WHOOOOOOOOOOOAH we’re halfway there!

Without looking, I imagine I’ve evoked the words of ol’ JBJ more than most other artists across all of my “works”. It’s just a great phrase to shout out loud or add superfluous vowels.

Last Thursday marked the start of chemotherapy cycle five, and for those that are paying attention (and fans of 1997 movie soundtracks), the beginning is the end is the beginning.

Three more cycles and hopefully I will be out of this for at least a while. That’s a pretty nice thought.

Plus so far this cycle hasn’t been too bad. The weather feels warmer and means less neuropathy. The change in dosage has minimised the side effects on my body and I’ve tried to be more active and present during the days.

There are still wild swings of fatigue and an underlying nausea. There were even a couple of worrying signs of continuing neuropathy during the recovery week but let’s hope that was a one off.

For now, I’m looking forward, not back.

It’s been five months or so since diagnosis which means a pretty non-stop succession of new treatments to endure or news to uncover. Of admin to find, understand, submit, resubmit and then pray to the gods that the dates were correct.

So now we’re in countdown mode. Ticking off the cycles, like miles to the finish line.

Which made today an even more unusual day – I had a consultation with a Doctor which actually made me happy.

When they took out a chunk of my colon, they sent it for genetic testing in the UK (pretty gross and also glad they didn’t send via Hermes…).

Essentially they were looking for a reason that a young (ish), healthy (ish) and super cool (OK made that one up) guy would get something which tends to affect those in their 60s and 70s.

One of the potential options was Lynch Syndrome – a genetic condition which increases the risk of certain cancers.

If the results came back positive, it would suggest that the rest of my family were also affected.

So I was a bit surprised when the result were negative. Which was positive.

Even the doctor was at pains to point out that it was a good thing.

It means that although I don’t have a reason for the early onset, it was most likely a bit of a freak occurrence (pending jinxing the situation in the future).

I don’t know why it made me so happy. Maybe because it was the first time since this started that I’ve had a call which wasn’t followed by more treatments.

Maybe it was because it was a Monday. Maybe it was because I’d had three coffees in one day and no ill effects.

Who cares.

In life, as in running, you take the victories. This definitely felt like a win.

Once, about 76 miles into a 100 mile race, I felt terrible as I rocked up to the aid station. I’d already decided to drop out and go home.

The team at the aid station tried to get me going again by asking what was wrong.

“I feel sick”

“Well what’s the worst that happens, just be sick and then keep going”

I quit then and there, walking to a nearby road to be picked up and driven home at 3am but the words stayed with me.

“Keep going”

Keep Staggering On.