Monday and the day is wet and grey, I really do not wan to get up. I do my vitals and follow my partner down to breakfast after a shower. So today I am going into town with my partner as she buys a new phone. Having parked up and found the O2 shop we spend a long time with a very helpful assistant as we play dub and ignorant punter and ask a lot of questions. He takes us through the process which ends up with my partner getting the phone she wants on a cheaper plan. The real arse ache is that they will no longer do the data transfer in the shop as they cannot risk being accused of a data breach, so the transfer will have to happen at home following a crib sheet that they have given us. Sounds tricky to me but it will be my partner who does it. With a new phone tucked under the arm we head for the Apple shop to check my partners password to be met with a resounding, “sorry we can’t do that but here’s the number you need to ring to do it”. So the telephone sales guy who told us to pop into Apple because they can do it easily was talking bollocks.

We decide to snack while in town adn go to one of our favourite little cafes. Its is packed out and we just manage to squeeze onto the last table. It is neither as quaint or nice as I remember it. We order , chat and devour before heading home. I skip to the Post Office and send the Sweden box off to my son. When it will get there will all depend on how long Swedish customs feel they need to hold socks, jumper and a rain jacket. I guess it all depends on how paranoid they get about kids clothing. Last time it took them weeks for a football shirt and a pair of goal keeping gloves.

Once home I settle down to do the days crosswords, which I complete with out the aid of Google, so it is a good day. I unwrap the new external door mats and deploy them at the back door and then stare into space for a bit before trying to hunt down the Christmas cards I ordered, in the end I reorder them as I can find no record of ever paying for any to arrive. My spoons are ebbing away and I find myself drifting into the evening meal of risotto before starting to draft the blog. My partner is at her singing lesson tonight, and as time goes on we both get more twitchy that the phone to phone data transfer via the cloud may not be going to plan. All we can do is to wait and see what happens. I feel a perturbation coming on.

What ever happens I shall wend my way through the evening to the taking of my meds and a retreat to bed hoping that I can renew my spoon account for tomorrow and do all the packing and organising for the drive to the Spa on Wednesday for a well earned luxury break to celebrate my partners birthday.

There is very little to say about this day other than the fact that I’ve done a lot of Christmas puttering today. For the first time I have drafted a Christmas letter and made it as positive as I could. The good news of the day was that I weighed in at 99.9 kilos, so that’s my first weight goal reached.

My second thing of the day was to train late in the day. I did a 45 minute session before the Strictly results show. I had been feeling decidedly off the last couple of days so training was an effort both of mind and body. It was an okay session that will see me through the next couple of days.

The rest of the day was rugby, Strictly, TV and a bit more Christmas puttering, however I forgot to adjust my Tesco order so it will be interesting to see what gets delivered on Monday. The blog gets drafted, my meds get taken and I take myself to bed.

Friday and I am not sure how my day started other than I went through my waking routine and took my vitals as usual. As the household was at work I walked down to the village café for a bacon and sausage baguette and a decaf coffee. Having bought a paper on the way I dawdled in the café till I had finished the days crosswords. Once home there was some Christmas puttering to be done, I ‘m trying to have everything under control by December, even some of the wrapping has been done. I get the strong sense that I am not alone in this, friends tell me that they are doing the same and the general rush at the shops seems to confirm that people at large are doing the same thing. It feels like there is an element of people wanting to get it over with so they can back to the ordinary ” winter making ends meet”.

In the afternoon I accompany my partner to the garden centre to eat and then return home to continue the Christmas puttering. Friday afternoon slides into evening where TV awaits and finally the medication before bed.

Saturday comes as a bit of a surprise I have clearly slept deeply and it takes me a while to get myself together and to get to go through my usual rituals. When I do get up my partner has gone to the hairdresser and I find my eldest daughter dressed as Wednesday Adams as she prepares to go to Comicom. I make breakfast, take my morning meds and wonder why I feel so rough. I do more Christmas organising until the garden guy turns up. With the garden guy given coffee I accompany my partner to the garden centre where we pick up food for the weekend and return home.

I’m still not feeling chipper but I find the energy to fill the bird and squirrel feeders and then watch a rugby match followed by a football match. I try to clear the decks and in doing so get the gas fire in the lounge working again. I also get the Christmas post box done ready to send to Sweden for my older grandson who has become a Leicester City fan. The family eats tea and settles down to watch Strictly, its getting difficult to call. The evening dibbles away until I take my night meds and get myself off to bed. Its been a lack lustre day so I must train tomorrow to get myself going again.

