Its Thursday afternoon and I thought I would for once draft the blog before I run out of spoons. Most days I write the blog, I do it at the end of the day when I am exhausted, spoonless and heading for bed. It probably accounts for why many of the days are so mundane. By the time I get to my bedtime state I struggle to remember what happened earlier in the day and anything that has caught my attention of any interest has turned in to a grey pulp in the fatigued mind. I cling onto to the prosaic rituals of the day like breakfast because these are the things that form the scaffolding of my life. Without this construction around me I might collapse. I never used to need this carapace around me as my internal skeleton coupled with a strong sense of self was sufficient for me to navigate the world, continue to build my inner universe and seek meaning to my existence. Cancer changed that and the medications that came with it. As I learnt what challenges it brought and what compensations I needed to make so I began to build my protective shell around me. My immediate environment needed to be more ordered. I needed to know where everything was so I did not waste energy trying to find things. My tolerance of things that I thought to be easy and turned out not to be so infuriated me, and still does. Like wise technology that constantly changed. I would get used to a system and some arsehole would decide my life would be easier if they changed a sequence or user interface optic. It just could not be left alone, no progress must happen or people would not have careers. Worst of all was the the increase in “noise”. The emotional and relentless voices of the outside world, mostly wanting my money by guilt tripping me, trying to scare me or enticing me with shit I do not need. I am almost at the point of not watching TV. The BBC , which is supposed to be advert free is full of doom and gloom, grim documentaries and its own style of moral high ground extortion. It all constitutes “noise”. I suppose worse of all is my own intolerance of others trivia which is expressed as “really important” and ” I’m entitled to my opinion” , regardless of how ill-informed, inaccurate and self serving it is. It borders on the edge of “If its my opinion then it must be true”. As I become more entwined with the battle against my cancer the less I can tolerate this “noise” and the more I withdraw into an internal world of feeding myself through reading and writing letters and the odd poem. By its nature cancer forces me to live in short bursts as I no longer have the spoons for prolonged effort. I am engaged in a marathon jog with frequent water and sponge breaks where there is no room for malfunctioning technology or people without kindness. Much of this explains my recent interest in philosophy and the idea of a good person. I’ve said before that I am not a naturally good or kind person, it does not come easily to me. Some people seem to be able to be instantly empathetic and kind, it is their nature, it is not mine.

Anyway I got up and had breakfast and then read for a while. I have finished my David Sedaris book and started on another titled Naked. Another autobiographical set of essays which so far is proving exceedingly engaging. In a strange way he reminds me of Alistair Cooke’s Letter from America but from the other end of the spectrum. Rough versus smooth but with the same penetrating powers of observation and comment.

I read for a while and then take a shower and wash my hair. I am after all going to the dentist. All smartened up I walk slowly to the dentist feeling that I might be wearing too many layers for my level of dentist anxiety. Once booked in I read for a while and then make my way into the room of pain. Today I am seeing a new dentist as my regular one is on maternity leave. She is clued up on me and catches up on my current medical status adn then gives me the oral once over. Apparently my gums are good and my teeth are no worse then they were last time. I clearly need my chipped filing done and I agree to let her excavate my tooth that might be capable. I am x-rayed and we chat about the plan going forward. That’s it, she makes me a new appointment and recommends I see the hygienist before our next appointment. I say farewell and return to the reception desk where I make my hygienist appointment and pay todays bill. I walk away relieved and feeling strangely better. That was a much better experience than I expected.

Back home I have lunch and then read some more of Naked. After a while my eldest daughter becomes available and we sit down together and work through all the legal paper work for my sister’s estate and the house sale. It takes ages to work through all the questions and to ensue what needs signing is signed and what needs dating is or is not according to need. Eventually it all gets down and I drive my eldest daughter to her uncles so he can witness some of the paper work to be signed. The visit does not take long and we are soon home again. The evening gallops in with tea and my partners singing lesson, while l watch rugby and an episode of Vincent. I finish the blog and take my night meds before taking myself off to bed. Tomorrow I must train.

Wednesday and I wake up and for once I feel a bit chipper, so I am hopeful of training today. I pop myself into my wearable blanket and head downstairs to make toast and coffee. I settle down to eat my breakfast and to read more David Sedaris. After a while I check my emails and find the quote I’ve been waiting for from our tree men. The price is reasonable so I reply and ask to fix a date. I am on a roll so I read the gas and electric meters and submit my readings. My new statement is back very quickly and I am pleased that once again the household has come in under budget for the month.

