Wednesday and I wake early and do my daily phone life admin while I drink a coffee. I add a Tesco order to that task list and very quickly life is sorted. All I have to do now is eat breakfast, take my meds and I am ready to select this months poem for the Stanza meeting on Saturday (a face to face meeting) and read the instructions for tomorrows PET-CT scan. At the moment I know that I cannot train within 24 hours of the scan so I will be training this morning. So the day is off to a flyer and to my delight I get a message that my new Neil Gaiman novel is only two stops away, so my idle pre scan time is now filled. Life can be good at times. I look over some whiskeys and select one as a birthday present for an old colleague of mine. It might arrive slightly early but I think better early than late.

My new Neil Gaiman book, Anansi Boys, arrives before I leave to go to the garage to train. I am very tempted to start to read but I know I must not get hooked so I grit my teeth and go to the garage.

I settle into the rower and set myself up for an hours row at my soft level. It goes okay, I burn off 800+ calories and go more than 12 kilometres. My new fit bit tells me that I have a 231 PAI (100 PAI necessary for an increased chance of avoiding heart disease, and a whole host of other conditions that fitness wards off) and the same App tells me my fitness age is now down to 45! I am beginning to believe that I am the fittest stage four meta static prostate cancer guy around for my actual age, but I know that some where a fellow fighter will be running an ultra marathon across a desert with only Kenda Mint Cake and a thimble full of water to survive on, so I’ll try to get over myself.

Post session I bring the bins in and then change into my casual reading lounge wear and feed myself chicken soup and cherries. Nothing left now but an afternoon of reading, feeding the hedgehog, or at least checking the hedgehog canteen. I know there is a football match to watch tonight while my partner is out with a friend dining but I suspect Anansi Boys might divert me. That and trying to decide which, if any, poem I take to the Stanza on Saturday.

I was right about Anansi Boys diverting me but I did decide on my poem for the Stanza this month. I copy it here as it is related to both poetry and cancer. Its night meds for me and then bed before tomorrows adventure scan.

I can’t write,
I’m uninspired,
It’s the cold,
the sleet
that hangs around 
my heart.
Somehow, I am not working, 
frozen and iced up.
The world holds no interest,	
no flow or inspiration.
So, this is winter 
Snowed in and
Snowed under.
When I lose my poetry
I’ve lost engagement,
I no longer notice,
I’m emotionally immobile.
It is a little death,
the other end of orgasm.
Around me the world is 2D
And reality is debatable,
Nothing tugs, knocks, impinges,
I’m hard wrapped in a shell.
Inside are unmet needs
that dare not say their names, 
and the Dark and Tricky
ripples ominously, whispering,
“You are mine”.
Gone are the days 
When a brandy and a decent shag
would see the world right.
This is what being at war
with cancer in your balls
does to you.
Fuck cancer?
I should be so lucky.

Monday, I wake to an empty house, eat breakfast, take my meds and then do very little for the rest of the day. All I did was the following:

1. Write letters all morning in the Shed.
2. Read Neverwhere from lunch till 0:48 Tuesday morning.
3. Occasional WhatsApp messages.
4. Took the Tesco order in, hurray I will not starve for another week.
5. Fed the hedgehog.

That’s it. Took my night meds and slept with a head full of book.

Tuesday, breakfast meds and more reading. Ignoring Valentines Day, just another commercial crap fest. I shall fill my partners car with petrol, what could be better in these days of grey austerity and joyless world? I note that this Saturday is a Poetry Stanza meeting and also that I have not had the usual email asking for contributions, so my Dark and Tricky slips into paranoid mode, ridiculous of course but that’s me for you. I send a reasonable email to check my paranoia and whether I’ve got the date right.

