Up early as my household goes off to work. I’m not feeling my best, headachy and sluggish, but I get up and do breakfast as I catch up with the news and my cyber litter. I clear the kitchen and then I go to the Shed where I settle in to write letters. This is where I stay as the weather turns showery. Lunchtime comes around and I make my self soup to take back to the Shed along with the treasure of two letters from friends. As I sip my soup in the Shed I read my letters. They are a mixture of joyful adventures, holidays and sad news. From the wonders of CERN to learning that a friends daughter, who I have known since she was a young girl has been diagnosed with cancer. It’s heart breaking and desperately sad.

I return to writing letters and sending messages until I can longer focus. I get messages from friends who are preparing to go trick or treating, clearly there are excited with Halloween. With the Shed closed down I go to the post office to send my letters returning to get ready to train. I am low on spoons but its been five days since I last trained and I need to train to keep the worst of the chemo side effects at bay. I get into my kit and go to the garage to the rowing machine. There is a chill in the air and already the light is failing. I get going on my forty five minute session. I am sluggish and stiff after five days but I persist and get to the end just short of my usual standard.

Unstrapped from the rower I am back on the sofa recording the session. I head for a bath with a bath bomb addition. Once in I reread my letters, this is where my partner finds me when she returns from work. The evening starts with drafting the blog and then having a meal. I am more or less out of spoons now and will watch tonight’s football match between the Belgium and England women’s teams.

Saturday and Sunday are spent with my youngest daughter and Dangerous Beans my new grandson. It is a weekend that is of course baby centred, but it is a delight. This new baby is a very content little person and sleeps extremely peacefully. So the family lazes and rests for two days. Saturday is a full moon. I always feel I should make more of an effort to take notice of it.

Sunday is a lazy day, where we catch up and wait for my youngest daughters partner to return from his brothers break away. Its good to be able to rest ahead of the drive back and to agree a time to see each other again before Christmas. The clocks have gone back and soon it will be dark by five o’clock in the evening, so it makes me aware of how the year has moved on and how much there is now to organise for the winter season.

In the early afternoon we set off for home and drive the slower way home. Once home I unpack and settle down for the evening, caching up with Strictly and Lupin. I check the post and find two post cards from friends who have been on their travels, one excitingly from a trip to the Hadron Collider at CERN. My driving and weekend catch up with me over the evening and I tire quickly. I take my meds and go to bed.

Monday and I wake to my usual routine of checking my messages and cyber litter but there is nothing of any import there that needs my attention. I make breakfast and make a to do list for the day. There is yet more life admin to do around my sisters estate, a bathroom light needs mending, which means a trip to the loft. The blog needs a catch up, which is started early. I find my motivation to write the blog is waning , whether this is part of my meds side effects, or a sense of lack of energy, I’m not sure but its important to keep going and remember the original reason I set the blog up.

By mid afternoon all my things to do are done. Lunch has been taken and the daily crossword puzzles completed, but with a struggle, I do not feel particularly chipper today. I briefly return to the blog before refilling the bird and squirrel feeders. I am beginning to come down with a cold and know that in a couple of days time the forecast is for a lot of rain and wind. I still have some of my; The Good Place and Philosophy book to finish so I am hoping to read my way through the inclement weather when it arrives. I see the bright sunshine in the garden and I know I should be taking advantage of it before the storms arrive but today is one of those days where I feel without energy to do much at all. I’m aware that I am coming to the end of cycle 5 of my chemo and that I have bloods to do on Friday. It feels like there is a limit to how much “stuff” I can keep pushing into my body, however the blood results will tell me if it has been worth it these past couple of months. If it has been then I will push on with cycle six and my oncology review on November the 30th.

My evening goes smoothly, Tesco deliver just after I have eaten and then I get myself sofa’d with a brandy and watch TV. Its quiz night and I marvel at others knowledge and occasionally give a whoop of joy and surprise when I get a question right. Just occasionally I get a run of two or three mainly because some of the obscure bits of random information that I’ve collected over the years have their moment of use. The news is miserable, so I take my night time meds and take myself to bed. Tomorrow is a day that I must train, if I manage that I will be content.