My partner is on her way out to see her mother when she picks up the post to find documents from the solicitors, they are for my eldest daughter to sign and complete. I undertake to make copies and fill the forms in on a copy set so that my eldest daughter can just fill everything in and sign them off. Sounds simple but it turns out to be a nightmare. The printer at first will not copy the documents and I spend an eternity getting the printer to work. I also have to ring the solicitors as one of the enclosures is missing. Once I get the forms copied I set about filling them, in truth there is only one that requires any detail the rest just need my eldest daughter to sign. I start to fill in the form adn pretty soon its clear that no one in the family has the information required. I start to go through other documents to try and answer what is required. It becomes a mammoth task and I end up having to run off another wedge of papers. It takes all afternoon and I am still not finished by the time my partner returns from seeing her mother.

I eventually get as far as I can. I will have to sit down with my eldest daughter and go through all the forms at some point after which we will need to find an independent witness. So I go into the evening really pissed off as I had planned to make pie for tea and that plan went out the window. I get to watch half the rugby match I had planned to watch and end up thoroughly grumpy. My partner cooks tea and we prepare to watch a series we have ben following on ITV-X. All we could get was Error code -7. So even the TV is against me today, I’ve just about had it with technology. I draft the blog while four “celebrities” and A N Other flog their way from somewhere south to north Finland. I feel myself drooping and an underlying irritability. My new plan for the rest of today is take my night meds and go to bed and read. Tomorrow I am going to the dentist, which will open up another chapter of pain. So what started as a day of feeling chipper has end up as one of feeling homicidal.

Tuesday and I wake up late, my partner having gone off to work, out of the house type work. I feel groggy and not sure why but as usual I check my messages and find one from my daughter saying that there is a solicitor’s email saying that probate has been granted on my sisters estate. I get up and check my emails and sure enough there it is in black and white. It means that papers will be with the solicitor in five days. There follows some exchanges of emails between myself and the solicitor about arrangements and the disposal of my sisters house as part of the estate. This all takes time of course. I ring my son on WhatsApp in Sweden and up date him on how things are going. We have a long chat about roofing and concrete water proofing and then the grandchildren. It appears that Swedish bureaucracy is even worse than ours, its taking for ever to get his residency card, citizenship and passport. I clear the kitchen and load Daisy before finally getting myself some toast and a drink. My eldest daughter and I have a long chat while I nibble away at my toast until finally I decide its time to get dressed properly. In fact I have decided to get into my training gear and try and make the effort.

On my way to get changed I go to take my morning meds with what’s left of my coffee and find that I had not taken last nights chemo. It was was the last day in my drugs wallets so I do not know how I missed this. My drugs wallets need filling so I take time out to refill my two wallets that will see me through the next two weeks. Finally I get changed into my training gear and head for the garage. I have not trained for 18 days, unforgivable really but I’ve been away and also feeling overwhelmed by fatigue My PSI score has been under 100 for days now and my fitness age has been going up rapidly on the App. I am determined to get it back to 100, which is considered the healthy level. So I get on the rowing machine and set of for a 45 minute row at the slowest pace I’ve ever rowed at. It is all about my fear of passing blood again, which has contributed greatly to my reluctance to train along side the fatigue. I row steadily for the 45 minutes with the only aim to be to get to the end and to get my hit my PSI 100 point mark. At the end I check my PSI score, its 94. I am disappointed.

I stare at my fitness App on my phone in disbelief and disappointment, I am so irritated with myself. To do more risks passing blood is my thought and then I think “fuck it”, I lower the resistance a notch to level 3 and set off again for another 15 minutes. It goes reasonably well and when the clock runs down I am instantly checking my PSI score.

I check the fitness App and find I have hit a PSI of 119. So I have hit my target. As usual I retreat to the sofa and record my session in my food and exercise journal and the stare into space for a while. I run a bath and when I go for my first post exercise piss I am relieved to see that it is clear and blood free. I have a long , warm bath bomb bath and read more of David Sedaris. Eventually I get out, get dry and throw on my wearable leopards head blanket with the huge kangaroo pocket on the front of it. There are very few if any spoons left to spend so I sit down to draft the blog as the evening drifts towards me. I have a headache so take paracetamol, which is something I am doing more often these days. Today I am not sure if its the lack of food, lack of yesterdays chemo meds, the effort of rowing or the weight of my ponytail. So I shall eat this evening having put the bins out and hopefully read and watch TV, I think the women’s England team are playing tonight. Tonight I will make sure I take my meds before bed. My priority tomorrow is to train again, now I have started again I must keep going. None of this is very exciting but it is the grind that keeps me alive for longer, living with cancer is all about this and finding joy in the everyday. My Michaelmas daisies are coming into bloom.

