CYCLE 5 DAYS 8 & 9

Tuesday 3^rd of December.

Yesterday, Tuesday was all effort and work. I had got up early to crack on with my report writing from the TC review, but first as ever came drugs and a walk to the village cafe for breakfast.  Today there was no one apart from me, no school oiks or passing ruffians. As time went on there was a rush for breakfast rolls but then once again I was on my own.  Returning home I bent myself to writing the report I had promised. All morning I filled in boxes, checked my notes, checked my evidence and put in scores. I carefully saved the updated version part way through and continued to work on the excel document. At last I had finished, all I had to do was send it to my colleague at the RCP and that was me done, or at least for the moment.

 I logged on to my RCP account and wrote an accompanying e-mail for the report and then pressed the attachment tag to add the document. Nothing came up, not a thing, not anything vaguely related! It’s at these moments that I know I could kill; I take the IT failures personally. I swear they play hide and seek with me. Don’t ask who “they” are, it only makes things worse. There follows what seems an eternity while I search my whole system for the missing file. Eventually I find it stashed away in a folder that is in a totally different part of my computer and nothing to do with my documents, Exel or otherwise. I copy it to at least three locations to make sure I know where it is and then return to the my RCP account to finish the e-mail and this time the attachment works.

 By this time I am home crazy, as much as I like the home I live in there is a limit to how long I can stay in it, especially after a bout of IT homicidal rage. I head for the gym, where I catch up on Google, e-mails and Amazon shopping.  A quick snack and more net surfing till my partner arrives. I change and get to the gym floor to find all the cross trainers taken so I head for treadmill and set off on a brisk walk with some taxing incline. An hour’s walk yields only 480 calories but my night cramping calf muscles are now aching and I hope subdued for the night.

 My partner and I decide to eat out at the Italian across the way, Bella Italia. We stroll across and enter, there before us are two empty booths and all four of the window tables are set and empty. A waiter/attendant thing comes over and says “we got no tables there is at least a half hours wait, we cannot serve you”! We forcibly point out the empty tables; he repeats his ludicrous assertion that they cannot accommodate us. My partner looses it at this point and tells him he is ludicrous, he apologies in his best Uriah Heap sweaty way at which point she tells him to “fuck off” and we leave.

 We walk twenty yards to another Italian restaurant , enter and resign ourselves as the place is really busy, we ask the member of staff who says “certainly, I will just clear a table for you, have a look at the menu and I will be back for you in a moment” Which she was. We had a cosy booth, good service and a lovely meal. We discussed our plans, or lack of the for the civil partnership, which was really useful and moved things forward. We figured that this restaurant was so busy because everyone who had been denied at Bella Italia had moved here. Won’t be doing Bella Italia again, as they clearly cannot manage their capacity with the staff they have, which just screams poor management. Home, very tired and needing my bed, no blog.

Wednesday 4^th of December.

It’s a secret. I cannot write about what I did to today as people who read this blog will know what surprises await them. But I will share this. I stopped at Costa Coffee mid hot flush and grabbed a sofa while I downed a diet coke and a mince pie. I watched some folk around me and found myself writing this:

 I sit dripping my hot flush

Watching the world of Christmas,

Shoppers, offers, mince pies

And looking at my nails

Now turning into claws

As the poison bites

And chews at me anew.

The hormones flat

The steroids rampant

As my head becomes a football

My midriff expands

The scales groan.

I see all of these people

Head down, phone in hand

Banal and full of anxiety

I envy them their bodies

Their erections,

Their assumptions of immortality.

Birthdays, Christmases, occasions

All future bound

Effortlessly expected,

The entitlements of life.

People half my age or less

In gut balancing track suits

Going out for a smoke.

It enrages me

But generally people are okay

They are just crap when

I’m having a bad day.  

