Its Thursday and I wake up feeling a bit better than the previous few days. I do not linger in bed and get up to heat up last nights chicken in wine stew for breakfast. Good to do something different now and again. It goes down quite well with my meds before I clear the kitchen and then head for the Shed. Before the luxury of letter writing I refill the bird feeders and the squirrel’s nut box (not a euphemism) and survey the state of the garden. There is no chance of my tomatoes ripening (also not a euphemism) as they are still flowering. I settle down to write my letters. As always a lot of time passes until I can write no more.

Back in the house I eat a bagel lunch and get sofa’d to read for a while. I am reading David Sedaris’s Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls. It sharp, funny and autobiographical. It explains why his writing voice is the way it is and the behaviour of his family in his later autobiographical book Calypso.

I slip out to post my letters and soon after I return mu tree man turns up to give me a quote to remove some of the trees in the garden. Its a difficult decision but its time to remodel part of the garden to let in the light and make it more manageable in the future. Future me will be pleased I did this, its all about what can be managed in the future by me or my partner. My tree man looks around and says he will send the quote through tomorrow and it will be a December job. I return to my book and slide gently into a usual Thursday evening, Tuna pasta, the sound of my partners singing lesson, sport on TV and the drafting of the blog before downing my chemo meds and going to bed. I had hoped to train today but I ran out of spoons earlier than I had hoped but perhaps tomorrow I will. Out there in the Real World a friend messaged me today to tell me that after a lot of work and struggle her work appeal has been upheld regarding long COVID. There is still some rationality left in the world after all. This gives me hope. On the flip side my son in Sweden tells me the pictures I sent him from sisters house have arrived at customs and they have decided that he can only have them if he pays 300 Swedish krona. It’s a sort of state extortion that was not there before Brexit. It reminds me I still live with 17.2 million twats, not so rational Real World after all. I think I’m getting better.

Wednesday and I wake up quite late and quite groggy. I spend time checking messages and emails. My partner brings me a coffee and eventually I get up and make myself a late breakfast. I settle down to reading David Sedaris’s Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls, a collection of autobiographical observation. These miniessays are funny but also sharp and trenchant. I continue reading until my partner goes to visit her mother when I spring, well more slouch, in to action and prepare a meal for the Crockpot before returning to my reading. I am beginning to feel better but not yet ready to train. I read until the late afternoon when the only world cup rugby match is on. My partner return from her visit and she and her brother set about filling in some forms related to their mothers care.

The evening slides in and tea is eaten, football watched, the blog drafted and the night meds taken. Its been a very low key day, taken at a slow pace and recuperative. There are some days that are just days to be spent on the self in recovery. A day to charge my batteries, which I would add is extremely eco friendly, perhaps I should go fully electric.

Tuesday I wake up in the spare room late. It was the only way I could get comfortable but I wake up feeling decidedly ropey. My partner brings me a coffee about ten o’clock and I make the effort to get up. I make it to the sofa and settle in. I am not good for anything as I’m still in my post injection zombie state not helped I suspect by the flu jab. I nestle down and then binge watch the Good Place all the way to the end. In a burst of energy I make soup for lunch, clear the kitchen and put the bins out and bring the car back onto the drive. That’s all I can manage and spend the afternoon drifting and then watching football. The high light was the arrival of my new David Sedaris book set. I now have brain food for a while once I can get myself together to read them.

In the evening I eat, watch football, have hot flushes, take my night meds and draft the blog before once again clearing the kitchen. I finally take myself to bed in the spare room to try and rest. I am hopeful that tomorrow I may feel a bit more chipper and get some time in the Shed to write to friends, I’m feeling neglectful of them.

Monday, injection Monday and its 7:30am. I am not at my best as I get up and dressed to go to the GP to get my 28 day injection. I walk down and log in and wait for the nurse to call me in. There is no waiting time and I am soon in handing my boxed injection to the nurse and making small talk as I bare my midriff. This month is the left side and the nurse hunts around for a non marbley area. She finds one but has to withdraw the needle as for some reason the original entry site wont take the injection. The nurse goes in again and is successful this time. I get sort and then ask about the texts I am getting about flu and COVID injections. The nurse skips to the fridge and in a flash I have a flu jab in me. I walk to reception and book my COVID jab for early October. I walk home via the Co-op to pick up a newspaper.

