Happy Friday!

Just over a year ago Miguelito told me 'this [GBM] thing is like getting in the ring with Mike Tyson', and there ensued a bunch of boxing metaphors before I calmed down a little and started peddling cycling pablums. Still, the pugilist in me was a little disappointed when the bout raged on beyond a poetic twelve (chemo) rounds. 

Today was scheduled to be Chemo Friday #16. I'd 'normally' have loaded up with a few anti-oxidant shots, taken the anti-nausea pill, started the 3-hour pre-chemo fast. In response my body would have started subconsciously quivering and convulsing at the thought of the metronomic intoxication to come. Not this Friday. Ingrid and I decided, with the incredible help of our closest medical adviser, beloved Dr Andrés, that this was a good a moment to rest. 

The good news: the tumour is about as quiet as could be expected at this point and and backing off the temozolomide will give my body a chance to detox and prepare for the title defence. The bad news: the challenger will most likely come at me with a vengeance. When? The scientific money says any time between 8 and 30 months from now. But we're preparing for that eventuality. Our old friend, the temozolomide may well be there alongside other less toxic responses ranging from surgery to pioneering medicines. My brain tumour samples are on their way from storage in Wales to Cambridge, Massachusetts via London for genomic profiling. This should generate new personalised treatment options. 

Yes, It's a bit scary to remove the chemo 'safety net' (I never thought I'd string those three words together), but we're taking a long-term view on this. DON'T PANIC. The bikes have moved over to make room for the pram, the spare room has been transformed into a nursery, I've officially launched my Kona Quest (huh? Watch this space...), Ingrid is wrapping things up at work before her maternity leave, and we're counting down the days to our 'six-month weekend' with Ernie.

As for boxing poetry: our suspend-the-chemo decision comes at the end of 15 rounds, the old-school 'championship distance' of heavyweight titles.