Thursday and I wake up after a good nights sleep and set about my waking routine. Vitals are good and my socials and messages are all run of the mill. I’m feeling sluggish and it feels like this is a day of few spoons, however I had decided yesterday that this needs to be a training day so I get up and get into my training, down my morning meds and eventually get to the garage and the rower. I make a bad choice, I choose to listen to a BBC radio beat compilation while I row, it is not only boring but intensely annoying, so I will not be doing that again. I row for 45 minutes on level 4 in a state of irritation at the sounds in my ears. Eventually the session is over and to my surprise I have rowed a personal best for this new era of training. Perhaps I row better if I am irritated!

By the end of the session I am almost spoonless. The session gets recorded and I stare into space for a while as I listen to the Infinite Monkey Cage and gather up my self. I do a bit more Christmas shopping on the internet before having a shower. Feeling clean and refreshed but with no more spoons I invent a new sandwich after staring into the fridge wondering what I really want. This is how the peanut butter/ tinned salmon/ corn beef sandwich gets born. Actually protein packed and surprisingly tasty especially when washed down with diet Red Bull.

The blog starts to gets drafted as I listen to The Infinite Monkey Cage on Hedgehogs, Elasticity, The Science of Baby Making and A Starless Word, so it is like an intensive brain meal to go with my new protein packed sandwich. Already the sun is going down and the evening is crawling over the garden and the view from my recliner. I feel like a spider waiting for things to come to fruition so that I am partner birthday ready and Christmas ready. One thing about having limited spoons is that life becomes more strategic so that my energy gets spent more efficiently. I could have done with this skill years ago. The secretary of the surgeon who is going to deal with my Viking disease rings me and explains that she needs the quote for my operation in January so that it can be adjusted to take account of the post operation finger physio. I promise to share as soon as I get it.

My evening might be football focused or reading focused or a mixture of both, whatever I do it will end up with me taking my night meds and hoping for a good nights sleep.

Wednesday and I wake to the sound of the house at work, I go through my getting up rituals, vitals of course get done and are good. I spend time checking my tine table up to Christmas and working out what I need to do when, some of my to do list has gaps which I need to think about. With the morning gone I go to the village pub with my eldest daughter for brunch, where we chat and enjoy the emptiness of the place. Having eaten well we return home via the co-op for a paper.

My partner goes to see her mother taking my new power cleaner with her so that the handy man at her mothers can power wash her patio. I settle down to check what has arrived for birthdays and Christmas and begin to wrap some things. It goes quite well but I am still waiting for my bespoke cards and wrapping paper. Its an exercise that makes me recognise the shopping still to be done, so over the next few days I shall be topping up and badgering people about what they want. Finally I can do no more and settle down to draft the blog and prepare for this evenings football match and Shetland of course. Tomorrow must be a training day and a further Christmas organising day. With December close its time to get the cards written. I might even write a Christmas letter, I shall see if I can be inspired to write an upbeat one that indicates we are all still alive and kicking even though there have been some things that definitely did not bring the family joy.

Tuesday and I wake to my partner going off to work. I laze for a while and check my vitals, which are good. I go through my messages and socials routine before attending to some life and Christmas admin. With a big effort I get up and in to my training gear take my morning meds and head for the garage and the rower. I make the decision to take the resistance level up a notch to level 5 and set the duration for 30 minutes. Its time to start to increase the intensity of the work. With the infinity Monkey Cage in my ears I set off and after being educated about trees I am rewarded with a new personal best for this time and resistance level since I started back training.

I take a few moments to record the session and then clear the kitchen before taking a shower to freshen up. Feeling clean and refreshed I accompany my eldest daughter to the local pub and sit down to chorizo hash and fruit tea. We chat about judges and the law, finally getting on with the conversation about birthdays and Christmas. On the way home we try to buy a paper but the village co-op is out.

Once home I start to draft the blog and to dig about in my wardrobes to stock check what the elves have brought so far. Crucially I am still waiting for my bespoke wrapping paper and cards so I cannot start the secret squirrel wrapping spree, but I do have the materials to start preparing my Christmas Poetry Stanza contribution. Just need to find some me time to get that all done. Its a European football week so I expect I will be glued to a game tonight. What I do get is an unexpected call from a friend who has been able for the first time to get herself to a face to face meeting and mix socially with colleagues. It is great that she is being able to keep moving forward in her recovery from long COVID. It is sobering that there are many people like my friend who are still battling long COVID. It takes a lot of creativity and perseverance to keep fighting to recover. Before I know it I am squirreling away the Tesco order and then I am on to my evening.

As predicted my evening is a combination of football and a film called Leave the World Behind. What an interesting film but a strange ending. I finish the blog, take my night meds and go to bed, wondering if I will train tomorrow or begin another round of letter writing, depending on how my body responds to todays efforts.

Saturday, and I wake to my partner preparing to go lunch with a friend. I take my vitals, still all good, and get up to train. The garage is still chilly and with the poetry stanza in the afternoon I set a 45 minute session to give me time to recover. the session goes quite well, I am only 50 metres of a personal best for the time since I returned to training. This is a good outcome so I am pleased I made the effort.