Once home I eat breakfast, take my meds and do the cross words in the paper. I settle down with my latest Toshikazu Kawaguchi book, Before We Say Goodbye. And that is me for the morning, I read it cover to cover in one go. It is the fourth book in a series, sensitively written and very Japanese. I eat toast, and then scrambled eggs for lunch. I get myself to the outside and go to the post office to buy stamps so that the postcards written on holiday can wing their way to their respective recipients. On the way back I move my car off the drive so that Tesco can deliver later. I can feel my injection site getting sore and get myself sofa’d and start to watch more of The Good Place. My watching is interrupted by Tesco delivering so there is some humping of baskets and squirreling of food before I return to my philosophy TV series.

My partner cooks tea and we eat in front of the TV, I am now feeling decidedly crap and sore. I draft the blog as quiz TV was on in the background, followed by a Laura Kunesberg documentary on Boris Johnson. I’m flagging fast and have an eye on the clock and I thinking of going to bed. My number one strategy of sleeping through the worst of the injection side effects is what I will do. Over the next 36 to 48 hours I shall experience what I call my “withdrawing junkie” state as my body copes with the amount of drugs in my system. So sleep and paracetamol see me through.

Sunday and its time to leave sunny Felixstowe and head home, So a shower and breakfast plus morning meds and we are ready to pack the car, and leave our say in the visitors book. I also leave a note about the faulty toilet door looks. We also text the host to tell her about the locks, which it turned out she knew about but thought it had been fixed. With the car pack we bump into the people who are staying next door who have a grumble about micro wave ovens, no license TVs that only get streaming services. I wish them well and recommend the fish restaurant we had dined in.

A small way into the drive home I pull into a service station to top up and to check the tyres, just in case they had lost pressure again. In fact they held up well and so we continued on our way. It was a perfect journey, clear roads, all dual carriage way or motorway and no hold ups so we get home by 12:30. The car is soon unloaded and the various bags emptied and clothes stowed away again. There is time for a sandwich before the first world rugby match of the day during which the Tesco order for Monday gets done. I feel a tooth ache coming on so a phone call to my dentist is on the cards in the morning after my trip to the GP for my 28 day injection.

My evening is full of rugby as I watch England win against Japan. I finish drafting the blog and then get the paper work ready for tomorrow mornings injection. While I was away my blood forms have arrived so I tuck them away and work out when I will need to have my bloods done. Tomorrow has be another start, a better diet and back to an exercise regime just to get myself back into a routine to fight off the chemo side effects. I’ve had a good break away but now I need to settle into a healthy routine for a while to rebuild some fitness and strength. It will be a tricky few days as I get over the injection and get moving again, but that is the nature of the fight.

Saturday and I am writing the blog at the end of the day, which as been lovely apart from the disappointment of returning to our holiday base to find that I have blood in my urine again. It rather takes the edge of of what has been a good day. One in which the postcards got written, a gentle walk was taken and a delicious meal was had. Followed by a gentle walk back along the Felixstowe promenade and finished off with an ice cream. It was on my return to our rented holiday house that I found the effort had me passing blood again. So my evening has been one of drinking large amounts of water, nibbling food to comfort myself and watching rugby on TV. I am aware of the large amount of tension this creates in me, I find my head aching and my jaw aching as a result of my clenched teeth, my shoulders ache and are rigid with tension. Every visit to the loo is a ” will I or won’t I” experience. So I get to the end of my evening having more or less packed for tomorrows journey home and taken my meds before an early night. It wears me down. I know there are people worse off then me and that I have very many things that I am fortunate to have and people who care about me, but just once in a while it gets to me. Tonight is one of those times. I know that in a couple of hours I will have stopped passing blood in my urine and I will be okay again but it is the uncertainty of when it will happen again that nags at me. I hope for a decent nights sleep and a good journey home tomorrow. I can then get ready for my 28 day injection on Monday morning. Its going to be a rugged couple of days but that’s the deal to stay alive for as long as is reasonably possible. As I say sometimes it gets to me.

Friday in Felixstowe and I wake up early and read for a while. Once my partner is awake I make drinks and we lay about chatting. The sun shines and the rolling sea rolls on out side our window. Its quiet here, no traffic noise. We get up and dine on eggs and smoked salmon with marmalade toast to follow. Of course there are meds to take. The decks are cleared and we go to the top of the house ,open the balcony and sit and read. I am well into my, The Good Place and Philosophy book. Its a collection of philosophical essays based on the TV series The Good Place, a humorous philosophical sitcom. Basically is asks whether humans (mostly) can become good and act ethically and be happy. It raises surprisingly difficult questions in a very entertaining way. The essays are written in the same spirit by mostly philosophy professors. Any way this take up some hours of what is left of the morning, while my partner sits on the balcony reading. We decide to go out to visit Landguard Fort just down the road. As a treat I get my hair plaited by my partner as I have yet to master the art myself. My plait is getting longer as I survive my cancer.

