Level 2.

I wonder what the boss will be like.

Back in Sheffield then, chemo cycle two now into its second day. And as I ponder quite ridiculously which figurative Bowser awaits me at the end of this phase (the boss is more likely to come in the middle really seeing as that's when you feel like the crap's been kicked out of you the most) I must say the nerves are a tingling. Looking after yourself whilst on chemo is quite a challenge, say the doctors and patients I've spoken to anyway. Infections can be common, tiredness prevails on most days and going about your daily routine can be stressful when having to deal with hospital visits on a daily basis. Oh it might seem all doom and gloom but whilst I am nervous I'm not scared. I'm just happy to be out the hospital on a full time basis so if it's just a case of keeping an eye on my health then it can't be too difficult can it?

Plus I have Ellise to basically look after me so I'm sorted.

Day clinic is weird. You arrive and well, nothing really happens for a while. Like yesterday. Turned up at 10 o'clock sharp (it was stressed that it was absolutely imperative I arrive at 10 o'clock sharp) and... nothing. For like, two hours. Then a nurse pops up and goes 'well, your medication hasn't actually been authorised yet so you might as well disappear until the afternoon.' I can see this kind of pattern developing annoyingly. In any case, I returned and got my chemo. Bucket loads of Cyclophosphamide and a tiny bag of Cytarabine. Look at those pretty new names. The first stuff looked evil as sin. Presented in three big black bags not too dissimilar in liking to biohazard warnings, I'd by lying if I say they didn't make me feel a wee bit of apprehension. But so far I don't feel to bad, so bring the rest of it on! Obviously.

Other than that there's not much else new to report. My legs are complete waste at the moment. Having been in hospital for a month and not had to take on gravity during that time my muscles have weaned away to a state of liability that makes the Ethiopian weight lifting team look like world beaters. So the problems that this has caused have been plentiful. But I get by, mostly by having to rely on public transport and running the risk of brain aneurysms because of the sheer stress that this creates. WHEN I PRESS THE BUTTON THAT MEANS STOP YEAH, NOW I HAVE TO WALK FURTHER.

Officially a bus wanker.

I'll try and get a few photos involved with the blog over the next few entries, including maybe a picture of myself with what's gonna be the closest you'll see to me having a bald head I HOPE. The hairline is still visible which is all that matters really.

Big love,

Ryan.