Email does the trick, the Stanza is confirmed. I then read a WhatsApp post from a friend who describes the argument she just had with herself about going swimming and the internal tussle that went on to get her to the pool. This was serendipitous as I was having that vey argument with myself as to whether to go to the gym or not. Like her I won the argument with my SELF and got ready to go and do a session. My SELF can be a real pain in the arse at times but in general I am quite fond of my SELF as it seems to be generally trying to get me to be kind to myself. I drive to the gym filling my partners car on the way. I do a session on a cross trainer and work one or two weights machines. Its a reasonable session to start the week with.

I sit in the club lounge post session drinking coffee and eating a bacon roll while reflecting that I feel much better for making the effort. I had made a comment to a friend earlier in the day that “life had been a bit heavy to lug about” over the last couple of days. The lesson is always the same, if I make the effort I feel better for it I although this time I think I am dragging some anxiety about my PET-CT on Thursday around with me. I’m not sure what is the best outcome, whether it is “better” to have cancer that is “chunky” enough to “spot weld” or not. If not then it comes back to reliance on the available drugs, and the new one does not sound too much fun. My guess is this is part of what I am “lugging ” around. I drive home, put the bins out and change into my “Bedroom Athletics” woolly boots and lounge pants before doing todays crossword. While my partner fixes tea I catch up on drafting the blog. I’ve already ordered my next Neil Gaiman novel, Anansi Boys, another novel in the American Gods series, so I suspect I shall be immersed in that when it arrives tomorrow. In the meantime I have to decide which poem, if any, to present to the Poetry Stanza group on Saturday. My recent stuff is quite personal but I guess it is what it is and I am where I am so I guess they will get it. I have toll Thursday to decide and send it off, if at all. There is a football match to watch tonight and then I will go to bed early to make up for last nights readathon.

Sunday and I wake to the sound of household chores being done. I’m slow to get up but when I do I am greeted with a bacon sandwich and coffee. Of course I weigh myself before I eat and wish I had not. I weigh in at 98.6 kilos. I am disappointed as my weight was going down during the week. I feel a mixture of anger at myself and irritation with myself. Post sandwich I while away time knowing that the rugby I want to watch is on later.

My partner and I face time our youngest daughter. We chat for a while and talk about cars and the possible options going forward. After the call my partner and I spend time researching cars and thinking through options. There is a little time before the rugby starts so I gather up the garden camera and begin to check it with little expectation of anything exciting. To my delight and surprise the hedgehog appears. My hog is out of hibernation! This is worthy of a whoop and a skip. From the camera I ascertain that the hog is out and about quite a lot, but the 20th of January is the day the hog has chosen to remerge from his winter sleep, so Spring is on the way.

The rugby starts and I stop everything to watch the match. Its a good match and worth the effort to watch. Half time arrives and by chance Amazon deliver my new slippers and a book. I watch the second half of the game in my new and very cosy slippers.

With the joy of cosy feet I watch England beat Italy and then turn my attention back to sorting out the pictures from the garden camera. The hog is very active and going to the hog canteen so I will need to get some food into the canteen tomorrow and ensure my hog gets a good wake up meal. I start to read my new book as tea is being prepared. Its another Neil Gaiman novel, his first, Neverwhere. Within two pages I am intrigued.

I eat tea and then draft the blog as the TV provides wallpaper and my partner goes for a bath. There is time to drift through, a Tesco order to revamp and then the tricky decision of whether to watch the Super Bowl or not. Tricky decision as the actual sport content is good but all the typical American fanning farting and fucking about that surrounds it makes it a marathon not a football game. The coming week brings my PET-CT scan, I need to focus and train.

