Wednesday 6th July, my birthday! I wake sluggishly and wander down stairs to make a muesli breakfast and down my first coffee of the day. My partner is at work in the office and my eldest daughter is off gathering doctoral data so I settle down and prepare for a zoom meeting. I get myself in front of the laptop and dial in. As they wish me happy birthday I manage to spill my coffee over myself and have to frantically clean up whilst fielding banter about age related accidents, slips, trips an falls! Once I had recovered my equilibrium I engaged fully with the meeting. There is a possible opportunity to be involved with some form of support for the the Ukraine so the future could be interesting and challenging.

Meeting over, I make myself a fried egg roll and do a couple of crosswords before waving my partner off to see her mother. Alone I have some chores to do and am expecting the garden guy to turn up today. Before I can get going a friend rings to sing happy birthday to me and to wish me well. We chat for a while until she returns home. No sooner had I finished the call than my son rings me and I get happy birthday wishes from my grandchildren. As my grandchildren are Swedish I am technically a “Farfar. I chat with my son for a long while. Its been a time since we last had such a chat and before we end the call we agree to another call once return from next weeks holiday. Almost as soon as I finish the call another friend rings with birthday wishes. We talk about holidays and her up coming cruise to the fjords. I’m still waiting for the garden guy to arrive and decide to oil the chair that sits in our front garden. It goes well in the sunshine but just as I finish the sun goes in and it clouds over. On to the next job on my to do list. I feed the hedgehog and put out the ladder that the garden guy will need to do our hedges at the weekend. Finally I think I have things straight so I get the garden camera and identify and retrieve the photos with our hedgehog in them. The camera goes back into the garden as my partner returns. I’m craving something nice so I indulge in a Bettys fat rascal. Very tasty and just what I craved. I am keeping an eye on the Boris saga as his MPs leave his sinking ship like rats. With luck I might get his resignation as a birthday treat. My birthday treats are all to be in the evening. The garden guy did not show, but then I discover he is actually due tomorrow. I had delayed training in anticipation of his arrival but by the time I find he is not coming I am too tired to train. I decide to be kind to myself and give myself a days rest. Tomorrow I shall return to my rower.

The Evening arrives, my eldest daughter returns home and my birthday celebrations begin. I am fed my favourite pasta dish, followed by a Bettys chocolate birthday cake, delicious. I open my cards and then my presents. It is a profusion of goodies from writing paper, books, notebooks and Lush bath goodies. And to my surprise not one but two new ice hockey jerseys from my favourite ice hockey team the Arizona Coyotes. I am indeed blessed.

Its a real pleasure and makes my day. The debris of the celebrations signal it well.

Feasting over I settle in front of the TV and watch watch the England women’s football team beat Austria. This all happening against a background of Boris refusing to go and sacking ministers and Rapha Nadal wining a five set match to get to the semi finals of Wimbledon at the age of 36. Football over I draft the blog before sending messages of thanks to all those kind people who have been generous to me. I shall go to bed now looking forward to making it to 75, healthy as I can be, curious and actively being the poetry coyote.

Monday, start of a new week and it is going to be a mundane day, with little to do than feed, tidy and watch Wimbledon. as it turns out I end up in the Shed writing letters for the morning. My garden appears to be doing quite well without me at the moment. By lunchtime I am written out and nourish myself with soup and Wimbledon. So this is what retired people do. Post lunch I put a load of washing in and get ensnared by Wimbledon again. Every Wimbledon I think it would be nice to learn tennis at the local sports centre and then realise this is my usual summer fantasy and settle back down to a real world and more to the point a real Body. I maybe getting slowly fitter after COVID but it would knacker me walking from one side of a tennis court to the other let alone being able to chase a high speed bouncy sphere around the entire court. I still do have a persistent squash fantasy though, however you do not play squash to get fit, you get fit to play squash, ask Leonard Rossiter!

I have an interesting WhatsApp exchange with a friend before I train. I head for the rower in the garage and set myself up for the session. Half and hour at my usual resistance today, which will stretch my arms and back after yesterdays rest day. It goes okay, not brilliant but a good enough to get me going this week. I have resisted the temptation to go for a big session like an hour or a high resistance. Its the long game I need to play here, especially before going on a weeks break away.

Post session I check my messages and find that my friend has sent me the introductory booklet from her local fatigue clinic. I sit and read it through and it reinforces my take on my training efforts and spoon expenditure in general. It is very much rooted in the Hare and the Tortoise with the tortoise approach being the best in the long run as it avoids a “boom and crash” cycle, which detrimental. There is a model to understand the complexity of fatigue and model of recovery which adopts the tortoise approach.

