so that it falls into the realm of the ridiculous, much like NCIS and other American series. Of course we in England would never do such a thing like that as demonstrated by Midsommer Murders, Father Brown, The Sweeney, Morse, Poirot, not to mention Peaky Blinders, Up Stairs Downstairs and Bridgerton. Time for night meds comes around and I take myself off to bed hoping for good nights sleep.
Wednesday arrives and I wake feeling quite chipper, I take my vitals, have breakfast and up date my blood pressure spread sheet. There is some elementary chores to do before I sit down to catch up on drafting the blog while I wait for “he who made a pact with the devil” to ring me for my oncology review. Its likely to lightening fast and my prediction is that he will give me three more cycles of of my chemo therapy pills and see me about Easter time. When I look at myself compared to his other patients I guess I am a success and a low maintenance one. Perhaps I will send him my “The Cancer Years” series as a Christmas present. This reminds me that I need to wrap my next poem for the poetry Stanza meeting later in the month, they have been really helpful over the past year so I’m going to gift them my collections. What else would a self obsessed vanity poet do? It also prompts me to get back to writing and proper reading. But for now I wait for the oncologist to ring.
“He who made a pact with the devil” finally rings. It is by far the shortest review in history. Me, “I am fine, my PSA is going down, my blood pressure is good, I am on minimal meds, I’m training again and my Dupuytrens Contracture is being operated on by your friends Dr U, who sends his regards, on the 30th of January. ” That took thirty seconds. My Oncologist “Good I’ll see you in 12 weeks and prescribe you three more cycles, give my regards to my Dr U, anything else?” Me; “no”. Oncologist: “Good, have good Christmas and see you in twelve weeks, goodbye”. click. In all no more than 180 seconds. Session went as predicted. I am promoting myself to star patient. Given all the other people he sees who must be in dire straights and present in a really distressing manner, who must be a nightmare to deal with I am a doodle. Come January this year I will have survived for six years, given that the original arithmetic suggested 26th months I am doing doing really well so my self presented accolade of star patient is well deserved. A friend sent me a poster thing that sums up where I am at.
With the review over and another three months of cancer pills ensured I finally get to go to the post office to send my Christmas cards. The piddling sized post box that this village has is really inadequate but I manage to get my cards in and then get contraband from the shop, retuning home to continue drafting the blog whilst sipping comforting Lucozade and marvelling at the shrinkflation of Rolos. I am sure that even as a child a whole tube of Rolos would have made me throw up but these sad modern day Rolos pose no problem at all. My partner has returned from the solicitors where she signed her Will, something that has been on the general family to do list for a while. She makes us lunch and goes off to see her mother while I begin to audit how my Christmas organisation is going. In passing I would note that it is ten years to the day that I became an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church, a fact that Brother Walter reminded me of in his Greeting Rev R W email. It is ten years since that day when I became an ordained priest and holder of a Doctorate of Divinity. I remember it well, it was an afternoon when I was bored and seeking distraction when I came across the Universal Life Church that is open to all regardless of belief or non belief. It was the same afternoon that I bought my Louisville Slugger Baseball Bat, which I use to this day to open the loft and for it to provide a comforting presence lounging potently in a bedroom recess close to hand in case of a home invasion. Armed with my metal Billi club torchlight and the faithful Slugger I’m pretty sure the household is secure. Anyway, depending on where I am in the world I could, if so moved, conduct weddings, funerals and any of the other rituals that church’s do. I have my certificates but I have stopped short of buying vestments and wedding packs, but if things get financial tight I might start my own YouTube based congregation based on the efficacy of Tithing. Perhaps I should buy a camper van and start Barnstorming around Britain, exalting people to give generously to the cause of Kindness and my petrol bill. Alas I fear I might have left it too late.
I move on in my Christmas admin and preparation whilst drafting the blog until my partner return home and we settle in for the evening, she to zoom meet with a friend and me to watch football or rubbish TV before night meds and scampering off to bed. I am feeling more chipper and tomorrow will train again in earnest and start my serious run into Christmas.