CYCLE 5 DAY 7

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES BUCKLE

What a day today has been. It has been a retreat to the cave day and a grit the teeth and grind it out day. Having got past the drugs, self stabbing and a restorative bath I legged it to the village cafe. It was full; full of spotty oiks from the community college bunking off to indulge in bacon rolls and acme producing solid chocolate cakes. I’m on the chocolate cake’s side.

I retreat to home and the output of my frying pan, to do the crosswords and read which football manager has been sacked. I have chores to do but set to transferring all the domestic direct debits to the new joint account. It’ is an experience that is frustrating, infuriating and nothing but aggravation. And before anyone comes out with the patronising “well they have to be careful, blah blah blah….” Fuck off. I’ve changed security stuff and rebooted several times and still I’m locked out of one site. No two sites are the same and no site has easy access to the bank changing details.

The one bright spot was the delivery of my blue onesie. Its snug and warm, which is about as good as it’s going to get. So I have come to the end of the afternoon with some progress and more problems. It makes sitting around in a group; wondering about the meaning of life a piece of piss really. At least I do not have to go to London tomorrow so I can spend the day writing up the therapeutic community review we did on Thursday. During the day I received some uplifting WhattsApp messages, which were most welcome.

I shall spend my evening doing nothing as mindlessly as possible in my onesie and trying for an early night. At least tomorrow there is no self stabbing and the poison should start working itself out of me. Gym perhaps?  

CYCLE 5 DAY 6

Wow 9 hours sleep; I must forget to take my evening meds more often. I woke up to find the household up and eating breakfast. I tucked in to my bacon sandwich while my injection stick warmed up. It was a brief morning of slowly getting going and doing my meds. By the time my youngest daughter leaves for home in the early afternoon I am wrestling with becoming a competent internet banker.

As we have reactivated a joint account to cope with the domestic bills I thought I ought to get organised to manage it from home and my phone. It took a long time to set up with numerous new user names and passwords, not to mention additional information and finger prints. By the end of the process there is now a viable joint account to which our domestic bills can be directed. While I play with the IT my partner gets the house ship shape until we can do no more and elect to go for Indian takeaway for our evening meal. I watch TV and update my “important numbers “book until I need to rest again. I’m hoping to get another 9 hours tonight and have the energy to carry out my Monday “to do “list.

I’m also hoping to have time to read some of the growing pile of books that is growing on my bed head.

CYCLE 5 DAY 5

Another torrid night, up and down like a yoyo, with regular hot flushes. It feels like I got very little sleep and woke in the morning like a wrung out rag. My partner left early to go to the hairdresser leaving me to rest. I of course resorted to checking e-mails and WhatsApp along with my Amazon orders. Once up it was a case of getting the stab stick out of the fridge and taking my morning drugs.

 I made breakfast with my youngest daughter while my eldest prepared to go out to town. I spent time staring at the TV until it was time to self inject and get dressed. I had just about got myself together when the Sainsbury’s delivery arrived, so I was forced in to a minor burst of activity after which I just sat and stared at the wall for a while. Amazon delivered Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, which I quickly unwrapped and placed with my other waiting books. I find it increasingly difficult to raise energy to do anything and plan a day of watching sport on TV.

 I feel generally wretched, well poisoned actually and do not know what to do with myself.  My mouth tastes of metal and I am restless. I am uncomfortable in my clothes and just want to find some way of being comfortable. This runs in parallel with a sense of being pissed off with myself for being such a whinge, I hate this state and seek some sense of comfort. In desperation I resort to Amazon and order a onesie, it’s my answer to comforting myself. I figure that if I can wrap myself up in a onesie I can roll up in a comfortable ball I can ride out this cycle of poisoning.

 My partner returns home and prepares bacon sandwiches before taking my youngest daughter to the garden centre. I have written a list of magnesium rich foods which I need to combat the chronic calf cramps the chemo is giving me. What a result, highest on the list is dark chocolate, avocados and nuts, so I send my family off with the list and a plea for the items with the addition of a decent pork pie of course. I settle to an afternoon of TV sport and nibble dried figs and yogurt.