Saturday and I am awake with a hot coffee to hand. I reflect on the discovery of Vests, yes vests. Its been a bit of a revelation brought on by higher energy costs. In an effort to control energy bills I took heed of the “Layers” mantra that was being espoused by various sources, mostly cosy comfortable MPs and ministers along with well heeled media types, (over to our cost of living correspondent). Of course the media go tot me adn I rummaged through my cupboard of “clothes in waiting”. When I find things I like I tend to buy more than one pair and keep a pair “in waiting”. In amidst shirts, socks and pants I found a three pack of vests. I’ll give those I try I think to myself and what a good idea that turned out to be. It seems that a vest tucked in and fitting snuggly against the skin works like a wet suit trapping a layer of medium and allowing it to warm up from the bodies heat. It was a real find and I now have a solid stock of vests which I would not be without. I calculate that it has delayed the onset of heating switch on by at least a few hours a day, so the saving from a pack of cheapo Primark vests is significant. That was my wake up reflection and early morning coffee thoughts. I’m sure other people wake up to similar early morning reflections or perhaps the rest of the world is to busy with the Real World to have time for such cognitive fripperies. Perhaps its one of the jewels of retirement that I have the time adn inclination for such reflections. It was during one of these reflective moments after seeing Stuart Lee that I came across Daniel Kitson’s material on the wonder of pidgeons and Billy Connolly’s story of a dwarf on a Glasgow bus, both on YouTube if you fancy frittering some time away in comedy.

So eventually I get up to a peanut butter bagel and more coffee, feed the dishwasher, put my laundry in and settle down to start todays blog, having waved my partner off to the hairdresser. So I ease into todays blog with the sound of Linton Kwesi Johnson’s Victory album playing. I understand now why my friend who recommended it also said it was a “bit spikey.” All of this is the precursor to the real business of today and that is to watch the six nations rugby internationals that are on TV today. I have no doubt that other things like vegetable shopping and overseeing the garden guy who is supposed to be arriving today and a host of other “stuff” required for modern day living is going to arise but in essence today is a rugby day. This is closely followed by keeping my PAI score above 200, which means I will have to train at some point to gain the PAI points I need to do this. Apparently my fitness age score places me at 47! If only I had a portrait in the attic.

Well the garden guy arrived and sorted out another flower bed in the back garden and drove off happy at about twelve thirty. I wash the cutlery holder in the kitchen draw make lunch before my partner returns from her hair appointment. We dash off to the garden centre to shop for fruit and veg before returning to a giant sausage roll and the rugby on TV. What a game between the Irish and the French, a really good game of rugby. For once the Irish win and win in style. There is barely any time before the next match between Scotland and Wales. Another good game which surprisingly Scotland win. Well its been an exciting afternoon and early evening and neither I or my partner can be arsed to cook so we resort to a takeaway. An evening of Indian food, Midsomer Murders and football highlights ensues. I’ve not trained so will regret it at weigh in tomorrow but right now I’m full of good food and kindness to myself. I am also marginally excited at the prospect of receiving my new slippers and more tantalising, a new Neil Gaiman novel, Neverwhere, his first novel. I’m interested to see how he started out. For now its night meds and bed.

Friday and I am awake but late, the exertions of yesterday have caught up with me. I get a breakfast and then sort out my drugs wallets for the next two weeks. I run off the information from the clinic that is going to do my PET-CT scan. Apparently I’m going to be infused with a radioactive tagged glucose, which means that I will have to spend an hour letting it get into my system. So I am psychologically ready now all I need to now is get there and get on with it next week. I fill in more time by refilling the bird feeders and the squirrel feeder and then its time to go to the dentist.

My dentist is very good and we have a good chat about the x-ray outcomes. We come to the conclusion that I will have one filling repaired and that we will keep a watch on one of my crowns that might be developing something strange. I am relieved to get away without any work being done beyond setting a date for the filling in early March. I return home with eggs, grapes and a paper to read the final stories of Fragile Things. At last I get up the energy to go and train. I am becoming addicted to my Fitbit PAI score. A consistent score of a 100 is supposed to have been found to predict a longer life so I of curse have taken to setting my daily goal of getting above a PAI of 200. Its going well so far and my calculated fitness age is currently standing at 47. So maintaining my 200 PAI score act as an additional motivation. So at almost 5 o’clock I get into the garage and set myself up for an hours row. It goes well and I crack 13 kilometres and 800+ calories.

I record the session get into Friday night TV clothes and eat tea. Then its a night of TV wallpaper while I draft the blog. There is of course Death in Paradise to watch and then I shall get an early night.

