LFG BQ

Sooo this week it’s 4:33am on Saturday morning and guess what? I’m awake!   After five or six days of sweet, normal sleep I appear to be back on the ‘on steroids? Well you can absolutely RELY on waking up between 3 and 4am’ train. Honestly, I could put the mortgage on it.   Joy.   Mind you, it turns out it is a semi-decent time to write my blog. Though I don’t plan to post this until Sunday evening. For why I hear you ask? Well, Monday is the next big milestone in this journey - my post-round four PET scan.   D-Day v2, part one if you will.   D-Day v1 was diagnosis day. Which was a ball, as I’m sure you can imagine. But on that day nearly two months ago, the first real stage gate was put in the calendar - the PET scan. You’ll remember the photo of my first PET scan. The oh shit, have you seen what’s going on in my chest and neck PET scan. That was the moment the penny dropped when this became something serious, something to worry about.   Well on that day, ...

It is 4:08am on Thursday 18th November. It’s early, sure, but we’ve got a 9:50am flight to New York to catch from Heathrow and an early start doesn’t really count when you’re flying off on holiday, right? Oh, and there is the obligatory, yet insanely overpriced full English and a beer waiting with my name on it!    It is 4:08am on Thursday 18th November. I’m not on my way to Heathrow like I should be, and I’m not asleep. My hair is falling out though, so later this evening I’m getting it shaved.  Life is cruel sometimes.    We’re a week and a day on from Round Three of the treatment and it is lingering. My stomach feels hungover, a constant uncomfortableness. My sleep resembles that of a newborn, incapable of completing more than a few hours in any one stretch. But it is the sight of my hair falling out in my hands that is the most sobering aspect of this round. We always knew it was likely at some point, it would be remarkable had my hair stayed for the durati...

I quite like the boxing. Like, I enjoy seeing Anthony Joshua getting flattened by a fat Mexican, and I enjoy the Fury redemption story. I keep a casual eye on it but nothing too committed. One thing I do know is that rounds are scored 10-9 unless someone hits the deck a time or two when it might be 10-8, or even 10-7. I lost round one of my treatment 10-8. I hit the deck early and hard, before staggering to my feet again and getting to the bell. As you can imagine, this meant I was full of anxiety ahead of the second round. When a boxer hits the deck twice in the first round, he isn't usually seeing the third or fourth. His corner will pull him out if the referee doesn't; the fighters health and wellbeing completely paramount.  So a couple of Wednesday's ago, I tied up my boots (Gazelle's), put some vaseline on my cheekbones (took my anti-sickness pill) and strode through the doors at the hospital. Round two. Ding, ding, ding. This time, to add even more anxiety to the ...

This week has been really hard. So much so that I don't really know where I'm going with the blog this week. Normally, I have at least a few wise cracks to lean on or a funny photo or two, but today I'm falling a bit short of what to say. Evie asked me yesterday whether I was going to do a blog this week, probably not I said... it would be too miserable. She reminded me that the whole point of writing about this journey was to chart the ups and the downs, and that I was doing it first and foremost to help me through it.  In my brief flirtations with wanting to become a writer (I have 3000 words written in a Word doc somewhere), I remember one of the vaunted top tips for writers is to just keep writing and eventually you'll dig yourself out of the hole you find yourself in. So maybe that is what I need to do now, utilise this as a funnel to empty my head and it'll help process what has got to have been one of the hardest weeks of my life. I've had hard weeks befo...

The phoney war is over, the real thing has begun.  Before each round of treatment I need to have a blood test to make sure I am ready and able to take on the barrage of chemicals. So on Monday morning I drove across to the hospital before 8am as instructed, easily parked(!) and tracked down the blood room. I had been told beforehand that I wouldn't need an appointment, so was a little shocked to see a line of about ten people and massive signs saying 'NO WALK INS - APPOINTMENT ONLY'. Ah.  Well, there are a few positives to take from this situation and despite feeling like one of those terrible people with the queue jumper tickets at Alton Towers, I strode in through the door and told the blood man that I was so sorry, but I have chemo starting on Wednesday but no appointme... don't worry sir, sit down we'll see you next.  Jackpot! So I was in and out within 30 mins, avoiding even having to pay parking.  Suckers.  (The other positives we have discovered is free p...

Pre-Tuesday 5th October Meeting So, it's been a weird old couple of weeks since we last spoke.  After the biopsy, I had a few sore days but nothing too bad. I've also got a really cool scar and I'm even more certain that scars are cool. In the days following, we made sure we got out and walked round the block a few times a day and avoided any lifting (or mowing the lawn - thanks Dad!), whilst keeping on top of my cocktail of painkillers. In fact, not having a shower for FIVE days was the trickiest aspect of the whole thing. Every day felt like I was on a long distant flight somewhere with no sleep and a five minute window to 'freshen up' in the toilets with a flannel before the next leg started. I appreciate they have a purpose in life for removing make-up, skincare, etc., but flannels are crap.  The one thing that showed no signs of improvement was my sleeping. Every night I would fall asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, only to wake up wide awake...

First things first - I have been utterly blown away by the support and love people have sent my way over the last week or so. My Instagram blew up on Wednesday when I posted my first blog and sort of announced where I'm at with everything. I've ran *actual* marathons and not got even half the likes that I did the other day, which throws something of a spanner in to my BQ Runs content plan. But on a more serious note, I've probably never been so humbled as I have this week, so thank you. With that said though, it still feels like we're talking about someone else! It is a truly surreal experience at the moment. I've been thinking about the topic of this instalment of the blog, but fortunately (if any of this can be fortunate), this week has thrown a lot my way. So why not treat it like a diary? Wednesday So this morning I jumped in the car and drove to Nottingham - my city, of sorts. I went to University in Nottingham, I then got a job at Boots, I ran my first half m...