 The afternoon passes in a state of listlessness until everyone returns and we slip into the evening routine of dinner and TV. I type the blog in front of the TV. It’s a strange feeling of dissociation, where my body doesn’t feel like mine, I do not recognise myself or at least my inner sense of how I usually feel. The most difficult thing is anticipating the coming night. The fear is that it will be another sleepless night full of cramp and sweat. I am internally cognitively itchy knowing that I cannot have another day like this.

Tomorrow I must become active and fight back, this inactivity is corrosive and self-defeating. Tomorrow I must make the effort to concentrate and go to the gym, do some of the things on my “to do” list. Christmas is coming and the Roland is getting fat, I need to put a cognitive penny in my intellectual hat.

CYCLE 5 DAY 4

So today I wake up and immediately know that this is a bad day. Nothing specific except feeling tired after what had been a reasonable nights sleep, at least according to my Fitbit. It is that instant listless feeling that sweeps over me when I try to leap from my bed and spring into action. The legs just do not bounce as they should. So its plan B. Coffee while the stab stick warms up and a retreat to bed to do e-mail and WhatsApp check. The idea is to warm up and get going at a reasonable pace with a revised to do list. So nothing exciting in the e-mails except possible work and a couple of WhatsApp to respond to, which was the best thing to do.

 So with a nice warm stab stick I get that over and done with and get dressed. This is a day to walk to the village cafe for breakfast and to sit and do the crosswords at my leisure. So this is what I did and made no more demands on myself. I wandered home and picked up a notice of a parcel that needed picking up from the post office. I jumped in the car and drove to the sorting office and presented the card and my driving licence as proof of ID. Back came the post person looked at the label and then at me, “Lesley?” she quizzes, “yep” I reply and sign the electronic pad with the new gender self identification of Lesley. Everyone knew I wasn’t Lesley, especially the post person who had looked at my driving licence with my name emblazoned on it. But when life is being lived people recognise what is important and what is not and get on with it. Common sense prevails for once.

 So home again and a lot of pushing stuff around the desk while I try and sort out a suitable day for my partners up coming birthday. Required some perseverance but I eventually got there. The nice surprise was that my youngest daughter appeared mid way through the task which was lovely and soon followed by her elder sister. I cleared the kitchen and tidied up in a fit of parental responsibility and then returned to the office.

 No gym tonight as the work on the showers will mean chaos and cold showers so I’m going to rest today and see how things go over the weekend. My one task to fill my weekly drug wallet has been completed so I am free to indulge myself this evening, I might even get to start reading my pile of awaiting books after a leisurely shower.

On days like this it is difficult to shake the sense of isolation or more accurately the sense of doing this cancer stuff on my own, even though I know that I have a lot of people who care. Because of my loss of hormones with its consequential loss of physical desire I miss the contact.

CYCLE 5 DAY 3

Up early for the first stab of this cycle and then straight out to drive to a therapeutic community accreditation visit. Forgot my morning drugs, obviously some anxiety around. I had an excellent day being in the midst of a group of like minded people trying their best to understand and communicate to make the changes they wanted with the help of each other. I am not going to say any more about the day as I have the task of writing about them in detail in my report and its right that what needs to be written is written in the report, not on a blog. All I will say is that every time I step into a therapeutic community I know I made the right career choice to be involved with them.

I return home very tired, weary and hungry and settle down to cook and watch football to turn off for a little while. The nice surprise is that my copy of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness has arrived. It will join my growing pile of books waiting to be read. A reminder that I need to find some down time to read and write some more. I’m tempted to start before I go to bed but know this book deserves more, so I shall wait. Tomorrow perhaps. It seems everyone I talk to is feeling tired and in need of rest. Is it Christmas or just one of those moments in life when the world seems to be more demanding than usual?