The issue that jumps out at me is how unhelpful those around people who are suffering from chronic fatigue can be if they do not understand the nature and limitations of the condition. I wonder if I have been guilty of this myself, being a male I think I probably fall foul of thinking its just about pushing through and encouraging others to do the same, which I now vividly understand is really not helpful. The experience of my friend has been enlightening and helped me understand how to manage my own medication induced fatigue at times. It feels like I am fortunate enough to be in the “Building Tolerance” stage. I do note that the model allows for people to slide from one stage to another both upwards and backwards, so perhaps I should not get in front of myself.

I spend my evening watching the incomparable Nadal whoop a Dutchman and then I watch the series end episode of Stranger Things. There cannot be too many series of this left as the actors are getting a bit long in the tooth to be playing teenagers. I prepare fro bed and realise I have failed to perform my bi Monday task of filling my drugs wallets, so I spend a few minutes tiredly refilling one before going off to bed.

Tuesday and a quiet start. Its the usual breakfast followed by the checking of my email and messages. I find I am invited to a book launch by a an old colleague in the Therapeutic Community world. I am hoping to go but it falls on my eldest daughters birthday, life is never simple. Alongside his an email from a group of Therapeutic Community advocates, that I belong to, inviting me to be part of meeting reviewing provision of support to children in the Ukraine. It will be a major discussion of the groups meeting tomorrow to decide who attends and what our approach will be. I settle down to draft the blog to cover yesterday adn start today. Initially I start on the patio but the wi-fi signal fails so I am back to the sofa office. As the morning goes on varies deliveries arrive and I notice get smuggled away. It is my birthday tomorrow so I suspect the squirreling is connected to that, either that or I am sadly delusional. I finish the filling of my drugs wallets that I started

Lunch time arrives and my partner and I go for a walk round the village to stretch our legs and get a paper. Home and we lunch before putting tonight’s meal in the crockpot. Wimbledon beckons as does the rower. Ultimately the rower wins but not until I had watched some tennis and given myself a manicure ready for Fridays holiday. I get myself into the garage and set up for a hard half hour row, level 5, with the aim of getting over the 7000 metre mark. I set off and do well, very well in fact. I am getting to my goal when my buds ring, they have never done that before so I tentatively tap one of them and to my amazement I am talking to my friend. I Am able to hold the conversation and continue to row (sign of fitness) until I het the half hour mark. Goal achieved and good calorie burn as well. My friend and I chat about the Fatigue guide she had sent me and we talk about how difficult it is to maintain good sleep patterns especially with a young family. The call ends as she goes to collect her children from school. I return to the tennis, no upsets and the plucky Brit is of course struggling.

I set about my post training chores that include feeding the hedgehog, getting the washing in and putting out the bins. All completed I am knackered and settle down to watch tennis and draft the blog. My evening will consist of a meal and some random viewing or reading. The mundane nature of my day gives me hope that I might be returning to some sort of controlled routine and life style which I can label as “healthy” or as healthy as my cancer allows me to be. Its that sense of regaining some sort of psychological agency for the future and the ability to get on with projects, interests and relationships.

Sunday and I wake quite early so make drinks to take back to bed and read The Appeal for a while. Eventually I get up and have breakfast with my partner. There is the usual Sunday house tidy to do so I spend a while Hoovering through the house and clearing the kitchen. When it feels that things are straight my partner and I get out and about in the village Heritage Festival. It is fun, mostly. We walk a long way to see the American Army display and then back again to the village centre to see more of the festival. We have walked for a couple of hours and I am beginning to feel uneasy about what constitutes heritage. It is true there is a Tudor group, Morris dancers, Penny Farthings and trades folk . There is a pop up museum of the mining and the sock industries and costumed places to eat. However there is a big military element to this festival, first world war, second world war and Cromwell’s army marching around. There are lots of different zones given over to war and the military.

I watch as a young boy has it explained to him how a hand grenade works and how long the fuse lasts. He also has a go with a handgun and gets taught how to hold to so as to steady his aim. He then gets taught about how a rifle can be adapted to act as a grenade launcher. A small girl gets her photo taken with a tin helmet on and holding a a full size rifle. I’m not sure I am comfortable with this and wonder what unintended, or indeed intended, consequences of this might be.

Tucked away between the first world war camp and the village centre is a quiet display with a static display with no one around, no actors or promoters. People pass by as they go to the more “exciting” displays and events.