Thursday and its going to be a busy day. I do not feel like I am ready for a busy day. I get up and make breakfast and take my meds before girding up my loins and start my first task of the day, namely to prune the front drive private hedge. I gather up my garden tools and head for the front drive and spend a couple of hours thinning out the hedge. It looks harsh but it will recover and it wont scratch the cars any more.

As I am finishing the hedge a friend of my partners arrives adn comes in for coffee. My partner and her friend chat while I finish the front trimming. I have a brief lunch and then get myself up for a brief training session. I get myself into my kit and head for the garage. Strapped into the rower I set off on a half hour row at my normal work level. The session go well enough, burning 400+ calories and going over 6000 metres.

Post row its all action. A shower and fresh clothes before I drive myself and my eldest daughter into town to see Stuart Lee. Before the performance we go for an Italian meal and have time to chat. The meal is excellent and sets me up for the performance. My eldest daughter and I indulge in a pre performance bag of Maltesers while we wait to go in.

Stuart Lee was just extremely funny, his humour is just very clever and layered. Both sessions of his show were excellent, punctuated by a tub of ice cream. After the show we met an old friend and her husband and briefly chatted as we headed for the car. Back home I draft the blog, take my night meds and go to bed knowing that tomorrow is another dentist day, and I know it won’t be the last.

Wednesday and I wake up groggy having slept deeply late in my nights sleep. Something my Fitbit confirms. I get up and dress and make myself coffee, but I am reticent to have breakfast as my mouth is sore from yesterdays steel invasion in the name of hygiene. I’ve just made my coffee and a friend rings. Its an age since we last talked so we catch up for an hour and check out how each other are. We both have issue with maintaining adequate spoons to get through the days so its good to talk to someone who understands how it is. After an hour is time to go so I move onto a late breakfast.

The post arrives and contains a letter from a friend who regularly writes. Its time for another coffee and the luxury of time to read a letter. It is no doubt one of the pleasures of my life. Having had my time of relaxation and pleasure I set about washing and waxing my car. Its so quick to type yet the effort required is immense. Not only do I wash an wax my vehicle I also T-Cut the minor scratches I find as I wash away the dirt. I am on a roll so I get to work hoovering the new rug and the rest of the downstairs. So it turns out to be a productive time but I still have not trained and it is this that nags at me. Once I start to change into my kit a sort of ritualistic process kicks in and I just end up kitted out and ready to go. In the garage I strap into the rower and set myself the goal of an hours row at my cruise level. Its a difficult start as I really do not feel that I want to, so I grind through the initial twenty minutes and then I begin to free up and find a rhythm. It turns out a reasonable session and I burn over 800 calories.

By the time I have recovered, logged the session in my journal its almost time for tea. As the evening starts and I begin to draft the blog I feel my energy drain away and know that I shall be going to bed early this night. Perhaps I shall read but in my head I am planning to do drastic things to the private hedge on the front garden. But for now it is time to vegetate for a bit and watch football and or Midsomer Murders before night meds and bed.

Tuesday and I wake up feeling crap. My partner brings me a coffee, which I drink before I get up. I have breakfast, take meds and pain killers and go to the Shed to write letters. I spend all morning writing letters. By lunchtime my injection site feels sore and I return to the house to have lunch. I pop across to the post box and buy stamps before I return.

I spend time reading Fragile Things and putting my washing in. It gets to time for the dentist so I wander down to the clinic and check in. I get called into the hygienists lair and she and her assistant get to work on me. The 20 minute session turns into a 40 minute one. I get a discount of course. It was forty minutes of medieval metal torture. I cannot believe that in this day and age dental hygiene consists of scraping a metal hook in between the teeth and jabbing a sharp point into the gums. What happened to modern technology and things like ultra sound. I come away feeling like I’ve just had an interview with the Spanish Inquisition. My teeth maybe clean but my mouth feels raw and painful.