CYCLE 5 DAY 2

A brief lay in bed this morning just to see how things felt. That early morning post poisoning check to see if there was anything strange going on. As far as I could tell all was going okay, so I checked my e-mails and WhatsApp messages alongside my Amazon orders and that was the cyberspace dealt with. Up for a shower and to take my drugs before walking down to the chemist to pick up my next lot of drugs. I pick up a paper and head for the village cafe for breakfast and time to do the crosswords.   

I return home via the co-op for bread and eggs and then onto some serious preparation for tomorrows therapeutic community visit. I am told by an e-mail that I am not going to be able to see the case notes because the clinical team have issues around confidentiality. I read everything I have got more carefully and request new information about their service. I am not impressed so far. I will see what I think when I get a chance to stare into their eyes. If they lie to me they are in serious trouble. I do my washing, load dishwasher and tidy up the place, before going to the supermarket to get a new clip board and some printer cartridges.

 I post a book chapter to a friend who I promised it to and then returned home from the supermarket to continue some Christmas preparations and decide what I will wear tomorrow. It has to be something comfortable as tomorrow is the first stab stick which I shall do before going to the TC visit. I spend time going through documents to find my partners marriage certificate  so that she has the full set when we meet the registrar on the 6^th of December to declare our intent to civilly partner. That’s one less thing to need to think about, which is a relief as I did not want to be chasing duplicate certificates at this stage.

My partner returns from work and has arranged for us to meet the ceremony venue manger to discuss the form of the ceremony as we get to choose, I’m mainly interested in food, my partner and I will need to have some serious discussions as to what we think should happen in this ceremony. I think we will talk it over with the girls this weekend as my youngest is coming to see us this weekend again.

My partner goes out to dinner with a friend while I watch football drink soup and continue to get my two and half litres of fluid down me. By 10:30pm I am just about organised and ready to sit and blog. It’s been a day of bits and pieces interspersed with the odd phone call from friends which are a welcome diversion and contact with the real world. All I want is a good night’s sleep and a good start to the day tomorrow. I am looking forward to the TC review, they always prove to be stimulating and I feel at home in what I think of as my natural habitat.

Today I avoided sweets, buns, cakes and other goodies, day one of the new rules has gone well. Apologies to the children!

CYCLE 5 DAY 1

It’s been a very busy day. As you can see from the heading picture tooth brush cycle 4 went into retirement and joined the cancer cycle club. There they wait for completion by cycles five and six at which point I hope to turn them into some sort of art work or even jewellery. The day started with a quick breakfast and a block dose of steroids, always good to get one going for the day. We left very early to get to my 11:15 poisoning session, two hours early in fact, which turned out to be just enough. We arrived at the car park barrier with two minutes to spare.

Thankfully by the time we reached the ward and collected drinks and substance on the way I was called almost immediately and told to pick my bay. Result, I get to choose a proper recliner and number 7 at that. Perhaps the oncologist, “he who made a pact with the devil”, hasn’t read my blog, or at least the bit I called him a twat and then regretted it as I thought I might never get a recliner again. The usual checks, name date of birth, allergies, have I had my steroids? No problems there, so I get my cannula put in and first time as well. I just think I am more relaxed about it now and that must help the process. So my bag is up and the driver on. My partner goes off to look for coffee and I eat biscuits, drink coke and read more of the Existential Cafe. I occasionally pause to fan myself with my man fan as the initial poisoning always brings on a hot flush. I am getting used to being watched when I do this now. I have to say its men who stare the most. I have no idea what they are thinking and to be honest I do not give a toss, I’m looking after me the best way I know how. The book I am reading has really got me hooked and I am making mental notes to read some of the books mentioned in it, particularly Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex. Having read Virginia Wolfe’s A Room of Ones Own written in 1928 some 21 years before Beauvoir’s book was published I am intrigued to see the ideas coming together and being developed through and existential view point. With such good stiff to read the hour flew by and we were soon scuttling out of the chemo suite with my next month’s supply of drugs and stab sticks stowed safely away.