It occurs to me that this is a an interesting juxtaposition in terms of heritage and what is seen as positive and celebratory and what is ignored or valued less. Perhaps I am being over analytical or dogmatic but it seems to me that there is a lack of positive, adaptive and creative acknowledgement of the things that make our culture strong, inclusive and reflective of real achievement that is part of my heritage.

Having said that my partner and I go to a tea room and order drinks and a scone. As we sit and refresh ourselves some friends appear and we sit and chat for a while. We agree to contact each other when we return from our break. A pleasant surprise to meet friends socially and to be ale to catch up, almost like the old normal, expect the new normal always contains a COVID review. My partner and I walk home where we shed our footwear from our singing feet and have a drink. I feed the hedgehog and start my evening. I get to drafting the blog and watching Wimbledon while my partner prepares the evening meal. The rest of the evening will see me watching Stranger Things and reading. It is the run down to my birthday and then to going on holiday for a week away. This will entail a lot of life admin and organising. My biggest wish is that this is a holiday where both I and my partner can stay healthy and have a relaxing week. I’m hoping to train well all week till we go.

Saturday the second, my sisters birthday and the Desford Heritage Festival. I wake to a message from my youngest daughter to tell me that her partner has COVID so they won’t be coming to day. Its a real disappointment. She WhatsApp phones and we do some face time. We chat for a while and think about when the next opportunity for a visit will come round. I get a bacon sandwich for breakfast and Amazon delivers a couple of things. One is a cash book that I intend to keep just to se how the cash flow goes during my transition from worker to retiree. The other package is part of our preparation for the coming holiday, its a pair of portable chairs that we intend to take to the beech. Later I do a time trail to put them together, it takes me 30 seconds! I am pleasantly surprised.

My partner and I go to the garden centre and stock up at the butchers and the veg guy. Its very much a get in get on and get out mission. Once home we stow the vittles and prepare to go out to the festival. The post has arrived and there is a letter from a friend north of the border. I settle down to read it with a coffee. I always enjoy her letters as they make me think. This one is no different. It is of course raining as we venture out to the Heritage Festival. The village has been divided in to historical areas so step out of our house into the Walk of Fame, consisting of well known Desfordians. An example is below;

We walk down into the village to see the Spitfire flyover but it gets cancelled due to the weather. Perhaps tomorrow. So we then wander around the various areas taking in the sights and the events. It is strange to wander from one era to another, for example from world war 2 to the Elizabethan era. Anderson shelter to Gloriana!

The whole village is full of characters from all sorts of eras. It is a fabulous display of peoples efforts and interests. The pictures say it all so well.

After a sandwich and look round the pop up museum we make our way back home. I’m tired but know I need to train. My partner and my eldest daughter go back out to the festival and I prepare to go to the garage to train. I deicide that I am going to go beyond the 30 minute mark and set myself for 45 minutes at the lower resistance. I start tentatively but get in to a rhythm after a while. It turns into a reasonable session and has extended me, which is what I need over the coming weeks.

I get to the sofa to record the session and then change into my lazy evening kit, always an ice hockey shirt. From there is dinner, drafting the blog and keeping an eye on a really bad tempered match between Kygios and Tsitsipas. These two really do not like each other. The evening might be new Stranger Things however tomorrows weather forecast is for a dry sunny day so getting out and about in the festival will be the priority. I try to ring my sister to wish her happy birthday but there is no reply, my guess is she is watching Wimbledon.

Friday the 1st of July. Where did June go, all that being ill seems to have gobbled up the month of June. I wake very sluggish and my body is letting me know what it thinks about my resumption of training, I ache, that good kind of “I’m training well ” ache. So I get up tentatively and make myself a muesli breakfast and coffee. My partner and I talk about my birthday present but she is unable to get one delivered from her source so I get into my source and order one for myself. There will be money changing hands at some point when it eventually arrives. A friend calls on her way to Reiki. We chat about family, activities, holidays and the nature of friendship and how that can manifest itself in both good and not so good ways. I say farewell as she arrives at her session. I also get a voice message from another friend who is slightly under the weather. So having had an unexpected lovely time chatting a set about my chores, clearing the kitchen, sorting out the laundry and preparing for the arrival of my youngest daughter and partner tomorrow. Coffee and a first draft of todays blog comes next.

I feed the hedgehog and stow the newly delivered hedgehog food, before my partner and I dash to the village library before it closes at noon to buy programmes for the village heritage weekend. Apparently one programme gets two people admission to the venues. There is an exciting timetable of shows, including the Tiger Moth display the librarian alerted us to.