Friday starts in a strange bed, double duveted and vey snug. Its been a reasonable night with my usual interruptions. My partner goes off to spend some bonding time with youngest daughter and grandson. I do my usual cyber checks and take my morning meds before getting myself a new coffee and sitting in the lounge with my trusty laptop. I am joined by the rest of the family where we plan the day and enjoy playing videos of babies laughing to the young grandson much to his bemusement.

After bacon sandwiches and some slow time we all go off to a centre in the forest and go for a walk having wrestled the equivalent of an all terrain buggy into the boot of the car. When we arrive we are dismayed to see a huge contingent of school folk on their half term treat to the woods, but they soon disperse. Our walk is short, vey short as we all experience the up hill climb as being beyond our desires for a drink and a muffin. So we return to the café and settle down to our treats. The young grand son is by degrees not impressed and yawny and is clear in his communication of the fact.

We sit for a long time people watching and comparing buggies and of course babies. Ours was by far the best. With the drinks and cakes gone, as were most of the people we head for home. While dinner is being cooked I sneak off to read and nap before the evening meal. The evening meal is taken and after I clear away and wash up, I felt it was he least I could do having slept a bit during its preparation. So at 8 o’clock as young grandson goes off to bed I sit and watch England beat Argentina in the third place play of the world rugby cup. By now I know I am running out of spoons and draft the blog before taking my night meds and getting yet another early night. It must the fresh air of the forest that is making me tired or just being in another environment away from home. Either way I retreat to the ocean of night and look to sleep.

Thursday and I wake to a travel and grandson day. Its all been very simple really, eat, pack car, and drive to the forest to see my youngest daughter and our new grandson. We have made the trip to be helpful while my daughter’s partner is away with his brothers on an annual beak. It all goes well and by 2:30 pm we arrive.

What follows is a lot of making a fuss of a three month old and eating well and lazing around. I was proud to be left to look after my grandson while my partner and our daughter went to the shops to get food. It was not an onerous task as the young man slept the entire time with an occasional rock of his lounger.

There have been odd moments during the day when I have wished friends happy birthday and seen other friend’s daughter win a prize for best Halloween pumpkin but sitting quietly watching my baby grandson sleep has been truly lovely. So I shall end my simple day by taking my meds and having an early night and getting used to a strange bed. I end the day spoonless from the drive but draft the blog before I do so.

Wednesday and after a brief rummage through my phone I am up and running with my mental to do list. Breakfast adn coffee and I am into my life admin, there are appointments to book, birthdays and anniversaries to acknowledge and more estate stuff to be done. So no reading time in the morning for reading. This morning was earmarked for getting my next set of appoints lined up. I need a time to get jabbed and two to have bloods taken. Sounds straight forward and it is if I can get through to the GP surgery. Having made myself comfortable I settle down for the long phone in. First phase is the line busy stage, which seems to go on for ever, either there are a lot of people quicker on the redial than me or the receptionist is listing to a life story of adn medical history of great complexity and detail. Finally I am blessed with the “our receptionists are busy, please stay on the line” message and know I am in the cyber holding pen. There is no music to keep me entertained, like “I will survive”, just the same “we are busy” message to keep me engaged. It seems an age before a voice says hello. Once at this stage it is all very smooth and efficient. By the time I am off the phone there are confirmation text messages on my phone. My phone calendar gets updated and I move on.

There is yet more paperwork to be done for my sisters estate but I finally get to the stage where I can email the solicitors who are administering the estate. I think I am clear for the day when another tax form arrives and has to be dealt with. Its not all bad as apparently I am getting my winter fuel allowance soon, which prompts me to do the house accounts. By lunchtime there is nothing else I can do to organise either finances or health.