Back home I hang my washing out and then read more Fragile Things until it is dark. The evening slides on, I read more, eat tea and watch Midsommer Murders until I draft the blog. I take my night meds and pain killers and go to bed to read. All this day has done is give me a sore mouth to match my sore gut injection sight. I’m finding it hard at the moment to stay chipper but I remain determined to recover my usual joyous self.

Monday and its 7:30, there is coffee, which I drink and then dress. I’m barley functioning as I organise my morning meds plus paracetamol. I put my injection pack in my pocket and walk to the GP surgery, sign in and wait. The nurse calls me in and we make conversation about the weather while she mixes the potion adn I take off the necessary layers for access. She tries to find a non lumpy area on the right side of my gut and then put in the needle and injects me. I buckle up and expose my left arm so that she can jab me with 3 months worth of B12. I go home to a peanut bagel and coffee and then do the life admin attached to the new furniture. Having created a file with all the info in I attend to my social media and messages. I clear the kitchen and then read for a bit, before doing some banking admin.

By lunchtime I am already feeling tired but go to the village shop with my partner to buy vegetables and a paper. On our return I eat soup and a roll while doing the crosswords in the paper. I prepare the nights meal and pop it into the crockpot to simmer away for a few hours. I clear the kitchen, empty the bins and then read for a while. I take more paracetamol as a pre-emptive pain control before seeing the dentist. My dentist is lovely but expensive and also not on strike, She talks to me, asks how I am and then prods me, pokes me and x-rays me. The upshot of all this is that I am seeing the hygienist tomorrow and her again on Friday. The cost is fearsome but where else can I be seen so quickly or effectively?

I return home acutely aware that my injection site is getting sore and I am running out of spoons. I read for a while, more Neil Gaiman’s Fragile Things but stop to write a to do list and begin to draft the blog. I know how the rest of the evening goes from here. My gut gets more sore and I feel less and less well until in desperation I go to bed dosed up with paracetamol. I am feeling rude and guilty that I have not written to those friends who have sent me letters recently and I am frustrated that I have not trained. This is the effect of having limited spoons. Its at times like these that I wish I could get out of it on drugs or booze, but in the scheme of things there are people who are a thousand times worse off than me. When I remember that, I remember that under no circumstances will I buckle. Whatever I do will be enough for today and tomorrow I go again like many of my friends and family are also doing.

Sunday and I wake up late and still sleepy. There is coffee for me, which I am very grateful for. I sit and chat to my partner before we get up for breakfast. There is an attempt to ring our youngest daughter but agree to ring her later. I take my morning meds. I am not feeling brilliant and I wonder if I am feeling the effects of being at the end of my monthly injection cycle.

The drive to the business park where the furniture shop is situated was better than expected. In the store we head straight to the sofa we are interested in, having measured up at home we are clear we have selected the right one. The swatches are there so we check the colour of the covering again. I am not sure what the hesitance is but eventually we hail one of the sales folk who slides effortlessly into his patter about leather care and long term insurance. We are kindly towards him but move him onto the the real business of bottom lines and repayment schedules. It inevitably comes to the reading of the agreement and the exchange of details. In these modern days it is apparently possible to sign on a i-pad, I apply my finger to the pad and with a flourish I give it my best signature. So with the deposit paid and the four years of 0% finance signed up to we leave looking forward to the beginning of May when it will be delivered. This is only the second sofa I have ever bought in my life and it feels an indulgence especially as it is a reclining contraption. Gone the whole hog this time and bought a matching single armchair recliner to go with it. So having done the business we leave and drive to the gym.

When I get to the gym I feel less than well and my nose is running. I decide not to train and nestle down with a large coffee and take an Actifed to dry the tubes. Time passes until my partner returns and we go home to watch the final international rugby match of the weekend. Tea follows as does a call to our youngest daughter. The evening moves onto the the final episode of His Dark Materials and Happy Valley. Emotionally drained I do the football highlights and go to bed knowing that tomorrow is a day of injections and dental intervention. Spoonless and apprehensive about the next day I retreat to bed.

r