Sunday and today is going to be different as my partner and I are determined to go to the gym today. Its a while since we went “in anger” and even longer since we swam. Its time to christen my new silver swim cap. Of course before we can do any of that there is breakfast to be had and the face time call to our youngest daughter to make. All of this goes to plan and by lunchtime there is time for some cleaning and tidying before we set off to the gym already in our training gear. So I stroll myself and my silver locks into the gym and get one of the good cross trainers. I go for an hour and I am mildly surprised at how it pushes my heart rate up, further than the rower, which is a big surprise, but I have reservations about the accuracy of all these machines. Any way I cross train for 65 minutes, burn 680 calories and cover 7200 metres. I am happy with this as a first proper session. I go to the changing rooms and promptly email myself the session figures so I do not to forget them having not taken my phone onto the gym floor, bad etiquette that. Then its in for a swim. My body was taken aback as I plunged into the pool and front crawled the first length as I turned to breast stroke back my body decided very clearly that it was not having that and made me lay on my back and drift for a minute while we had a chat about what was and was not possible. I had a while “mermaning” about until my body adapted and remembered a few basics like turning the head to breath on a regular basis. Once I had got acclimatised again I returned to the lanes and swam up and down a couple of times. My arms were confused as were my shoulders but they gradually got back together again. By the time my muscle memory had kicked in properly I was knackered and retreated to the steam room for ten minutes. Steamy and tired I went for a shower. On my way out I was miffed that there were no plastic bags to put my googles or my swim togs, including my new silver swim hat, in. I improvised, so for future reference plastic over shoes make great little bags for wet swim wear, so I solved my problem and now have a pair of over shoes. That’s what I call a genius.
I have a coffee and then drive us home and as we pass our local garage we spot that it has a tanker delivering PETROL! We get home and my partner starts the evening meal while I start the blog but once I’ve eaten I shall become petrol ninja man and go in hunt of petrol for my partners car.
Dinner comes and goes, One Man and His Dog is on TV but before it can come to a conclusion (England won if you were wondering) I set out into the night to hunt PETROL! I drive my partners car back to the garage where we saw a tanker earlier, hoping that I can get fuel. To my surprise I pull in behind a car at the pumps where the arsehole in front of me, having filled his car set about filing up a jerry can. I patiently wait and when free I roll forward and gleefully fill my partners car. Feeling a competent provider I drive home with my prize. I celebrate with a non alcohol beer and the Antiques Road show. So that is petrol and toilet rolls sorted all that remains to overcome is food shortages, but there is a solution.
Every so often I re calculate my cancer dates in order to try and keep track of my history and to keep reminding myself that I have won these days. I’m not sure why now but it feels that now is a good time to remind myself. It is perhaps a growing sense that my next set of blood tests and scans in December and the new year could herald in a new phase. So here are the dates and days that I keep an eye on to measure my survival.
- DAYS SINCE HOSPITALISED IN JAMAICA 930
- DAYS SINCE CANCER DIAGNOSIS 829
- DAYS SINCE FIRST ONCOLOGY APPOINTMENT 776
- DAYS SINCE FIRST CHEMOTHERAPY 754
- DAYS SINCE END OF CHEMOTHERAPY 628
- DAYS SINCE DVT DIAGNOSED 566
My oncologist told me that his chemotherapy would add 547 days to whatever life I had left. With a Gleeson score of 10 my expectancy according to the survival curves was 8 months or 243 days, so my total according to the science is 790 days from the end of Chemo. All I can say is so far so good, every day is the fight for the ordinary, that ordinary that has incredible generative power if you pay attention to it and at the moment I am giving my best shot. My dandelion clock is in good shape, the wind is not blowing. Tomorrow is another good day.
