Thank you.

I had my final dose of Idarubicin this afternoon and the PICC line is out. My treatment is complete. Cyril has been fucked right off.

Today feels like the first day of the rest of my life. I can start moving on with a renewed appreciation of what matters the most. In a way, I'm grateful Cyril has given me that.

I know you're here with me Mum and Dad, I've felt you by my side today, and I'm sure you heard the bell.* I hope it made you smile as I walked out of the hospital doors and into a future filled with possibilities.

This will be my final post in this blog, it seems like an appropriate time to close this chapter and enter the next. 

Thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout this journey. Bye for now! 

*Yes, I decided to ring it.

Not yet.

And just like that, almost 5 months to the day since my diagnosis, I'm back where it all started for my final course of chemotherapy.

The Doctor told me this morning: "You have responded brilliantly to the treatment and it is extremely rare, with the type of leukemia you have, that it comes back." I couldn't ask for any more. So Mum, Dad, I'll see you again but not yet. Not yet!

Last Tuesday me and my Partner went on the weekly Social Run with our running club. It was just over 4 miles at a steady pace through the woods. I felt great after. Although I've lost a lot of ground with my running, it's still a great tonic. It's funny how being active can actually give you more energy and the mental health benefits are immeasurable.

On Wednesday it was my little girl's 6th Birthday. There was a time this year when I didn't know if I'd be around to see it. I didn't know if I'd have the strength to pick her up, carry her on my shoulders and run around like a lunatic with her. I've always been immensely grateful to have her in my life. Now, even more so. We went out for a family meal and she told everyone, strangers included, that it was her Birthday! She brings so much joy and I'm happy to say I ran with her and carried her on my shoulders on the way home.

I made myself busy sorting stuff out for my Mum on Thursday. I was at a loose end in the evening when my mate messaged me and asked me if I fancied a couple of beers. I couldn't reply quickly enough and we were soon at the local putting the world to rights.

On Friday I went for a coffee and a catch up with a work colleague. It's always nice when people haven't seen you for a while and they comment on how well you're looking. I got a 3 mile run in before my Daughter's swimming lesson.

The next day it was my Daughter's Birthday party at the local bowling alley. It was chaos but it was fun. The rest of the day was a bit of a write off, I was knackered and I'd had my daily fill of socialising!

Yesterday I went for a run round the reservoir. I chatted to my Mum and Dad as I ran. Something I do occasionally, especially when I'm out in nature and feel close to them. I went and tidied up the garden at my Mum's house after. 

It occurred to me that I'll have days when I feel motivated and busy. I'll have days when I don't feel like doing anything and want to shut myself off from the world. Both states of being are OK. It's natural and part of the process. It's been an incredibly difficult few years and you don't heal overnight.

I called in at work and caught up with my team. I brought cakes - obligatory. Me and my partner went for a walk and a nice meal in the evening. I thought we'd enjoy a night of freedom before being subjected to hospital food again!

So today, I'm back in hospital. I'm hopeful it will only be for tonight. All being well, I'll have my treatment tomorrow and then I'll be going back home again in the evening.

When I was admitted to the haematology ward back in January, one of the first things I saw was the end of treatment bell next to the nurse's station. In the early days I would picture myself ringing that bell to mark the end of my treatment and my recovery. It kept me positive and gave me hope. Now the time is approaching to ring the bell, I'm not sure if I want to do it. All the people that matter the most to me, especially my Mum, were in that picture. It's also occurred to me there may be people on the ward who are not so lucky. The ringing of the bell might sound hollow to them. I think I might just ring the bell alone, quietly on my way out... and then I can start moving on with my life. 

Annus horribilis.

Next week I'll be having my final dose of chemo and the PICC line will be removed from my arm. It feels like the battle is all but won. Cyril is face down on the canvas and I'm starting to believe, more and more, that he's not getting back up.

I've gradually been getting back into running and have a couple of races planned. I'm hoping I'll get the OK to take up contact sports again soon and it would be great if I could start getting back into MMA. I've even been thinking about returning to work, although I'm conscious of going back too soon. 

We went away to Wales last week and had some quality time with the kids. They absolutely loved it and we visited some stunning places. The weather wasn't great but we made the most of it. 

We got back on Saturday and I was so tired I slept for 13 hours! All the driving, walking and early starts with my Daughter had clearly taken its toll. But I'm grateful for every minute I have with her, especially after the start to 2025 we've both had.

Since I've been back home I've been busy sorting stuff out with my Mum's Estate and getting back into the usual routine.  My thoughts have turned to next week and the finish line. I would have loved my Mum to be there and see me ring the bell to signal the end of my treatment. In some way, I suppose, she will be.

Don't sweat the small stuff.

Two years ago, to the day, I was on a lad's holiday in Albufeira. The sun was shining, the beer was flowing and APML was an acronym I was blissfully unaware of.

To be fair, the sun is shining today as I tap away on my keyboard with the kitchen door open.  So much has changed since then. 

I had one of my regular bone marrow biopsies this morning. Having your pelvis drilled is every bit as fun as it sounds.

While chatting to the chemo nurse we got onto the subject of my Mum. She said how pleased she would be that I'm coming out of the other side of my cancer battle. I'm not afraid to say it made me tearful and she gave me a big hug. 

I went round to my mate's after for a brew and a natter. We talked about life and the importance of not putting things off, because things can change so quickly. We both came to the conclusion that more holidays are required!

On Saturday I managed my first run for a little while. I'll gradually get back into it. 

My Daughter had a martial arts class on Sunday. It was her first session since my diagnosis and she was apprehensive, so we just sat and watched and said "hello" to everyone. You can't help but feel welcome in that place and by the end of the session she was saying that she wanted to come back and bring a picture for Sensei.