My partner returns to work in the office and I head to the village shop to get milk and a paper. My friend calls again post Reiki session sounding relaxed and more invigorated. We chat for a while before she returns home to prepare and sip a lemon/honey brew. I get the shopping and then return home to have a lunch of tomato soup whilst watching Wimbledon. I wait for my partner to return from her massage session and then I get myself organised to go out. I load up the old printer and a bag of unrequired tins and drive off to the recycling centre. I dump the printer at the centre and move on to the jewellers, who had rung me earlier, and pick up my repaired gold ring. Its good to get it back despite the repair necessitating the removal of the internal marking. It is now whole and re-polished so I shall remember to take it off every time before I train in future as I am pretty sure that is what caused the damage.

I move on to Sainsburys and leave my bag of unneeded food cans. I never did like Spam and prunes. I look for a cash book as I’ve decided to keep a cash book for a while as I transition from independent practitioner to properly retired person. Sainsburys do not have one so I am forced to order one from Amazon. I get enough cash out of the machine to see me through and drive home intending to train. When I do I find it is later than I thought. My intention to train is over ridden by my fatigue. I become over come with tiredness, I guess am still recovering from the after effects of COVID. I resort to the sofa, drafting the blog, Wimbledon, NCIS and then after tea a bath. My evening is going to be quiet and contain zero cognitive effort.

Thursday and after a disturbed night I get up and revive myself with coffee. I set about the cooking bacon and egg breakfast I promised myself last night. I decided that I was not getting enough protein so decided that I would have a solid protein breakfast for a change from my usual muesli. I really enjoyed the change. Having done that I clear the kitchen, clean the microwave and sort out a present for my sister whose birthday is on Saturday. I read a message from the family that we are in contact with in Shri Lanka. Times are really difficult at the moment. COVID is rife, the economy has crashed and there are still stringent restrictions in place. Prices of everything have rocketed and tourism has just dropped away. The family are struggling to survive and the father is now ill with COVID. Normally he is a fisherman but when he can he takes jobs in construction or anything he can get. Work has run out and things sound as if the family are having a hard time. I send a small amount to them hoping it helps a bit.

I take a few minutes to draft the blog and the retreat to the Shed. Its time to start to prepare the Hotel and Restaurant poem collection. Rather than editing poetry I find myself writing more letters and then feeding the hedgehog. My partner goes off to see her mother telling me as she goes that we have yet another pile of cat vomit on the garden path. Another of those unwanted interruptions in the sooth passage of life. I dutiful clear it away and continue with my day. I take in my washing and discover my new book has arrived. A friend recommended The Appeal by Janice Hallett so I bought it. I spend a few minutes starting to read it and find the format really interesting, in fact I think I am pretty hooked.

I close up the Shed and take a walk over to the post box to send my letters on their way and return to a combination of The Appeal and Wimbledon. Its an addictive combination and I am unable to drag myself away till almost quarter past four when I talk myself into going to the garage to train. I have ideas about doing an hour and upping the resistance level but I listen to my body and dial in 30 minutes at the lower resistance level. However I increase my effort and stroke rate with the result that the half hour is a well spent one. Being able to maintain a faster stroke rate for the whole time is a sign of progress. It means I manage over a 1000 stokes and burn almost 500 calories, that’s more like it.

I return to the sofa to check Wimbledon and record my session. I change into evening relaxation clothes and draft more of the blog before settling into an evening of reading, the Lincoln Lawyer and Lucifer.

Wednesday, bin day and the day I do not have to go to the hospital for an assessment. I slept well last night and wake up with a sense of relief. I can get on with losing weight and getting fit again. I spend time idling and then do some clean up chores, By lunchtime I am ready for a walk down to the village to get a paper. My partner and I walk to the village shop the long way round and pick up fruit and a paper on the way. On our return we sit and eat lunch on the patio. So a slow and gentle morning with the only thing of note being a tax bill. This reminds me that I must do my last tax year return and make sure they know I’ve stopped working in this tax year.

So its time to get myself “world ready”, which means some grooming and then some exercise before the garden guy arrives. All this against the background of avoiding the magnet that is Wimbledon and the craving for sweets.

As am preparing to set about some grooming a friend calls. We chat and compare notes for about 35 minutes. My friend has long COVID and has to manage her energy reserves all the time, so I really appreciate the fact that we spend that time talking. Keeping friendships alive and vibrant is difficult when there is limited energy to put into the effort necessary, so I really do appreciate my friends call. After the call I spend some time readjusting my beard before getting ready to train.