We headed for town and the Cosy Club for lunch but got side tracked to the bank so that my partner could pay some cheques in. Whilst there we decided to see if it was possible to re instate an old joint account that had been sitting dormant with about one pound fifty pence in it. We had to wait a bit to see someone as a woman had collapsed in the bank and was waiting for an ambulance. By the time we got to see our bank person, said lady was sitting up, drinking water and engaged in vigorous and meaningful conversation with the bank staff. To our surprise all we needed was to produce our drivers licences and answer some questions, to which we knew the answers. So the deed was done and we are expecting new cards for the account to arrive early in December. This is to be our joint domestic account out of which the house bills will get paid each month. The idea is that if I fall off the perch unexpectedly the domestic bills will be paid and there will be no difficult sorting out as part of the estate, my partner will just convert the account with the same direct debits. Just another bit of life admin attended to. I will have the fun of changing all the current direct debits with the suppliers but that will all happen in good time, in fact quite quick good time. So off to Cosy Club for lunch without my phone as in the rush to get out I had left in the office at home.

Home and we settle into work mode, which means I suddenly start to book a venue for our civil partnership arrangements, and an appointment to give notice our intentions. It is the tentative arrangements to ensure the civil partnership is in place as soon as possible in 2020 when the regulations can be enacted. This will provide the final safeguards for my partner, who for example as my legal next of kin can organise my funeral, rather than it being left to my daughters to do. All we have to do now is to agree the form of the ceremony with the registrar, who we are hoping will be a friend of ours. Our plan is to do what we need to do in terms of the law and then when the weather is better to throw a thrash in the sunny months for everyone. We shall see how this all works out but we should know once we have meet with the registrar to give notice and to have our documents checked to ensure we are legal to do this. I expect we will be some of the first male and female partnerships to take up our civil right to do this.

 After such a frenzy if administration efficiency it was time for the gym. Rather than risk cold showers again we went pre gym attired and went straight to the gym floor, my partner to see her personal trainer and me to the cross trainer. I strode away for an hour burning off 770 calories and downing another 750ml of water. In these early days of the poisoning cycle I am supposed to get two and a half litres of water down me. This I find hard and explains why I am sipping my way through 330 mls of non alcoholic beer as I write this. I weighed myself this morning proudly naked post morning shower. 97.6 kilos of steroids and hormone induced flab. Steroids boost appetite, which I all too often satisfy with sweet stuff, which just encourages the flab monsters to build new layers round my middle. My belt tells me daily of the impeding doom of my current waste size and belt to accommodate it. So new rules for Roland: no sweets, no puddings and no buns/cakes and biscuits. The alcohol has already gone. I am determined not to turn into a fat old man mouthing the words “its my hormones and steroids, it’s not my fault”. Well yes it is. I’m responsible for what goes in my mouth and what exercise I take. If I can get my PSA down then I can get my weight down. First goal is 92 Kilos. So just 5.6 kilos to lose by the end of cycle 6, which is Monday 6^th of January 2020.

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 Home to soup still in my track suit and travel home gear. I watch football and then begin the blog. I wait to see how my night goes and how this cycle turns out and if it lives up to expectations off adding to the cumulative process of being poisoned.

CYCLE 4 DAY 22

A full day today and it has left me full of “stuff”. You know the sort of “Stuff” that wheedles its way into your being and requires some time to sort it out, to understand it and to incorporate it into the way you make sense of the world.

 It started with having to get up early to shower before going and seeing the oncologist, “he who made a pact with the devil”. I drove this time, I must be feeling chipper, and in fact if this isn’t a chipper day on the last day of this cycle then I’m screwed. Tomorrow is a poison day and it will go downhill from there. Anyway we rock up, my partner and I find ourselves so early that there is no one on the desk to take my now battered and dog eared appointment card. We seek coffee and settle in for a bit of a wait and try to read the doctors names on the board at the end of the waiting area. I blag it and deduce which is mine and gently tease my partner who is convinced that the last letter is a “K”. By the time we are called we are both convinced we need to have our eyes checked in the near future.