Monday and I pull myself to the surface where I hear voices at work. I breakfast and then begin a stream of life admin. I book a dentist appointment and then spend time trying to book into to see my GP. I explain its not urgent and I can wait a couple of days but regardless of that I have to ring in the following morning to fight for an appointment on the day, because todays appointments are full. Its a special kind of madness I think. There is an email from my solicitor regarding my sisters estate and I make a couple of calls and finally get some business sorted. It seems to take for ever. I find time to read some more David Sedaris and get to lunch time. I can feel myself getting drained. Lunch is with my partner on the patio after which I refill the bird feeders and the squirrel box. In a last throw of the spoons I plant out the rest of the plants into the back garden pots. My reward is my first tomatoes of the year!

I know that Tesco is going to deliver so I move my car and then read for a while. It takes it toll so I update my vitals excel spread sheet and check my average blood pressure so far on this fourth cycle of Chemo. The post delivers a letter to me from a friend in her catachrestic green ink. I settle down and read it slowly. I never get over the power of a letters, there is just nothing like like the joy and pleasure of having something written for you, it a special kind of sharing. I nap for a while and the Tesco deliver. There is the usual unpacking and squirreling and then I return to the sofa to read.

I slide into the evening to eat tea with my partner before she goes out to a village meeting that is forming a new community choir. I watch a film and the when my partner returns we watch the final episode of a series about Irelands trafficked children. Night meds and bed. Today has been a day of small bursts of activity and then rests. I never got to train, each time I thought about it I got overwhelmed. I know its part of the meds side effects but I ‘m struggling to overcome my anxieties about both the effects of exercising and my cancer. Tomorrow is another day to give it a go.

Saturday and its the Autumn Equinox, not that it will make any difference to my day to day life, although it is chilly and makes me wonder if its time to turn the house heating on or not. I decide “not” remembering that the thick maximum Tog duvets have yet to be put on. I had promised my partner an exciting trip to the garden centre for lunch after she had had her hair trimmed. So by ten o’clock I was siting in the gym lounge sipping coffee and eating a bacon bun while my partner was in the hairdressers in the same complex. I continue to read David Sedaris’s Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls. He is humorous and a sharp observer of his environment but he paints a jaundiced picture of himself, certainly of someone I would not give much time for. Maybe that is because he’s so candidly open and honest about himself and how he feels, which is admirable, but off putting with so many strangers. Can’t help feeling there is a lack of judgement in there at times. His now long term partner has obviously managed to find a way of accommodating it and also the fact that he ( the long term partner ) appears in his partners writings. I also reread my letter from the friend in Scotland. She manages to pack so much into a letter as she does into life, still working as a therapist she manages to do painting courses and is now off to CERN to see the Hadron Collider for two weeks as she has an interest to particle physics and its connection to Jungian thinking. Indomitable is the word I would use to describe her.

My partner reappears, trimmed and we drive to one of the local garden centres for lunch. At heart I am a child and love a good milkshake, which this pace does well. Over smoked salmon bagels we discuss the experience of retirement as I have finally managed to break free of all work and she is considering it. It took me years to really let go of work and all the ego and identity attachments that came with it, plus fears and fantasies about poverty and old age. Old age by the way is independent of poverty, its just a fucking pain in the arse whether you are poor or not. We chatted for a while with me listing all the things I do not have to concern myself with now and how my choices have expanded. There are and awful lot of “shoulds” and “oughts” that have just disappeared. It probably does not make me a very nice person or a good person but at least I leave people alone and do not interfere, I just sit and read stuff, watch sport and on occasions write a poem or two. I recycle, try not to use too much energy, eat reasonable amounts, do not buy crap or fashion and look after my garden. I write letters to the people I like who I do not live with and keep my WhatApping in control, feed the squirrels and birds, beyond that I no longer make any kind of contribution. So as I said since my real retirement my choices have expanded and I chose not to use them. I like to think that I quietly battle my cancer and live a quiet life, blogging as I go.

Our conversation finished we drive home with a boot full of pansies and viola’s. As soon as I am home I am planting up the pots in the front of the house, there is now a splash of colour along the houses apron. I move to the back and pot up some more but I get tired and run out of spoons quite suddenly. I quickly water the new plants before it rains ( a certain kind of gardener madness) and put the tools away. I’m in front of the TV in time for the first of two world cup rugby matches of the day. As evening slides into being the family eat a simple tea. Its simple because everyone, particularly my partner, are tired of having to think about what to eat. Sometimes no one in the household can face the the juggle of protein, carbs and fats into a “its healthy for you” meal. Sometime everyone just goes “yea beans on toast sounds great”. And it is.