I admit that I get side tracked by Wimbledon for a few minutes as plucky Brits fall short or scrape through. I finally get myself into the garage and set up the rower. emboldened by my performance yesterday I set the resistance level to 5, my normal lowest level. The time is set for 30 minutes and I get under way. The moment I make the first pull I know the difference and know I am in for a demanding half hour. Finishing becomes the task as the muscles feel the strain and begin to burn. I get there, no where near what I would a month ago considered an acceptable session, but I get there.

Pleased that I have completed the session on my usual level I change clothes and record my session while downing a pint of squash. I am realising just how long its going to take me to regain my basic fitness. I need to mix up my exercise so I need to think about difference home gym options and the possibility of going to the gym to swim. The down side of the gym is other people and their COVID carrying potential. I do not want to get ill again before we I go on holiday next week. So I guess I will have to think about a weights and stretching routine to alternate with rowing for the next ten days. I settle down with Wimbledon and know that I have the excitement of the final of the Great Sewing Bee ahead of me tonight. The garden guy is buzzing around and tidying up the front lawn as I draft the blog. I realise I have run out of spoons and have slipped into neutral, I’m already thinking about how I will spend my day tomorrow. In thinking about it I realise that I have not fed the hedgehog, which is something I must do before I fully sink into my evening.

Tuesday and it is oncologist day. I get up and have breakfast and then get the paper work out and wait for his call. Just after 9 o’clock “he who made a pact with the devil” rings and asks how I am. So I give him the list of ailments that I have had since we last spoke, its a long list. I tell him about my GP referral to urology due to my exercise induce blood in the urine. He suggests that I will not find them useful and we talk about options. From his point of view I am still in a “good as it gets” state. He suggests that he gets the specialist nurse to ring me later to talk about options. We say our farewells and I stare into space for a while.

Rousing myself from my reflections I get myself sorted to completer the grouting on the bathroom floor. I spend the next couple of hours on my hands and knees grouting. Not something you get to say often. By lunchtime the job is finished and I sit down to a dish of chicken soup and wonder when the nurse is going to ring me. I am very apprehensive about tomorrows urology assessment and feel unsure about the wisdom of it. I retreat to the Shed and sort out the feeding of the hedgehog before settling done to write a letter. It is my last stamp, which I must put right. I close up the Shed and walk over to the post office dropping my letter in the box on the way and then buy a couple of books of stamps. They now come in books of 8! The stamp now has a barcode attached. Another techno change in this changing world. I return home and contemplate a training session.

My phone rings. It is the cancer nurse. She is cheery and tells me she has talked to “he who made a pact with the devil” and is aware of my situation. I explain how I am and she is clear that I do not need the urology assessment. She and the oncologist both agree that the blood is a result of the apixaban I am taking. We talk about exercise options and management of any blood loss. At the end of the discussion we agree that I will not attend tomorrows assessment and that the nurse will cancel it with the department. She says that she will go and see them to do that after our call. I thank her. I am so relieved that I am not going to the hospital tomorrow. For the first time for what seems weeks I feel I can get on with life and take control of my regime and my life balance. It feels like I can get on with life the way I want to now.

I go to the garage and train. I do another rower session for half an hour. Surprise, I set a personal best for this level. I get myself out of the garage and retreat to the sofa where I record my session and start to watch Wimbledon.

Our dinner guest arrives and the evening begins with a meal. I leave my partner and friend to chat post dinner and I start to draft the blog. Serena Williams is finding out that 40 really is too old to come back after not playing for a year. My evening feels good for the first time in a long time and I have the sense that I can look forward to tomorrow without anything other than my cancer to fight. And I know how to do that!

Monday and I wake up knowing my blood results are in so I’m immediately up and firing up the family PC so I can print out the results. Once printed I get a coffee and start to process them. I do my usual recording and coding and then read the relevant information and reflect upon what they mean for me and what I might need to do. These results are in essence a good set. Crucially the PSA has dropped again and is now lower than it has been for a year. Go me! My eGFR (kidney function) is the best its been since November 2019, once again Go me! The Urea is up but according to the information this maybe due to dehydration at the time of testing. Given that I have had COVID and been infused with an antiviral protein plus the antibiotics, coupled with my not training it not surprising that I’m dehydrated. I had actually trained for the first time in 36 days the day before my blood tests, neither had I done my usual pre bloods water loading. This affects both Urea and Platelet levels. The overall conclusion is that I need to get back to a regular exercise routine and to maintain my hydration regime. As a result I’m back to drinking water as a regular habit.