As we get ready to go out I make a discovery, the lock on the toilet door is dysfunctional, I cannot get out. My partner comes to assist and between us we manage to get the dead bolt part of the lock to function. I am sprung! The lock is clearly faulty as is the one on the ground floor where it will not open because the latch bolt is catching on the strike plate as it will not withdraw fully when the handle of the door is turned. That will be useful feedback for the landlords. I drive us to Landguard Fort about five minutes away, I cannot face the walk and the uncertainty of what it might do to me.

The jolly woman on the gate sells us to concessions and hands us our audio tours. I’ve not done one of these before. Apparently there are 32 informative audio inputs along a route that explains the history and function in detail by a narrator and a fictious character of the time. Fun you might think and interesting and to a degree it was, my partner stopped using hers after about number ten, I persevered to 26 and then had lemon drizzle cake and and drink. I think I faltered after the big gun.

Having had drizzle cake we fled the fort and returned to our town house refuge long enough to dump stuff and then went to the restaurant down the road for a snack. My partner still had circles on her watch to close so we walked the promenade and found that the one shop that sold sea side crap was actually open. Having loaded up with a baby sunhat with dinosaurs on it, fudge and postcards I paid and got into conversation with the bloke who ran the seafront shack. He was a local born and breed and new everything, I mean everything, about Felixstowe, and he was determined to share it with us. It was in fact quite interesting from the hotel that Wallace Simpson staid in for six months while getting her divorce to the smallest country in the world being a manmade installation twelve miles out to sea. Google it he said, I expect I will. We finally got away having got his recommendation for the best fish and chip shop. Returning home we were knackered. I slumped in an armchair and eventually started to draft the blog while my partner went to have a shower.

The evening will be tea, something simple, and the a world cup rugby match. I shall take my meds do my vitals again and get an early night. I am aware that I am facing my injection on Monday and already I feel myself getting tense. I console myself with the fact that I have made two people smile today. A friend to whom I sent a picture of the sea and another to whom I sent birthday flowers to. That will have to be enough for today.

Thursday in Felixstowe has a ring to it and that is where I wake up. A reasonable nights sleep despite it not being as big a bed as usual. I read for a bit and have drinks with my partner before we finally get up for breakfast. Its a lovely sunny day but we go p to the top of the house and open up the balcony doors and I read while my partner sketches the view. One large ship sails close by.

We spend a quiet morning and then decided to go to the restaurant just down the sea front for a drink and a snack. As I am getting ready I notice that there is an exquisite moth on the front door, truly delicate and wonderous. I cannot resist a picture.

We stroll to the restaurant and sit outside in the bright sunlight drinking and nibbling bacon and cheese turnovers. A new one on me but they were very tasty. Having sunned ourselves we walk the sea front for a while to find somewhere to buy suntan lotion, postcards and milk. We fail due to a plethora of fish and chip shops, gaming arcades and ice cream parlours. The one shop on the front that sells what we are looking for is closed. We return to our “beach hut” and read for a while. After a while the decision is made to go to the local Aldi to get the rest of the food we need for the weekend. We drive and find a huge Aldi with almost no one in it, a real treat. Shopping done I return to reading my The Good Place and Philosophy book, while my partner goes for a short walk to close her circles on her fitness watch. Just as she returns a friend rings me and asks how I am and we catch up on our news. During the call my partner returns. My call goes on until my friend and I feel we are caught up and I return to my book and todays crosswords. Tea time beckons and I start to draft the blog feeling my spoons ebb away quite quickly. We and I return to the blog and then settle down to watch tonight’s world cup rugby match. Its going to be an early night again so I will take my chemo meds a bit earlier and hope I can get to sleep quickly. Its been a slow and relaxing day, one in which I’ve read and fed myself.

Wednesday and today I start cycle four of the chemo drugs. I’ve not had a gap between cycles this time and I am going straight from cycle 3 to cycle 4. I wake up to find my partner also awake and pretty soon we are having a warm drink adn discussing whether we should do a morning podcast of our waking up conversations. On balance we decide against it. We do not think we can live up to Mortimer and Whitehouse go fishing. Up for a shower I clean the shower head to get rid of the pesky red light that keeps flashing CS at me and then shower. Surfacing clean with long flowing white locks I have breakfast with morning meds and then pack for the trip to Felixstowe. Never takes me long to pack and what seems a short while the car is packed and ready to go, so we do.

There is a brief early stop for wine gums and water, the two things I cannot do with out on a long drive. Once provisioned we set off. We get ten miles down the M1 and the tyre pressure light comes on. I am not amused they were checked yesterday. I plough on till a service station off on the A 14. The tyres get checked again, nothing wrong at all, the system on the car is over sensitive, I turn it off and then drive on. With only one brief stop on the way the destination is reached. There is the usual tricky bit at the end involving asking locals but we find it and settle in to the three story town house for the four night stay. Recovery coffee, pastry and cheese sandwich eaten its time to explore what Felixstowe has to offer.