 The nurse shows us to the consulting hutches and we are in for a surprise. “He who made a pact with the devil” is not there, so we get the “sorcerer’s apprentice”. He shakes hands and says hello and explains he is houseman or some such label; the word consultant did not crop up. He’s about to tell me my blood results but I tell him, and we chat about how well I’m doing. I note that he asks me if I have settled the 21 day or 28 day injection situation with my GP. I am impressed, this sorcerers apprentice has read the notes, and I like him. He assures me that my night time calf cramps are due to the chemo and that he will check my magnesium level on the next bloods and that if it gets too bad he can do something abut it, I bet magnesium supplement is the answer. By the time I get to see him again my partner will have adjusted my diet to include every known natural source of magnesium know to the species. If my tits grow I will be expressing milk of magnesia!

 Any way sorcerer’s apprentice goes on to explain what happens when I get to the end of the six cycles. Just volunteered it out of the blue! So here we go, at the end of the six cycles they will see me and then again in three months to assess the CT scan results that they will do just before the appointment. This I have called the “fingers crossed” phase. If all is as well as can be expected (whatever that means) they will give me a phone call once every three months, and I assume blood tests every month via the GP, and then an annual appointment.  I have called this phase “fuck off and die”.

 Well that’s what I call live and direct. No blurry around the edges, ifs and maybe, waffle in there at all. I should point out that I received this thrilling piece of information dressed in my three piece black funeral suit complete with diamond skull cuff links (Vivien Westwood), and my grandfathers double watch chain strung across my waistcoat: skull ear stud in of course. Yes of course I was wearing my black Crombie overcoat as well, topped with my peaky Blinders cap. Funnily enough we were out of the “consultation” pretty rapidly. Drove home, where my partner readied herself to go to work and I set my satnav for the funeral.   

I drove to the funeral with little or no aggravation from the satnav. Most times it takes me via insane routes but once on The M1 it was very compliant. I met an old acquaintance and colleague in the car park for which I am eternally grateful. There is nothing worse than turning up at one of lifes major rituals and feeling an interloper at best and a spare part at worst. We found our way to reception where we found another of our colleagues. We said our hellos and then hung around the appropriate room until invited in by the “Life Celebrant”, who was to facilitate the service. The three of us sat ourselves behind the three rows reserved for family members and picked up the programme for the celebration. As is my wont I secured a couple of extra programmes to give to those from our friendship group who could not be there.

I noted very early on that the curtains that would be drawn around the coffin at the end of the celebration encased a resting dais that had no doors at its end. We were to be spared the sight of the coffin rumbling along a set of rollers through a pair of doors and to whatever fiery end we cared to imagine. We were asked to stand as the family followed the coffin in. It was a beautiful wicker coffin adorned with personal tributes. We listened to Alan’s entry music; Chan Chan by the Buena Vista Social Club. That got me to start with as I had had long conversations with Alan after his first wife died and he had gathered up his courage to go on holiday on his own to Cuba where he saw the Buena Vista Social Club. It was an emotional time for him and one that set a tone for him for a while.

 There were words of welcome and scene setting and then an old friend of Alan’s spoke of Alan’s childhood and the development of his career up to the point where Alan met his new wife and started his own company.  This was followed by a series of pictures of Alan through his marriages and travels whilst we listened to Sultans of Swing by Dire Straits. Somewhere in there had been sneaked a picture of two Minions from the film. Finally the life celebrant read some reflections from one of Alan’s work colleagues and then a poem “afterglow” by Helen Lowrie Marshall.

 At that point the formal farewell and closing words were said and the curtains encircled the small and earthly coffin. A few last words and we were invited to leave to Alan’s “exit music”, which was Psycho Killer by Talking Heads. Yep, Psycho Killer, not one that get played much for this purpose, but then he liked his music live and direct. I miss him, and that’s the hook that leads me to the difficult places.