So today my agenda is set by my results. I shall train, drink water and spend time in the Shed and set about re grouting the bathroom floor. So much fun. I change into me training clothes in anticipation of training at some point. I get to the shed and settle in just in time as it throws it down with rain. I write a letter and then stop for lunch. Healthy tomato soup on the patio. The delivery from Amazon has arrived containing another tube of grout reviver so I decide t make a start on the bathroom floor.

I hate crawling around on the floor, it makes my back ache so I am quite relieved when Tesco deliver around 4 o’clock. We get the food stowed and I pack up my work stuff, the rest of the floor is a tomorrow job. I finally head for the garage and the rower. I get on board and set off. Its a terrible session, I feel knackered and under par but get through the session.

The session gets recorded and I up load the images to the laptop and update the draft blog. I slide into the evening with no plan. The plan runs to some NCIS and the Lincoln Lawyer. After two sessions of the Lincoln Lawyer I am out of spoons and retreat to bed and think about what I want to ask the oncologist at tomorrows session. A say session, in reality it will be a phone call where “he who made a pact with the devil” will be trying to end it as soon as possible and I will be trying to have a conversation about my cancer.

Sunday and I wake up with blood results my first thought. I go downstairs make drinks and return to bed with my phone. Still no blood results, so it will be after midnight if at all now. I weigh myself more in hope than any sense of earnt reduction. I weigh in at 96.3 kilos. That’s a decrease of 1.5 kilos. I have no idea how that has happened, I cannot believe that two sessions on the rower have made this difference. So starts the Sunday clear up, kitchen followed by some hoovering, I wonder if Tolstoy or Alan Ginsberg or even Tempest do or did their own hoovering. Any way its probably a comment on my lack of creative urge at the moment. So my partner and have a late breakfast bacon sandwich and then crack on with house organisation. I undertake a complete stock take of my quartermasters stores complete with clip board. I discover that there are some very out of date cans which I pop into a bag There will be a sort out and those still in date can go to the Sainsburys food donations. I am eerily fascinated what someone would do with a can of five bean salad and a tin of prunes. I suspect these are hangovers from the COVID Boris boxes we received. Anyway by the time I’m finished there is a list and I am clear about what we have a surfeit of (tinned tomatoes) and what we require (baked beans). I was gratified to find a Christmas pudding, which means I’m ahead of the game for the coming one. I might now hunt around for bargain crackers and other Xmas goodies, if I play my cards right I could have the festive season sorted by the end of July.

I’m knackered by the mornings efforts, I suddenly run out of spoons so I retreat to the sofa and Glastonbury on BBC i-player. First up is Haim, who are cracking and a band I a would go and see live. George Erza follows in a surprise appearance, average and then Celeste, not my cup of tea and finally Wet Leg do a short gig, energetic but middle range. Declan Mc Kenna follows in what looks like a scout uniform and strange shades, with a drummer that looks like an old colleague who is actually at Glastonbury selling fish finger sandwiches. Life can be strange but true. Diana Ross bless her, such a strong back catalogue but unfortunately she now sings flat but hey at 78 who gives a toss, certainly no one in the mainly pissed, stoned and tuned in crowd. Truly more karaoke than smooth superstar. Whilst watching my eldest daughter plaits my hair for me.

So I continue to watch through Elbow and drift into the evening. My sister calls and lets me know she is going in to hospital tomorrow for a minor routine procedure but might be in over night. She is letting me know what is going on and to tell me that on the paper work I am named as her next of kin. I guess this is a necessary piece of medical bureaucracy. She also tells me that she will not be signing a DNR as she wants them to do everything to save her if anything goes wrong. Noted. I wish her luck and promises to ring me when she gets home . I head into the evening unclear about what I will be doing except intermittently checking to see if my bloods are in. My evening passes with light drama followed by Kelly Holmes documentary about being gay in an army that viewed it as illegal. I like to think things have changed. I make one final check to see if my blood results are in. They are! I’ve not got the time to check things in detail but my eGFR is 61 the highest its been since November 2019, that’s unexpected. Crucially my PSA has dropped again for the third time in a row. It’s down 0.2 to 0.8, the lowest its been for a year, another surprise but very welcome. The rest of the results seem to be there or there about. I am surprised these are better than I had hoped for given my recent COVID and infections. I go to bed to hopefully sleep more easy.