If you manage to fight the urge to punch him in the face for long enough (the struggle is real), Joe Wicks claims that you can transform your life (and body) in just 90 days.
The immensely popular Bullet Journal – prime for those Pinterest worthy desk-shots – is also based on a similar set of principles, which can be applied to all manner of targets. The mode of execution is simple – not an app, or system but, good old-fashioned pen-and-paper (along with the purchasable journal of course).
You start big and then break those objectives down into manageable chunks, which in turn form a set of associated actions. There is a need for time – to ‘check in’ with yourself – daily, weekly, monthly and so on.
More specifically, 90-day goals are thought to be ‘just right’ – long enough to establish momentum and achieve results, whilst requiring a sufficient level of refinement so as not to remain finger in the air ‘idea’ stuff.
Breaking down bigger plans helps to make them happen. I’m sure we would all agree on that.
I should probably point out here that I wasn’t thinking about any of this on Monday afternoon as we sat in the consultation room – the wait – which stretched out just long enough – to ensure that the inevitable butterflies arrived as the chairs were moved by friendly but difficult-to-read faces.
I’ve spent the last 18 months (I’ll say that again – 18 months!) in some form of numerically quantifiable treatment. Planning, cycles and rounds – to be counted and reviewed.
The results of my latest scan (in March) were stable, meaning that there has been no change since December 2017.
Tumour remains, but the focus has shifted. We’ve given it everything in the weapon store and are in the best position we can be.
It’s funny that although I fall asleep gently stroking the dips and bumps of my scar and wake with what feels like a sort of skull tightness – to carefully comb strands of hair which (if placed correctly) strategically cover the not insignificant bald patch – my treatment is no longer in the present tense.
It will take some getting used to.
And now? We are transitioning from chemotherapy to ‘closely monitoring’, with three-monthly scans.
We talked about recovery (the need for ‘it’, and how long it might take), and most importantly “keeping me well”.
The longer-term, what can I say? The answers remain the same: hard-to-predict or pin-down, which is not necessarily a bad thing.
In (approximately) 90 days I’ll be back in the scanner again.
I hope to feel a bit better than now – it is so soon that it got me contemplating time – along with Bullet Journals and yeah, Joe Wicks.
I won’t be mentally ticking off items on my to-do list mid-MRI, or ‘holding myself to account’ whilst awaiting results – but, I think I can say for sure that I will be asking myself – when we’re back in that room again – have I made the most of it?
Doing fun things with the people that really matter?