With the training behind me I can have breakfast and prepare for the Poetry Stanza meeting which is in Zoom. I go through the rituals with the technology and then at the appointed time I log in. For the next three hours I hear poetry being read and analysed including one of mine. There is some really good stuff and also some impenetrable stuff that passes me by, these poets know what they are doing and seem very at home with all the difficult stuff. The meeting ends with the reminder that the next meeting in December will include voluntary goodies and the fact that we will be in a different room. My ears prick up, that means the normal room will be in use and that means more cars in the car park, need to be early next time.

Its international rugby weekend so I slide seamlessly into a rugby match, in fact I slip seamlessly into two matches before Strictly Come Dancing is on TV. There are no obvious “donkeys” left to throw out at this stage of the game and its getting unpredictable about who will get thrown out. With that excitement over there is time for an episode of Ellis and then its time to take my night meds and get off to bed. The weather has been miserable and wet all day so I have not missed going out and my brain has been fed by the poetry stanza.

Sunday, by common decree in the household this is to be a hunkering down day as it is till grey and raining as storm Bert continues to pass through. So a lazy start to the day, with much puttering before brunch of croissants and jam and then its into more international rugby, the last full weekend, only the Irish to play next weekend. I read my meters and send off my readings, which get costed straight away. The household is about on budget, so we are being able to keep warm with out breaking the bank. The family drift into the evening sustained by a chicken crock pot before watching the Strictly results show that turns out to be predictable. Another episode of Ellis and some football later and I am downing my meds and getting ready for bed, but then I discover BBC 4 is showing La Boheme from the Metropole. Watch the opening two acts, which have some great arias in but its late and I know what’s coming and I am not sure I am rugged enough for the death scene in the last act, where poor Mimi tragically dies. I go to bed promising myself I will get it all on catch up.

Monday arrives and I have slept well, a recent trend for which I am grateful. My partner brings me hot water, my early morning drink of choice, and goes off to the gym leaving me to book my next 28 jab and a set of hospital bloods at the GP surgery. It is basic health admin but I still find it irksome, I am not sure why, I just do. More so this time as I will have to have my bloods done the heath centre in the next village as this time its due to be done on a Saturday because I shall be away with my partner on the Friday for birthday Spa visit. I’ve just about cleared the decks when the plumber arrives to install the new guts into the downstairs WC. He looks at it all and quotes me a price and says he can do it right now as he has the parts in the van. I agree, make him coffee and he gets on with it. It takes him about an hour after which I get a demonstration of the new push button system where if it ever over flows it overflows into the actual toilet and not out of a pipe through the wall, which is exactly what I wanted. The interesting thing was that before we got going he quoted me the price and asked if I had it in cash as he was retired now. Luckily I had the cash and he was happy to do the job there and then otherwise he would have to come back when I had cash. As I hand over the cash, including a new king Charles £20, we have a conversation about Terry Prachett, he has loads of TP collectables which is trying to sell as he down sizes. We chat about how best to go about getting a fair price and the platforms available to him. He leaves and I finally get to start drafting the blog that I have missed out on over the last two days.

My day, apart from lunching out is unremarkable, a round of the usual, films and resting, which as ever ends up with night meds and bed and thinking about tomorrows to do list and a Tesco order.

Friday and I wake up sleepy like Mole in Wind in the Willows. I must have slept well. I go through my morning ritual, vitals are good, and then get up, I have plan. For once I put on a proper shirt as I might be doing business today. My morning meds get done and then Amazon deliver two books and the post man a letter. The letter is from a friend and is a delight, I read it twice vowing to reply before the end of November. I turn my attention to my books. How to be a Poet, The collected short stories and essays by Dylan Thomas, the other How to be a Poet by Jo Bell and Jane Commane. I go straight to the short essay by Dylan Thomas called How to be a Poet. It is hysterical, I laughed out loud, this man knew how to take the piss, alongside writing amazing poetry. With having had such a laugh I turned to skim through the seriously titled, How to be a Poet. I admit I only dipped at this time but found myself amused by it, but I do not think I was supposed to be. Apparently there things you should not do, like invert word order (and sound like Yoda) or us the word “upon”, seriously its a minefield of up your arsedom.

My partner finishes work for the day and I drive us into town for lunch at the Cosy Club. We both have the Christmas special pie which comes with a donation to charity, so that’s me done for this year! Its a good meal and a chance to sit and chat. Mostly its about family and Christmas. Its a nice treat to have a relaxed meal and be able to take our time. With the bill paid I drive us to the Mazda dealership where we look around and engage a sales person and grill him about all the technology advances over the last ten years. He pushes, we reply by taking notes, and teasing him with a cash sale. We sit in some cars, ask more questions and when my partner has finished, I start adn the whole thing over again with a different car. Eventually we have what we want to know and walk to the dealership next door and do the same thing again with a different make. We are pleasantly surprised by what we find so life is now a bit more complicated. As night falls upon us we drive home.

