After two years of planned maintenance, starting with RD, then D, then PD for the last year, I took my last Pom capsule this morning and had my last dose of Dara last week. Glad to be shot of the daily drudge of remembering to take the damn thing and the variable fatigue. Some days I had no problems, others I had to embrace the nap. Now it's time to move to CAR-T starting with a vigorous course of Kyprolis and deck (boo) to get my M-spike at or near zero first. Who's done Kyprolis and how long did it take to see a drop in the m-spike? Anyone here done the new anitocel CAR-T? How was that?

https://youtu.be/9_W6AzYPsOw EPISODE 2 — THE DRUGS, THE DOG AND THE DREADED SIDE EFFECTS In the last episode, I explained how I went for a routine blood test and ended up in hospital being told I had leukaemia. Not quite the outcome I'd been hoping for. But after a rather eventful few weeks, I finally had a treatment plan. Fourteen months of medication. Starting with a drug called acalabrutinib, followed by the introduction of another drug, venetoclax, in month three. Simple enough. Or so you'd think. But what I haven’t mentioned is that when I went to collect my tablets from the pharmacy, I received the acalabrutinib along with Allopurinol, Aciclovir and Co-trimoxazole and some drugs for nausea or vomiting and finally one if I start suffering from diarrhoea. Something I hadn’t been told. So I did something that, in hindsight, might not have been the wisest decision. I read the leaflet. All of it. Every bloody word.

https://youtu.be/jArXIiAX5Os EPISODE 1 — THE NIGHT EVERYTHING CHANGED On Monday, the 20th of July 2026, I went for a routine blood test. By ten o'clock that night, the NHS was sending an ambulance to my house. By the early hours of Tuesday morning, I was lying in Yeovil Hospital, hooked up to machines, receiving blood transfusions, and being told I had leukaemia. And the first thing I asked was... "How long have I got?" Not exactly the Monday I'd been planning. This is the story of how I discovered I had chronic lymphocytic leukaemia, or CLL, and what it's been like trying to get my head around it. There'll be some serious stuff. There'll be some worrying stuff. And there'll be humour. Because I've always believed that if you can't laugh at life occasionally, particularly when it decides to kick you in the bollocks, then you're in for a pretty miserable time.