It’s that wandering outside to speak those words of necessity which is always so nerve wracking. Fortunately for me I came bearing the condolences of the Royal College of Psychiatrists team who had worked with Alan, which made my life a bit easier. I chatted briefly with Alan’s widow who was upbeat in a pink jacket and jaunty hat, with her daughter at her side. I decided that I would not go to the wake/reception at the end and said farewell to my colleagues and headed for the car park. Sometimes I find it difficult to be kind when I know things are churning around for me, and there was going to be no great throng in which to lose myself. One of my old supervisees pulled up beside me and we chatted about how our lives had moved on and how life is for us now. It was an unexpected pleasure and even more so when she text me later to reiterate her well wishes.  

Home and out of the black armour of death and into jeans and T shirt before going to the gym. By the time I got to my machine the gym was beginning to fill. Cross trainer for an hour and 771 calories burned off. Now for the refreshing experience of a shower to wash away the debris of the day and the sweat of the gym. I should be so lucky the showers are cold. No doubt using the upcoming revamp of the changing rooms to save on heating water. This does not do my compromised immune system any good though. Bastards. I drive off in a huff and pick up a Sainsbury’s Indian meal for two intending to eat the lot myself given that my partner is out tonight with a friend dining.  I get home and nuke the meal in the microwave and the oven and find that I have out grossed myself so I split it and give my eldest daughter a surprise Indian meal.

 Then I settle to try and capture the day. I have a lot to process, but not sure what exactly. I have urges to ring people, not for anything specific, at least not mostly, some I am clear about.  All death related no doubt, but I will rely on my unconscious to work on it and gradually reveal stuff to me. I have to keep my direction and my focus. Tomorrow is a poison day and I need to be strong to deal with the frustrations of traffic before we even get there. Then I would normally go to the gym to work the poison through, but if the showers are cold then I shall improvise.

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What is sure is that tomorrow is a new tooth brush day, and a new set of stab sticks will be sitting in the fridge ready for Thursday. One last thing; I had a comment on CHEMO DAY 13, which said nice things and asked if parts of it could be put onto the person’s website. I was more than content for them to do so if it was useful. Someone, somewhere has found prost8kancerman.co.uk, and found it useful, what more could a blogger want?

CYCLE 4 DAY 21

Today has been another lazy day, starting with a late breakfast with the family around the table. We talked about the arrangements that need to be made for a civil partnership and all the details that have to be dealt with. There is a lot of discussion to be had and some practical arrangements but at least we know now what needs to be done and in what order. As lunch time approached it was time for my youngest daughter and her boyfriend to drive home leaving us to continue our researches.

 I spent some time on the computer chasing information until I got bored with the process and went out to fill the car and play musical cars so that my car was ready to use tomorrow. Once filled and road ready I took my partner to the garden centre to buy food for tonight. On returning I worked out my route to the funereal I am going to tomorrow after I have been to see my oncologist and get signed off for cycle 5. My blood results are good enough for me to continue so tomorrow’s meeting with “he who made a pact with the devil” should be short and sweet, providing of course we can get in and out of the hospital car park.

 It is a noon funereal so with luck there should be plenty of time for me to get to it. It is the funeral of a friend and colleague who I provided clinical supervision for, for many years, and who was part of my team when we opened a therapeutic community in 2000. He died on the last day of October in hospital at the early age of 58. He was a good man and will be missed greatly by me and the network of friends he was part of. This means of course that part of my day is getting my clothes ready. I shall be turning up at the oncologists in my funeral clothes, which knowing my oncologist will probably prompt him to offer me anti depressants.

 My evening has been all eating and television before and early night in order to face the day tomorrow. I’m aware of a growing back log of books to read and Christmas chores to be done but it is all eased by the smell of freshly cooked Christmas cakes that pervades the house at the moment and the happy memories of the weekends baking activity and after dinner dice games. No gym, but I shall make that up during the week as I pump the poison round and drink copious amounts of water.  All part of keeping direction.