I’ve been well and truly looked after by Rachel since we got to Anglesey.  I think I’ve only made one cup of tea since we got here.  Everything else has been brought to me.  Not least the wines and whisky that made the journey with us.

And today will be no different.  Afternoon tea at a decent tea shop has been promised.

Despite some extraordinary winds, the hot tub has been well use.  Prosecco a favourite for this location.  And again, while I am capable of unclipping the lid and then securing it after use, Rachel has stepped in and done this for us every time.

She did have the cheek to beat me at Scrabble yesterday as those winds and rain forced us back inside.  I’m blaming the wine for impeding my thought process.

There is a problem to consider.  I can clearly feel something throbbing on my pelvis and it isn’t fun.  I’m still taking the osimertinib but now know that what Oncobabe saw on my scans, new spread of the disease, is real enough.  Any last hopes of a clinical error about the progress of this illness gone.

As before, it tends to come out late afternoon and hangs around into the night.  Small at present.  Irritating always.  Very painful on occasions.  Pulsing into my bone, presumably in time to my heartbeat, nibbling away.

When I see my radiotherapist Frank (I’ve named him after Frank Zappa) it won’t be hard for me to point to where it hurts most.  And invite him to blitz the area if he can.

Meanwhile,  the T7 verterbrae was the focus of some of the early spread of my disease in 2016.  And identified on my recent scan as being home to a revitalised tumour.  I think I can feel it.  Not in a painful way.  But a very slight stiffness.  Maybe psychosomatic.  Maybe real.  Whatever the truth, I’m becoming very aware of this disease doing its worst again.  And this time the conventional treatments left will only delay that progress a little.

So I enjoy life while I can.  I embrace being pampered by an exceptional lady who is full of so much warmth and affection for me.  And, despite everything, know I’m the luckiest man alive.

Bringing Up the Half Century