Waking up alone in the house I set my heart on a village café breakfast. I clear the kitchen, set dishwasher going and set out to the shop for a paper with the intention of dropping into the café. It all went well until it came to the cafe. Ram packed with diners, not a chair anywhere so I trudged back home in the cold and rain. Back to muesli and yogurt and coffee and a distinct feeling of disgruntlement. Never has my gruntle been so dis. I sit and clear the desk in the office and sort out my blood form for tomorrow. It means that on Thursday or Friday I will get my latest PSA reading and some indication of how I have responded to chemo therapy. It’s been 43 days now since the 7^th of January, the last day of my last cycle. I’m intrigued to see how my numbers have held up or not over the past 43 days or so. The ridges in my nails due to the chemo are gradually growing out but still look quite claw like. Having done the crosswords and sent the work e-mails that I need to I am ready to go out. I empty the dishwasher and set it up for a cleaning cycle while my eldest daughter who has returned home eats a lunch and then I am ready to go out.

I take the Wolf to the garage to fill with petrol and to check the tyre pressures. So far the wretched weather that has flooded areas quite close to us has not affected us. It is against this eventuality that we keep the Wolf as it is our vehicle of escape given its high clearance, four wheel drive and High Drive capability. Should all the ways into the village become tricky we are relying on the Wolf to be able to drive out of trouble. With its tank full and tyres up to pressure I drive to the gym and change into my kit and put a track suit on to go to the bar and indulge in chicken Thai soups and a coffee.

I write letters, which I find a real relief as I can capture some of my observations and feelings. At the moment I am so aware of the flowers that are coming out in the garden, there is a profusion of colour at the moment. It feels as if spring has come really early this year. Every bulb that has been planted seems to have come up and is either flowering or about to. The colours of the crocuses and the primroses are brilliant, while the snow drops shine against the green background. I am wanting to get out in the garden and begin to tinker with the edgings and the bushes but it is after all still only mid-February and officially the winter, although it appears that no one told the garden. Thankfully it’s too bloody cold to get there for any length of time at the moment, so my current to do list is indoor focused at the moment. Tomorrow will also be the day that I will clean the fish out that will take my mind off the blood test and results for a while. So all of this kind of stuff finds its way into the letters, which will get sent once I’ve sealed them at home.

At the moment I am keeping busy trying not to give into the temptation of a snickers bar. In my efforts to shed weight I’ve given up sweets, biscuits, cake, buns and the other enjoyable things that used to live in the third draw down of the kitchen unit. Those and alcohol of course are off the menu for me, although occasionally I give in, as I did at the weekend when I scoffed a box of crystallised ginger that was left over from Christmas. It seems I am still having trouble with getting the weight down as I was back at 99.9 kilos on Sunday after a week of going out to dine at least twice. I am hopeful for this week despite the fact that we are going out for “pie night” on Friday with friends at the place we had our civil partnership.

So here I am at the gym lounge typing up the blog and wandering if I will get to see the European football on TV tonight. First I have to tackle the gym, my legs still ache from Sunday and I find it increasingly difficult to put in the effort required to burn the calories I would like to. I do not know if I am still recovering from the chemo or whether I’ve hit acritical age when my energy levels are lowering. Whatever it is it is frustrating. My major weapons against weight gain have always been giving up sweets and alcohol with increased exercise. The weight just rolled off but now it is proving stubborn to shift. I think in my head I think that if I could get my body looking half decent it might make up for the loss of my hair. It is a bizarre defence to think that if I can get the packaging right it won’t matter so much how crap the inside is. This of course is about control, power and self-determination. I cannot change or fight the cancer because it will do its own things, I have no control over it but I think I can control the body that it is in by taking control of my weight and my fitness. These are the few things that I can control so that when my efforts do not yield the expected results it is hard to keep motivated and the temptation is to give in and eat sweet stuff on the basis that it’s a comfort and “why shouldn’t I if I am going to die?” It’s very tempting at times and I know that people encourage me to be kind to myself and reassure me that one snickers isn’t going to kill me but I know me, once I start I will keep going so it’s always best just not to start. There is a bottom line of perhaps it will kill me, little indulgences accumulating to erode what control I do have. This battle “to have my time with you” is a life and death one and it matters that I can keep fighting it my way. So I shall get myself up on to the gym floor and pump out some more calories and keep the battle going. Later tonight I will reward myself with sofa and football time. I might even get some reading time.

So the gym went well enough, 773 calories and I got my 10,000 steps, its home now to eat and post the blog. I finish the existential cafe and watch Liverpool struggle in the football. It will be an early night for me.