Credit Tebbitt

It has arrived - and there is an air of anticipation in the house. I am referring to our latest item of conspicuous consumption, a Technogym Excite 700i upright exercise bike. The idea is to build on recent progress made with my exercise regime. I need regular cardiovascular work to counteract the toxic effects of the powerful 'chemo' drugs. The problem has always been; 'How to do this without creating further problems for my scoliotic back?' Recent, graduated and regular workouts on the equipment at my former school's Health and Fitness Centre, have indicated that an upright bike would be best. £450 later and the second-hand bike is here. Diana says I need 30 minutes a day of cv exercise to add to my 45 minute Pilates routine. Together with a regular walk to the shops, managing emails, a 'cup-of-tea' visit (home or away), catching up on the BBC news website, meals and  the usual bouts of procrastination and that's it, the day is over.

It has arrived - and I'll admit to being more anxious this time around. The letter informing me that my next thoracic/abdominal/pelvic CT scan is scheduled for the coming Thursday evening came with the enclosed small bottle of 'omnipaque' contrast that I have to swallow 24 hours before the appointment. It is strange how I briefly experienced a butterfly wing of excitement when the padded envelope complete with bulge arrived through the door. Amazon parcel? A forgotten order? An unexpected gift from an unknown admirer? I'll confess to a feeling of disappointment on opening the seal.

Yet, I should be pleased. This scan, already delayed, is important because it promises to provide information on the critical question as to whether the reduction in my 'chemo' dosage has reduced the efficacy of the drug. If it has then my recent tangible, physical improvement and the accompanying, reassuring sense of control, will have been dealt a serious blow.

The 'sense of control' referred to above derives from the two areas of lifestyle that offer a measure of self-help when confronted by a barely-understood condition like cancer and the barely-understood interventions of medical science. These areas are diet and exercise. When things are being done to you, you need to feel that there are things you can do for yourself.

As far as the dietary element is concerned, if 'you are what you eat', then my flesh should, by now, be composed of organic vegetable fibre, my hair of wholemeal vermicelli pasta and my heart powered by soya protein. My pulse should be regulated by pulses and the blood that courses through my locally-grown veins must be a blend of organic carrot and beetroot juice. Tumours should have no purchase within such a body; they should wither on the vine-leaf dolmades. Our weekly supermarket shopping trolley is now so stuffed with vegetables that we serve as role models for those still fortunate to be eating high sugar-salt, dairy-drenched, processed, hydrogenated, saturated fat-fuelled ready-made meals. A fellow shopper, following me alongside the checkout conveyor belt, asked whether she could come home with me. She was, she said, 'so impressed' with the contents of my trolley.

She could, quite plausibly of course, have been employing a euphemism.

My mood swings according to whether I am focused on that which I can (up) or cannot (down) do. When I exercise, I sense the possibility of restoring something of my physical self. Intellectually, I know that I cannot undo what has been done but there is, at least, a possibility of improvement.

Ok, that's enough procrastination for one morning.

The time has come for me to follow Norman Tebbitt's famous dictum, 'get on your bike and look for [a] work[out]................'