Lunch with Steph’s Packed Lunch and I am ready for my afternoon chores while my partner visits her mother. Having cleared the kitchen and got rid of yet more recycling I drove to the garden centre to buy provisions for our weekend away. Time is rushing by and I can feel myself running out of spoons so I get myself home and take a few minutes to check my emails again and send some messages. Once I had gained my breathe I put my washing away took my vitals and got changed to train. My last chance before going away so I need to take it or I will not hold of the medication side effects. I get into the garage and strap myself into the rowing machine and set off on a 45 minute session. I was determined to give this a go and at least try and get to my usual standard. The temperature has dropped so am glad for my track suit for the first fifteen minutes after which I get really hot. By the end of the session I am a pool of sweat but a happy person as I made my standards and some.

As the say in the Good Place, Forking awesome. I am totally spoonless now but happy. I head for the sofa, record the session and then change into evening wear lounge wear. I draft the blog and know I shall stare in to space for a while, watch football followed by Celebrity Race Across the World and then meander my way to night meds and bed. The packing for tomorrows journey can wait till the morning as can checking the car. I am truly spent.

Tuesday rolls around and I wake up after a decent nights sleep. Rather than dash about I check my messages, mail and other electronic ephemera. I read for a while and the more I read the more convinced I am that I got therapeutic communities all wrong and that what I was doing all those years was more to do with practical ethical philosophy. I’m not going to explain but for a fleeting moment I was tempted to write a paper for the therapeutic community journal. Then I remembered that I have stopped trying to be useful and got up and had breakfast.

Having fed I do my vitals for the first time and then set about doing the paper work that needs to be done for my sisters estate. It inevitably means a trip to the post office and as its Tuesday putting bins out and bringing in the car. It is that time in a fortnight that I get to fill my drugs wallets for the next two weeks. Its a task that means I do not miss my meds and allows me to keep track of where I am in my chemo cycle. With the mundane done I can settle down to read more of The Good Place and Philosophy. I continue to gather new ideas about my new frame work for Therapeutic Communities where I redefine them from being search engines for meaning to being ethics pumps. An unusual way to spend a morning. I have lunch with my partner and do the days crossword clues.

My afternoon was spent putting the garden to bed for the winter. All the garden furniture is not neatly under cover and weighted down to resist the rigours of the winter storms. There is still some tying down to do and some cutting down to be done but if the worst comes to the worst the garden will get through. Having had my burst of energy I return to my reading and another set of vitals. Before I know it I’m eating tea and slipping into watching the latest binge watch: Lupin. It inevitably ends with night meds and bed. Its been another ordinary day but once again there have been kind messages from friends during the day.

Monday, again. Wake and check the usual sites. Right I am updated, no messages, no emails, and the world is as it was yesterday. My bank details no different and there’s nothing in the diary apart from Tesco, so a usual Monday. So breakfast and meds and my day is my own.

When my day is my own and its a Monday, its a laundry day, so I excavate the laundry basket and get a load in then escape to the Shed. I refill the squirrel feeder and the bird feeders, which I regard as my ticket into The Good Place on the basis that in the final reckoning I can say that at least I fed the squirrels and the birds. I light my scented candle, my last one, so they can go on my Christmas list, and sit at my Shed table and write a letter. The oncologist told me this current chemo would slow me down and he is not wrong, its a sort of brain fog, my stream of consciousness seems to be slowed or at least less able to jump along from idea to idea, making connections and applying wit. Its probably reflected in the blog, which will explain why fewer people are accessing it. No surprise really if it reflects my dullness at the moment. So it takes me longer to write letters at the moment. By lunchtime I’ve managed a single letter. I can do no more and return to the house where my laundry is waiting to be hung out.

With a line full of T shirts and underwear I have lunch with my partner . I sip soup and ponder over todays cross words. These too can take longer to complete but I stick at it and get them completed. I take a walk over to the post box and note that the collection flag on the post box says Wednesday and I wonder if that is true or whether collection bunnies just can’t be arsed to change the flag when they empty the pillar box. It makes a mockery of first class delivery if there has been a random decision not to collect daily from the pillar box outside the local in shop post office. I am hoping it is a case of the occasional collecting person having quietly quit and cant be arse to change the next collection flag. Today being Monday and the flag saying Wednesday I can only assume that it is either accurate or multiple collectors since last Wednesday could not be arsed, unless there has been a dumping of the system altogether since last Wednesday. I’m not sure why this exercises me so much, something about customer service I guess and the recent rise in first class stamps. Of course this will not stop me writing letters but it is making me think a pigeon loft might not be such a bad idea after all. Perhaps a Harry Potter owl but I fear that is too fanciful. I go home to download tax papers and charge my Fitbit. I’m mentally tinkering with the idea of doing an half hour on the rower, I need the PSI points. While I wait I draft a bit more of the blog.