We had a BBQ in the afternoon with my Partner and her Daughter. I was bullied by the girls who decided to gang up on me. As I lay there being beaten up and shot at with Nerf guns, I realised that I'm heavily outnumbered. Chase the Yorkshire Terrier/Chihuahua cross provided little in the way of back up. Useless.

It was Sports Day yesterday. My little girl said she was nervous about it in the morning as she "wasn't going to win." I reassured her that it doesn't matter if you come in first or last place, it just matters that you try. By the time the sack race came round, she was a picture of relaxation on the start line. She was dancing around with her friend and almost missed the start! In spite of that, she came 2nd and was very happy. I felt very proud watching her and was thrilled that I could be there.

This quote may have come from an alcoholic who achieved no notable success until his late 40s, but it's a timely reminder from the prolific writer that we should all be a bit kinder to each other and not to sweat the small stuff:

"We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorised and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing."

- Charles Bukowski

The end is in sight.

Just a short post today. I now have a date for my final round of chemotherapy, the end is in sight!

The Doctor told me this morning that my blood counts have improved significantly. I am coming out of Neutropenia and starting to feel relatively normal again. I've even started thinking about when I might go back to work.

Booking in my final dose of the medicine that is simultaneously saving my life and kicking my arse felt bitter sweet. I wanted to report the good news to my Mum as I was leaving the hospital. I'm sure she knows, somehow.

The Doctor also re-iterated that my chances of making a full and complete recovery are very high. Fuck you Cyril!

I had a productive couple of days leading up to the today's appointment. Although I've not been able to exercise much lately - which has been driving me mad - I've got lots of life admin sorted and found ways to stay busy. 

I've had quite a few donations on my Just Giving page already, which is great. I'm looking forward to getting back into running and completing the half marathon in September. It occurred to me the other day that so many people are driven to fund raise for others when they are fighting their own battles. Maybe it's a way for us to find some positivity and give meaning to the suffering. 

Also, my hair is growing back!

Thinking ahead.

I was recently reading about Francesco Acerbi, the veteran defender who scored Inter's winning goal in the epic Champions League semi- final win over Barcelona. 

Acerbi battled alcoholism after the death of his Father. If that wasn't enough to deal with, he saw off testicular cancer twice. He is quoted as saying: "Without cancer I would have retired at 28... but with cancer my real life began, giving me a second chance."

What an incredible way to turn such potentially life shattering events into a catalyst for good. I'll have some of that please. 

Anyway, I'd not been feeling great lately, as I've alluded to. Experience has taught me there will be bumps in the road during my recovery. My blood tests today showed an improvement from last week and it directly correlates with me starting to feel a bit better. 

I had a lazy weekend and on Sunday, inspired by my Partner's positivity, I entered the Forest of Dean Half Marathon. I reckon I've got a few weeks to fully get over this round and then I can start training properly. The final round of chemo is only a day and I'm hoping it won't cause me any issues. I've no intention of "smashing a PB." Just to finish will be an achievement.

I'm running for two great causes: Cancer Research (which needs no introduction) and the Reorg Charity. Reorg creates safe environments through functional fitness and jiu-jitsu for veterans, military and emergency services personnel to support their physical and mental wellbeing. Both charities have helped me immeasurably and it's my way of paying them back in some small way.

You can support these great causes here:

https://www.justgiving.com/team/joe-davey

We've also set about booking holidays to give us plenty to look forward to when my treatment is done. It gives you a massive psychological boost to get a holiday or two in the diary, especially when you're feeling rubbish.

Tragic optimism.

I've taken a bit of a step back this week. My latest Neutrophil count was 0.4, meaning my body is severely compromised in its ability to fight off infections. My platelets are dangerously low and I've had to come in for a transfusion. 

I now know why I've felt shit recently and it's time to rest and recover. I think it's the delayed effects of the new drug Mitoxantrone. Sometimes you have to take a step back to keep moving forward.

As a naturally active and busy person, I've always found it hard to sit still for long periods of time. It's reassuring, in a way, to know that I've still got that "get up and go," but I need to play the long game and I can't rush my recovery. Coupled with the grieving process, it all adds up to another challenging time.

I've kept myself busy with admin, sorting out my Mum's Estate. When we lost my Dad it brought me and my Mum even closer and it helped me, at the time, to keep busy and get everything sorted for her. They were old school. My Mum looked after the kids and the house. My Dad went to work and sorted out all the bills. They were each reliant on the other for different things. When my Mum was feeling helpless, without my Dad, I'd remind her that he'd have felt the same without her. 

We got everything sorted, eventually. I still have that sense of service to my Mum and we'll get there this time, too. Above all, I'll find a way to keep going and be happy. She commanded it. 

I've become a big advocate of 'tragic optimism,' the ability to find hope and meaning in life despite experiencing pain, loss and suffering. Hardship is part of the human experience. It's unrealistic to dismiss it and deny negative emotions. Tragic optimism emphasises the potential for growth and resilience in the face of adversity.

Abraham Lincoln lost his Mother, aged 9. Later, the love of his life, Ann Rutledge, died suddenly. He was broken by it. Friends removed sharp objects from his home. He suffered from depression. But he didn't run from his feelings. He faced them. Lincoln journaled about death and meaning. He studied philosophy, poetry and scripture. He learned to hold grief in one hand and purpose in the other. He found a way to serve through the pain, not around it.

Viktor Frankl found meaning in the unimaginable suffering at Auschwitz. Both these great men found the ability to maintain hope and find meaning, not in spite of life's tragedies - but because of them. They weren't strong because they avoided the dark, they were strong because they integrated it. That's what real resilience looks like.

Tragic optimism isn't easy. It doesn't ask you to pretend everything is fine. It asks you to keep going - because everything isn't.