Once home, it’s into comfy clothes and drafting the blog. I check to see if anyone else has posted a poem for tomorrows Poetry Stanza before I run off hard copies to read from. Thankfully there are no new additions so I prepare my file for tomorrow. Its onwards into the evening and an international rugby match, followed by some more Dylan Thomas, night meds and bed. Its been a good day.

Thursday and I wake up knowing it is cold and also the first day of Cycle 19. I go through my waking routine including vitals and get up and into my training gear. A haste glass of water and morning meds and I am heading for the garage and the rower. Its the coldest yet, a meagre 2 degrees. I strap in and get going quickly to get warm.

Its a bit of a grind but I get to the end with a reasonable output, not bad for a cold day when I am huddled up in my track suit. The session gets recorded before I change into some warm clothes and get on with filling my drugs pouches for the next two weeks. Its a tedious job but keeps me on track and. lets me easily check that I am taking my meds. Lunchtime rocks around and I cook myself and my partner filled pasta. So I dribble into the afternoon and set about preparing for the Poetry Stanza on Saturday by downloading all the poems that have been submitted so far adn reading them through. Some I like others are just a plain mystery so I decide to send every one my Dylan Thomas poem, a very short irreverent one, which I hope will lighten the mood and move things on a bit on the day. It does prompt me to order two books, one by Dylan Thomas, which are short essays on how to be a poet and another book that proports to tell one how to be a poet, I can’t wait for them to arrive as I suspect they maybe everything I loathe about the poetry industry but then again there maybe some useful stuff in them. All I can do is remain open to ideas.

Amazon start to deliver Christmas parcels and I have to find room to squirrel stuff away, which for some reason is more difficult this year, I seem to have accumulated more clothes that I am not sure where they have come from and my sisters ashes are taking up space where I used to hide things. I really need to do something with her. Having cleared away the kitchen I draft the blog and settle down to read before the evening arrives, it is such a bind these days now that the world goes dark at half past four. I noted my squirrel earlier tucking into the peanuts that I put out yesterday, I think he bides his time until the day warms up and pops out for a one off forage.

My evening seems bound to be a reading one and a dose of TV as staying warm is a priority although I’ve can feel some more Christmas shopping creeping up on me. I friend phones me and we have time for a quick chat as we go about our evenings before I reach night meds time and a way to my bed.

Wednesday and I wake after a deep sleep. I take my vitals and realise that this is the last day of Cycle 18, and I am into day 56 of the reboot of chemotherapy with the hiccups of suspected angina and the removal of the bladder stone behind me. It feels like moving forward and mildly ironic that today I am seeing a doctor to sort out my Dupuytrens contracture. I get up and potter about for a while and then take myself of to the village café for a full English breakfast and hot chocolate.

With the breakfast done and the days crosswords also done I return home and as my partner goes off to see his mother I get going on some serious Christmas admin. I beaver away until I can do no more and then pick up a line that occurred to me this morning when I was checking my vital. Taking the line I followed it through and ended up with something resembling a poem.

421

There is no finding out
Without each other. 
No making sense 
Or meaning
Without the mirror.
Each in their own bottle 
Bobbing about.
Some things maybe 
Thought known
Until confronted with
Pieces that do not fit.
There are a million
Me’s out there
And a million you’s in here,
I’ll read your label
If you will read mine.
Deal?

						421   20-11-2024
 

By the time I had finished there was just time to refill the bird and squirrel feeders before my partner retuned and we prepared to drive through the peak time traffic to see the consultant who is going to assess my Dupuytrens Contraction. The drive is predictably slow but we arrive in time. There is a short wait in the “funding yourself” waiting area adn then I am in with the consultant, my partner riding shot gun. He asks what he can do for me. I slap my hand on the table adn he says “You have got Vikings disease, it’s hereditary”. I am asking all the rational questions about treatment and time lines for the operation along with some other stuff and inside I am chanting ” Yippee I’m a Viking, I’m a fucking Viking, I knew it”. We agree that Thursday the 30th of January 2025 is a good day for everyone involved and then we leave. Now I wait for the invoices to begin to appear.

Back home I make a quiche for tea before watching TV. Before I can settle down I get a phone call from a friend while they driving south to do a workshop tomorrow. We chat for about 40 minutes which included a joint decision on a route change, which was only possible because I know the route. There is an awful lot going on in my friends life, which we chat about. Eventually we say goodbye and return to my quiche and TV. The evening goes by till I take my evening meds, catch up with the blog and go to bed.