Remission.

Hello world.

Sometimes when I'm low on inspiration I mash my hands against the keyboard in hope that something will pop out at me and I can then build on it from there. Unfortunately this has an approximate success rate of 0% because who can really draw inspiration from phrases such as 'vwiubvw kfj ;wj wk wjkw k'l' s jl qKPA lk'L LKKLKL'? Today's a bit different though because I can't seem to find the right flow for other reasons. In what can only described as a pathetically tragic cliche, I'm a bit lost for words. Here's why:

COMPLETE REMISSION. It's a term that every cancer patient wants to hear, and I got an ear full of it today. Big news, oh yes. So what does that mean? Well, alas, it does not necessarily mean that I am cured... yet. The word cured has a funny meaning in the wacky world of haematology, and generally most folk stay well clear of using it for years after their diagnosis. The reason for that being is that fundamentally it's difficult to cure you of cancer in just say, six months or perhaps even a year of asking. Relapses can be very common and the idea of routine chemotherapy is to keep the cancer at bay, not to continue eliminating it. It's all very well that the cancerous cells are taken down early, but think to yourself, how easy was it for those cells to develop in the first place? And what's to stop them from just coming back and doing more damage once you turn you back? That's why cancer treatment can be such an arduous process, taking years and years to be fully effective.

So here's the deal with me. I am in complete remission. There are no leukemia cells in my bone marrow and my body is producing normal blood cells at a satisfactory rate. Next month I will carry on as planned to the fourth cycle of chemotherapy treatment, delightfully named 'delayed intensive.' This will make me feel like absolute horse shit, and it's likely that I'll spend some time in hospital due to complications that come part and parcel with any intense cycle of chemotherapy. After that's over I'll be into maintenance, which I believe most of you know the jist of. For about three years I'll be receiving varying forms of treatment to ensure that my body continues doing what it's supposed to do. So I'm not out the woods yet. But the outlook is looking superb.

I'm in quite a reflective mood today. At no point have I punched the air in delight or broken into song or danced a merry jig or anything to similar effect. I've mostly thought of today as just another step of the way. It's been only four months or so since I was first diagnosed, but the distance I've come since then has been quite astonishing. Yet the journey continues, and it will for a long while yet.

And you know, so far it's not been such a bad ride.

High five to the normal life.

It's nice feeling like you're in good health. I actually ran up the stairs today and didn't feel like I needed an oxygen mask and a power nap straight afterwards. It's funny because lacking any stamina and having to contend with aches and pains does become the norm after a while, so realising that actually, I'm not made of glass and I can walk up the road without buckling at the knees is fantastic.

That's not to say I'm ready to go on ant expeditions up Kilimanjaro or anything. I'm horrendously out of shape, owing to the fact that I've hardly moved over the last few months. My weight's fluctuated between underweight to doughy, currently sitting somewhere on the high end of the spectrum. And nil would aptly describe the level of motivation I have to do anything about it. Why? Well, it'd all be a bit pointless. Y'see, being involved in a regimen that has more cycles than a game of Monopoly, any efforts to regain a respectable level of fitness would only be for nothing once I get pumped full of drugs again. I do like being on this interim maintenance (or whatever it's called) but the reality of chemo induced madness is only just around the corner. I can't wait for it to finish.

I'm not sure where this whole post is going. Don't take normality for granted, perhaps? Learn from me, for I am wise. Yeah, cool story bro.

Also I feel like getting drunk. It's been a while. It'd be cheap as chips as well, seeing as I'm now a total lightweight. The other day I had two pints and I'm sure the room starting spinning.

Big love,

Ryan.