It’s a basic result of my condition (if you’ll forgive the wordplay) that there will be times when it is, quite literally, a pain in the rear.
And it has been, quite consistently, for a few days now.
Last night was the nadir. Pressure from the tumour had me heading for the loo seven or eight times over a couple of hours. And, each time, producing mucus and/or faecal material from my back passage with increasing amounts of pain.
I suspect my messed-up digestion is partially responsible but the only solution is to keep taking my painkillers and to avoid parking myself on my rear end as much as possible.
I’m taking the opportunity to binge watch ‘Elementary’ on Prime, which is good enough and interesting enough to distract me. Even though I have watched most of the episodes on my iPhone, in bed…
I’m not exactly looking forward to my radiotherapy next week. I’m not worried about the treatment, as such, but it will mean five straight days of two-hour round trips to Addenbrookes while – obviously – sitting on my bottom. Plus waiting time, of course.
Nor am I delighted by the likelihood that initially – at least – the treatment will make my symptoms worse rather than better.
But nothing ventured, nothing gained. And if there’s the slightest chance I can alleviate my perpetual arse-ache – even temporarily – then it’s probably worth taking.
And I really do want to score at least one resounding hit on Boris the Bloated Bastard before the inevitable end credits begin to roll…