“Change, move, dead clock,”

And so we reach cycle 8.

I start to write as I sit in a chair in the Royal Marsden waiting for the ritual to begin again.

And now it is three days later. I left the kind and friendly staff of the Royal Marsden on Friday and now this Monday I reflect again.

8 months since I first boarded the train. After the operation and the side effects from the chemotherapy.

The two weeks as an inpatient in that time, the first meant I missed my own mother’s funeral. For the eldest child in an Irish family that hits hard. The second in cycle 6 meant I was reminded that getting better and getting well are two very different things.

One a journey, the other a destination.

And the train is still running for now.

So instead of the destination, let’s return to the journey.

Chemotherapy is a destructive process. It aims to kill any remaining cancerous cells and it is powerful but that power leaves a legacy of gunk, of side effects which build up over the time. So the active bear of cycle one had become a very tired ursine by cycle eight.

So how do I manage the journey?

By listening to my body. That thing which men in particular ignore too often. I have learnt the rhythm of the cycles.

When the brain fog will strike, when the need for sleep will obliterate everything else.

Oh and now I have clumsiness too. So which weeks I need to avoid cooking least I burn the world to the ground.

I also recognise when I am unable to do things. Today I have ordered groceries for delivery tomorrow and replaced failed smart bulb. And I am writing this. And that’s it.

I shall sleep and drink tepid water and read soft books and listen to quiet music.

I cannot recommend the WiiM Mini highly enough for the bedroom. It has a simple app and a simpler remote control. It streams Spotify, BBC Radio, SoundCloud, Apple AirPlay and local storage. They connect to WiFi and play through some simple bookcase powered speakers over an optical connected. At CD quality of course.

I am finding the balance between the quiet and the loud in life.

I am riding the train.