Yep I trained for 45 minutes and almost made my usual standard 9K and 600 calories for the time. With no rest I took in my washing and hung it on the drier to finish off, no tumble drying here for a while, the heating is already on twice a day. I run off the capital gains tax forms for the estate and will get them gone tomorrow.

Its evening and I am knackered, totally spoonless, yet there are still the joys of a late evening Tesco delivery to come. I down a pint of effervescent paracetamol and draft more of the blog before tea. There will be Lupin on Netflix tonight while we wait for Tesco and then I shall be off to bed. Its been a rugged day to day but underneath it there is a flow of good, messages from friends and reminders that my pixies are still functional and I am still standing.

Sunday and I wake up to nothing of note. I make warm drinks for my partner and myself and then enter into the Sunday competition of who is going to be last to get up. As I get hungry I decide I need some motivational music so I get Alexa to play the Sorcerer’s Apprentice to get me up. It works!

My day then started with a mistake. I thought it would be good to have kippers on toast for breakfast. Won’t be doing that again, not that they were not nice but I was eating them for the rest of the day. I think my cholesterol level will have to stay as it is rather than eat kippers to help lower it. My partner goes to the gym after face timing our youngest daughter. I hoover the house through but find it blows my spoon economy out of the water. I take my vitals and update my Excel spread sheet. The personal arithmetic remains good so I find my lack of energy and increasing anxiety frustrating. I rest for a while before running off some of the papers that have come through on my sisters estate. All I have energy for is watching the rugby match on TV. So I slide into the evening, drafting the blog, ultimately to take my night meds and going to bed.

I feel like I am sliding, I’m not sure why, but I know I look like I should be able to do all the old Roland things I used to do, but I can’t. Inside is where the battle is going on. I am applying all my psychological tricks on one front while I physically wrestle with the cancer on the chemo front. Its tiring, so I take my time. Reading helps, training helps and quiet helps.

Saturday and I wake up with a painful back having managed to pull it getting out of bed to have a piss. How ridiculous is that. I drink my coffee and easy myself up for breakfast. A slowly and careful muesli and coffee and then I run off the poems I am going to take to the poetry stanza later. I also run off my green flag stuff so that my partner can have a copy in the car. Morning meds and vitals get done and I choose an ice hockey jersey for the day. Penquins is my choice. I get myself ready including my back support that I used to use when I used weights. My partner goes to lunch with a friend and I head for the poetry Stanza.

On the way to the venue I check my tyres hoping that the repaired one has held its pressure, to my relief it has so I am able to carry on my journey with confidence in the car. I arrive early and as I can not get into the community centre I get a sandwich and red bull from the garage and dine in my car while I check football scores. The community hall gets opened and we all get in and set up the table and chairs. Today there are nine of us and my poem get read third and is kindly received.

Twenty three and a half
By twenty three and a half inches.
A measuring tape.
Two laptops and stands
With mouse and mat, top layer.
Down.
Used envelop, deceased RAC card,
Hard drives, external.
Hair band, rubber band, box cutter,
Ear buds, biro, gimlet.
USB stick, glasses, glasses reading,
Bulldog clip, paper clip, expended paracetamol.
Paper note, post office receipt, postage stamps.
Sticky note flags, silver ring box, 
Remote and coffee glass;
Almost overlooked the fifty pence pieces, rare.
This is the archaeology of a dying life,
Or, another instillation by Tracey.

								349. 03-08-2023 @ 10:30

After Tracey Emin. Guide price £50,000. If you think £50,000 is a joke, remember Tracey Emin’s bed installation went for £2,400,000 purportedly representing her struggle with a period of severe emotional flux, so I reckon that wrestling with stage 4 cancer got to be worth at least £50,000. You see how absurd the world is and must not be taken seriously.

