Post 113: Mr U is a Macmillan guest blogger.

Whether or not anyone reads my blog is not important—writing it helps me get through some of the ups and downs of my personal cancer travels.

———

Nurse Darling has been put to the sword lately while I am disabled by back pain. She has risen to the challenge marvellously and made my life easier and less stressful.

What I’d hoped was acute pain seems to be chronic—but at last I’m getting some relief with the morphine fluid.

Before I’d even finished my tough sudoku, I’d rung the dentist to postpone my appointment for a filling for three weeks - I hope that I’ll be better by then. That done, I also had to text and cancel a meet-up I’d arranged for tomorrow evening with the head of finance of the company I work for. It was only a catch up so it can be delayed without any problems.

Given my current condition and inability to sit still, it just wasn’t going to work.

We’ll call or meet another time, when he’s over from America again.

With those two things ticked off, I felt happy that I’d done what I could to make life as painless as possible.

But the constant meowing from our “starving” cat reminded me I’m not the only one who needs attention in this house.

Mr Vicious chomped through his breakfast and loved me again. While he did that, I topped up his water and sloshed some fortified water onto the roots of the sunflowers. They’re bursting with colour and look great even though they’re not the tallest I’ve seen reaching about five feet. But they are a pretty addition to the garden.

And that was the sum total of my work for the day.

The rest of the morning was taken up by micromanaging my cancer team—and worrying about my back.

In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to think for someone else, because everyone would have the time and energy to handle all their tasks.

But my cancer team has had a lot to deal with lately. The clots stole time that chemo should’ve been doing its job, and I feel the cancer has benefited. That’s my belief—and I’ll stick with that scenario unless or until I’m proven wrong.

I will be proven right or wrong by the scan report, which should be compiled very soon and discussed during Tuesday’s phone appointment with Dr S, my oncologist.

But then, mid-morning, I received a “Patient Knows Best” notification—and my brain switched into high-alert mode.

It was the scan report. I wasn’t allowed access to it until 27/09/25, but I could see that it existed.

Cue the spiral.

Instead of seeing that as a positive—that new data was progressing and being analysed—I panicked.

I worried that this was just a standalone report of my current condition and not what I’d hoped for: a comparison to the baseline scan done two months ago.

In my world, this meant needing to ask a few questions.

The far away teaching hospital where the earlier scan was done doesn’t automatically share images or reports with the current Trust nor visa-versa. I know they should—but they don’t.

And if neither team can access both scans, how will comparisons be made?

Now you see why I’m “a special patient.” I’m a total nightmare. A bag of nerves.

Scared that the same problems I had before—two departments failing to join up—might now appear again in two different NHS Trusts.

So I sent an email. A polite one. Just asking if the scan would be compared with the earlier one from the teaching hospital—just in case that hadn’t yet been done.

———

The rest of the day was a blur: pills and potions at regular intervals, and being woken from ugly sleep for lovely food.

The morphine seems to be taking the edge off the aches and pains, but I don’t like the idea of becoming housebound, life passing me by while I nod off in uncomfortable, drug-induced naps.

Enough of that, Mr U. You’re not that bad. It’s only temporary. (Hopefully.)

My hopes of getting out and about for a few short trips this week are now shelved.

And unless something remarkable happens, next week—usually my best, healthiest week—will be a washout too.

I didn’t hear anything back yesterday about my scan comparison question.

That’s not like them. Usually, replies come quickly.

That worries me too.

Did I ask something I wasn’t supposed to? Is my self-advocacy too much?

Am I becoming a bit of a pest?

———

Speaking of self-advocacy:

I’m starring in today’s Macmillan guest blog on that very topic.

One of my posts—Post 44—has been beautifully edited to promote positive change in hospitals, encouraging “joined-up thinking” across departments.