It was at 5:30am on Wednesday August 12th, that Lisette and I found ourselves Ubering from our home in Twickenham, to the Royal Brompton Hospital in Chelsea. I'd had good news on my recent scans. The tumour in my colon had shrunk, and the one in my lung wasn't showing up. This made the doctors feel it was safe to "finish the job".

Let me preempt what I'm going to write by saying this: it's good news my friends, it's good news. Much that I've written recently hasn't been. This is. I may yet experience bad news again. Or not. Either way, right now I want to tell you about some good news.

The last time I wrote, treatment was beginning. It's been going for a couple of months now.

I've done 5 rounds of chemotherapy, and 2 of targeted therapy. I know roughly what to expect, and my life is quite different. At least for now. So that's what I want to tell you about this time. My life now.

The first thing you should know about me is I'm a physical coward. The second is I'm quite squeamish. The third is I don't like needles.

Needless (little pun there) to say, cancer treatment really doesn't want to meet me halfway. Pills? No. Needles? Yes! And more besides!

If you're anything like me, you may want to cut your losses and stop reading now. Please feel free, if I was you I think I would too.

If you read my last post, you'll know that 2025 was a hard year for me. I had back issues which made the year a challenge. At the start of the 2026, my feeling was that whilst 2025 had been hard, 2026 should be easier. Somewhere in the universe, 2026 said to 2025 "Hold my beer".

I'll cut to the chase; I've had a cancer diagnosis. Which is pretty tough. I'm writing this to share the story of where I am, where I'm going, and maybe to encourage others. Not that I think I'm a poster boy for encouragement right now. But perhaps I'll get people thinking about doing medical tests sooner rather than later. That alone would be worthwhile.