My back up poem was a lighter one, but not inconsequential, which I might share next time.

It’s time.
Time to say farewell,
bite the bullet and concede to the scythe.
Like the inevitably
Of harvest,
I yield.
Carefully I select
the items,
and with them the memories.
With each comes stitched in
reminiscences. 
Each pair are transitional items
that will be jettisoned,
recycled or forgotten.
Reality confrontation
at a brutal level.
A mirror that won’t be denied
And is now avoided.
I’m never going to be the same 
and gone is the possibility.
I am beyond any clever fix
My waist line will never again be 36.

The session moves on and we read and discuss more poems. The variety is stimulating and the discussions are full of interesting new knowledge as people struggle to bring experiences together. I learnt that looking to have ones “ashes hauled” is a medieval way of saying having sex. There was apparently a woman called Elizbeth Heyrick who lead a women’s campaign against slavery before it was outlawed. Because women were disenfranchised and had no voice they made work bags on which they sewed symbols and slogans that supported the anti-slavery movement. The session comes to an end and we pack up the furniture before I drive home.

The house is locked up when I get home so I get myself set on the sofa and start to draft the blog to the accompaniment of a woman’s football match in the background. My partner returns and we eat a simple tea before watching England play South Africa in the Rugby World Cup. They lose by a single point. I watch Strictly on catch up and then down my night meds before going to bed.

Friday again and I wake after a dreamless less night. I do not dwell in bed, which is lucky as I get the last two slices of bread to have with my eggs this morning. I watch the news on TV and see that both bi-elections have been won by Labour. There are the usual claims and counter claims about turnout and 13 years of failing government. The last time it was “13 years of Tory mismanagement” when Harold Wilson got in for Labour. Theses things come around again if you wait long enough, it would appear that 13 years is as long as the British public can tolerate any one party being in power. Due to these “historic” swings to Labour the coming year year will be nothing but wen the next general election will be. I think I might choose to cut down radically on my screen time.

My partner tries to go to her physio appointment but finds that storm Babet has flooded the roads on the way so she returns. Fortunately we live on a hill and do not get flood but every road out of the village has dips in them that can flood at times. I decide I have to train today and get into my gear. I really do not feel like it but I know that I must make the effort. My anxiety about doing so is quite high but I must overcome them. In the garage I settle down on the rower and set myself to go for 45 minutes. My hope is it will earn my enough PSI points to get me over the 100 mark. I start out very tentatively almost waiting for something to happen. As I warm up I get into a rhythm and manage the 45 minutes. Its a poor distance and lower than usual calories but given this is the first session in 9 days it will have to do.

I take a few minutes to record the session and indulge in a Rowntree’s Fruit Pastille lolly, my latest addiction. They have replaced chocolate, cakes and biscuits. Any early afternoon bath is next on the list and I am soon sloshing about and sinking back to listen to the lunch time concert on Radio 4. It is a delicious and relaxing time. I really should do this more often.

I do a set of post training vitals and get comfortable to have a nap but find that the afternoon concert on Radio 4 is Schubert’s 9th symphony, a bit of a cracker so I just lay back and let the music wash over me. My partner thinks I fell asleep but I know she looked in on me twice. This is what retirement is about, or at least one of the things. By the time the concert is over I’m peckish, so I indulge in cheese, oatcakes and pickled onions, another joy of retirement. I continue to read The Good Place and Philosophy and I am fascinated to learn that someone has done experiments with children to see what they would do with the “Trolley Dilemma”. Basically a train is going down a track out of control and is going to kill five people but it can avoid doing so by diverting down a side track with only one person on it and killing them. You can divert the train, so what would you do? This is what a two year old did.

Who said philosophy can’t be fun. I continue to read till early evening when I eat tea with my partner, draft the blog and settle down to watch the first world cup rugby semi final between New Zealand and Argentina. It turns out to be a rout with New Zealand wining massively. A quick burst of Have I Got News For You and I am downing my night meds and heading for bed. Tomorrow is Poetry Stanza day so I guess I’ll be out and about this week after all.