The jab into the left arm was fine, the one into the right sent an odd sensation down my forearm. Not pain as such but oddly uncomfortable. It soon passed but clearly, in that arm at least, the drugs were flowing into my system quickly. Theme of today has been tiredness.

Tiredness and snow.

Both feature highly amongst the endless glasses of water and pill popping.

I was slightly concerned that my drugs, delivered to the hospital every day from North London, might not make it through the snow as the country crumbled under a mild dusting of seasonally expected frosting. Either that or it would be just me and the drugs in an empty room bereft of someone to administer them. Happily this was not the case and whilst some of the other, considerably older, visitors to my particular ward had stayed at home, putting off transfusions for another day when they were less likely to suffer a broken hip skating across the hospital car park, both my drugs and the nurse to administer them were present.

The Haematology Day Unit is a particularly serene place in the heart of an otherwise bustling section of the hospital. A sixth floor room, nestled between two wards, with full height windows looking out over the local town and on to Richmond Park. Here, as doctors as nurses scuttle passed outside, the inhabitants merrily discuss the lunch menu, the inclement weather, and how posh it they felt when Camp Coffee was introduced during the war to plug the gap in place of dwindling tea supplies.

Without doubt I am half the age of anyone else attending.

Run with efficiency by an always cheery nurse everyone present gets their drips, plasma, and drugs administered in what ever way needed. Gaps in the drip changing schedule and trips to the pharmacy are filled with a tea round or two. Come Friday I'm tempted to take in some biscuits to top off the pleasant air and fill any gaps left by the often lack lustre offerings from the hospital kitchen. Whilst my visits are quick some of my fellow inhabitants are there for the day, I'm sure a Custard Cream or two will help them through.

With my injections done and a cup of coffee had I headed back home through the snow. There are still no ill effects to speak of aside from the arm thing and a headache above my right eye just after my jab. It felt like the brain freeze that, ordinarily, can only be achieved my sucking too hard on a McDonald's milk shake. It soon subsided and is probably not related to the chemotherapy at all. I'm at the point now where I am mentally on the lookout for every ache, pain, twitch and itch that might be the start of something more severe.

As I write more snow is forecast for tomorrow but thankfully my drugs for the rest of the week have already been delivered. There's nothing to stop me getting to the hospital and the nurse indicated a dogged determination not to let her patients down so all being well my therapy will not be snowed off. Tomorrow is when my neutrophils should really start to drop. Bring on Day Four!