I go for a walk with my partner down the promenade towards the town. To one side the sea to the other amusements and fish and chip shops. We walk a kilometre to the pier and then return. Along the way I take the odd snap strangely taken by this very English seaside port town.

Once back at our town house base I flop but when I go for a piss there is blood. It would seem that if I walk more than 2 kilometres it triggers the bleeding. Things were going so well. I sit in a chair and do a crossword, read some more of calypso. I go up to the third floor where there is a sitting area next to the balcony. I read some more Calypso and watch my partner draw. I return to the ground floor to start the blog as my partner prepares tea. We eat and I take paracetamol and return to the blog. The evening draws in and the TV goes on to watch a series. Its going to be an early night. Not a good way to start cycle 4, but I am by the ocean.

It’s Tuesday and before we go any further my partner has just commented on my outfit. Its been a long day so here I am in furry boot slippers, kimono and Peaky Blinders cap. Its been one of those days, like a curates egg, good in parts. Breakfast and morning meds went okay as did the clearing up and general fannying about in the morning. One of those mornings that gets lost and where there is a sense of being busy but not quite sure why. I reach solid ground abut lunchtime when I settle down to read more of Calypso. The main character is a gay author and the book centres around him and his family. Its difficult to tell if I am reading something autobiographical or a piece of entire fiction. I feel tempted to research the author and see if he wears the sort of clothes he has his main character wear, such as a triple hat and long culottes that swish as he moves. Has he really got sisters who go shopping with him in Japan and buy what sounds like appalling clothes, and did his sister commit suicide. Is it all just fiction and the is author having a giraffe. Is there some bespectacled giant of a man who is making all this up to amuse his wife and children. So I hope you can see why I am tempted to Google him. My partner and I take the car to the garage to check the tyres and fill it with petrol for tomorrow’s run to Felixstowe. That goes well and we return home to do more fannying about and reading before we go into town for lunch.

In town it is raining so we zip up and hood up as we walk to the Merchant of Venice. A strange Shakespeare based eatery that has a Lambretta inside and swing seats at the window tables. On the walls are murals of the Merchant of Venice and Shakespeare. They play over loud Italian music and we have to ask then to close the open back glass wall as its blowing a gale and bloody cold. We order drinks and pasta and chat. My lasagne was interesting as I had to hunt for the pasta in it and the garlic bread arrived as dainty triangles laid carefully on a bed of salad. It is clear that there is not a single Italian person on the staff. It appears to be an Indian Italian restaurant/coffee house. It is definitely some form of fusion. We wash our meal down with coffee and hot chocolate and then walk down to the hospital in the rain to collect my next three cycles of chemo.

There are times when you know that a service is bad. The scribbled note on the desk that “waiting time roughly 50 minutes” is a bit of a give away, that and the dispensing counter has Pidgeon holes labelled “Confidential counselling”, which is three feet away from the reception counter where everyone can here every word that is being said. At one point when we are asked to go into the waiting room because the area is confidential I almost laughed. No sooner were we in than my name was called. Everybody in a half mile radius now know that I have three cycles of chemotherapy, what my address is and date of birth, I felt like saying to the dispensing guy ” and confidentially my cock is a foot long”. My partner and I leave and march back to the car in the not so nearby hotel car park in the heavy rain, arriving fairly soaked.

The drive home was uneventful but I had just got indoors and was unloading my soggy coat when a friend called. |we chatted for a while until she had to break off to complete a chore, I took advantage of the break to do my vitals before she rang back and we were able to complete our conversation. Its been a long struggle with long COVID but she has fought her way back to begin going back to work at the end of the month, it a real achievement, especially when her employers want to keep going through there competency processes. It is at this point that I get out of my wet clothes and don my odd assortment of comfort and at hand clothes and retreat to the sofa with a Tunnocks tea cake and a glass of water, but not before I get a small suitcase out of the loft. Obviously my first task is to fill my drugs wallets for the next to weeks with my newly acquired drugs. I have this off pat now and I soon have the satisfying rattle of two full wallets and a stock pile of chemo drugs to see me through to December. I can now at least plan my life for the next three months around my 28 day injection as usual. Now that’s a strange sentence, but there you go, a 28 day cycle with hot flushes is my normal with the occasional set of bloods thrown in. Job done and drugs stored I settle down to draft the blog before the England v Scotland friendly football match. I’m expecting at least one red card.