I watch the Ireland v South Africa match and it is BRUTAL. I’ve not seen such a physical match in a long time. It was played at a pace and level of confrontation that take sport beyond a quick Saturday afternoon run out into something entirely different. By the end of the match I am drained, Ireland won, and for light relief I find Strictly on the BBC i-player. Its the opening show of the new season but I can only manage the first two couples before I have to go to bed. I am overcome by waves of fatigue and have nothing left in the tank. I take my chemo meds and head for bed. The blog must wait till tomorrow.

Sunday arrives and I wake up cold and headachy. It feels like being a storm tossed galleon desperate to tie up in a harbour and weather the storm. I get up and make my partner and I warm drinks and then check all the usual things I do on my phone. Getting up is a slow process as is getting dressed but once achieved there are bacon sandwiches and more coffee. I have of course weighed myself and find myself in the disgustingly obese category. I weigh in a 98.5 Kilos since a fortnight ago. Over the holiday and since I have not trained, I was thoroughly spooked by the the last time I passed blood in my urine while on holiday after what I thought was a short walk. Since then I’ve lacked the motivation or courage to kit up and go and row even though I know it is the right thing to do. Its a real catch 22, row and risk the anxiety of seeing blood again or not row and know I am not doing the best thing to alleviate the Chemo side effects.

Post breakfast my partner and I go off to the garden centre to buy this evenings meal and to stock up with fruit and vegetables. It is our usual routine broken only this time by acquiring a present for my partners birthday in December. Once home we unload and I head for the sofa to rest and to catch upon drafting the blog. I do not know if it is the Chemo but I find it increasingly difficult to maintain my concentration to drat the blog, I find myself swept over by tiredness and the ability to type accurately and to express myself properly. I have a sense that I am inflicting increasingly banal stuff on people due to flagging powers, but as someone said to me the other day “your blog is not meant to entertain”, that runs counter to the inner me that has always had the urge to do stand up.

The evening sees me eat and watch rugby before downing my night meds and getting myself to bed. Tomorrow is another Monday on which I have the opportunity to gather myself up again and start once more to take control of the aspects of my life that have slipped. Its a day to take a deep breath and go again.

Its Friday and I wake up not in the spare room for the first time since injection Monday so the signs are good. So by 10:00am I am breakfasted, medicated and dressed. I do my usual email and message check and then opened up my laptop. In the process of trying to organise the logistics of the coffee table I live on, I knock over the remnants of my morning coffee, sending them all over the coffee table, ironic really spilling coffee on a coffee table. I am infuriated by my clumsiness and confined space and mutter loudly to my self as I get the kitchen towel and mop up the tsunami of brown liquid. I’ve had enough and realise I need to get out of the house so I pack my traveling office (spotted handkerchief on a stick) and drive off to the gym.

The gym is full of people not my family and not at work with a bar and kitchen. I am spoilt for choice of sofas and tables. I choose one and get set up to write and then get myself a huge coffee and bacon brioche. That is me for he next few hours, just having coffee and writing letters. By mid afternoon I am feeling better and choose a new sofa to sit in and read more of my David Sedaris and sip a cold coke. The kick off time of todays World Cup Rugby match is 4:45pm so I am to get home for the kick off. Its a fine judgement of traffic congestion balanced against the diversion to the post box on the way home. At my calculated time I set off and almost immediately suffer heart sink syndrome as I see the traffic backed up on my chosen route home. I am lucky and manage to get under way and with judicious bursts of speed I get to post my letters and get my arse in front of the TV thirty seconds after kick off. To my delight there is a letter for me from a friend and old work colleague who has retired but seems to be maintaining a very busy life and practice. So I watch Argentina beat Samoa, eat tea cooked by my partner and read my friends letter. It is a delight and full of things that make me think and amuse me. It also makes me jealous as she is going on a “holiday” to visit CERN and the Hadron Collider as she has an interest in particle physics along with art, therapy and many other things. It is a letter I shall reread and eventually reply to. I discover to my delight that I am able to watch the Lioness’s beat Scotland 2-1 in a scrappy match. Its a chilly evening and so I put some heating on, autumn seems to have arrived sharply tonight. With no more sport to watch I draft the blog, take my meds and go to bed feeling that I have a cold coming on. I shall blame the flu jab from Monday if it comes true.

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.