There are currently two fixed points in my life as I'm what they call in between jobs. Two immovable pillars of routine that exist regardless of weather, mood, motivation, or whether I’ve decided to spend the morning catastrophising over a slightly suspicious ache in my neck.

I Made It. Now What? The bit nobody really warns you about

It’s strange to wake up and realise… there’s no hospital trip today: no mask, no chemo chair, no countdown on the fridge. For the first time in months, the day is mine again. Looking back, it’s hard to believe how far this road has stretched six rounds of chemo, thirty radiotherapies, countless blood tests, and more tea than the NHS should legally serve. Somewhere between the cannulas and the nausea, the person I was at the start got stripped away and rebuilt, piece by piece.

🙂 Boring you yet with my cancer saga? Guess what? I still don’t care. Bad hair days Eight chapters in, and if you’re still here, you either really love me, really hate Netflix, or just enjoy watching a middle-aged man document his slow transformation into a porridge-eating cyborg. Either way — welcome back to the chronicles of Platty vs. Cancer. When I first started this blog, I never imagined it would turn into a medical miniseries. I thought I’d write a few updates, drop i

🎸 Whoa, We’re Halfway There… Yes, this one’s late. Sorry about that — last week flattened me, and writing wasn’t happening. But here we are, and the good news is I’m officially past the halfway mark. Chemo 4/6 done. Radiotherapy 18/30 ticked off. More than halfway through this bizarre medical marathon. Or, as Bon Jovi put it: “Whoa, we’re halfway there… whoa-oh, livin’ on a prayer.” No screaming fans. No guitar solos. No leather trousers (thankfully). Just hospital chairs, p

🎤 Boring You Yet? “Boring you yet with my cancer story? Well… I don’t care 🙂. When I first set this blog up, it was really just for family and friends while I was working abroad. A way of keeping people in the loop without spamming them with WhatsApp about whether I’d survived another dodgy kebab or missed yet another flight connection. Then it went to finding the best coffee in Riyadh or places to visit. Fast-forward to now, and it’s morphed into something else entirely: a

💉 First Round at the Chemo Chair So here we are. Monday morning, 9:30 am sharp, parked in the chemo chair for my first proper session. They say it lasts six hours, but what they don’t tell you is it feels like an endurance event crossed with a really slow pub crawl — only instead of pints you get drip bags with names like Cisplatin Vintage 2025. The nurses are incredible. They glide about like seasoned baristas, swapping lines, checking drips, and making sure you don’t run d

I’m writing this not for sympathy but for awareness. A few months ago, I felt perfectly fit and healthy. Now, I’ve got scars, a diary full of hospital appointments, and a date with chemo and radiotherapy starting 4th September. If you take nothing else from this: don’t Google your symptoms. Please don’t sit on them. Go and see a doctor. I went from “absolutely fine” to “surprise, you’ve got surgery and six weeks of radiation” in record time. If even one person checks themselv

Well, I’ve made it. Not to the Premier League, not to the finals of Britain’s Got Talent, but into something far more exclusive but not wanted to a point — The 94% Club. Membership is strictly invite-only, and the joining process is… let’s just say thorough. 🎯 Entry Requirements To get in, you must: Have your neck filleted like a prize salmon. Lose a grand total of 50 lymph nodes (I didn’t even know I owned that many — turns out I was basically hoarding them like a body’s ve

🎯It’s been a few days since the op, and I’ve finally graduated from “confused patient in a gown” to “man in my PJs watching The Chase with a bowl of trifle.” Progress. But let’s rewind. Because last Monday was quite something. 🏥 Mission: Cancer Extraction I arrived at the hospital feeling like a man on a mission. A terrified, slightly dehydrated, undercaffeinated mission. The plan? Laser surgery to remove anything untoward left where my right tonsil (the sneaky one that was

Or: How I accidentally joined the head and neck cancer club without asking for a membership card A few months ago, I found myself poking at the side of my neck like a bloke checking for his wallet — over and over again. Why? Because there was a lump. Not a throbbing, screaming, “Look at me!” kind of lump. Just a subtle, squat little thing that had moved in rent-free. I’ve had chronic sinus issues and post-nasal drip for years, so I figured it was just another perk of my glamo