In this episode of The Lonely Road, I face two things I never expected to deal with while seriously ill in hospital freezing my sperm… and being weirdly excited about a machine that looks like it belongs in Star Trek.

Before starting treatment, I’m sent to the Andrology unit to freeze what I quickly nickname Kiwi’s Little Soldiers. Cue a wheelchair ride, dark police humour, and a care package from work colleagues in the form of FHM and Nuts magazines — “just in case the hospital ones aren’t very good.” Thank God for mobile internet.

Then it’s onto the Apheresis machine: two needles the size of javelins, blood leaving my body, getting spun around, and being returned minus the bits trying to kill me. Terrifying? Yes. Weirdly cool? Also yes — apparently just to me.

Uncomfortable, embarrassing, frightening, and far funnier than it probably should be, this episode proves that while cancer takes a lot from you, it doesn’t get to take the piss.

Episode 10 takes you inside one of the most surreal days of my cancer journey.

From being examined by a Professor and a group of nervous medical students — apparently my enlarged spleen was “textbook” — to turning my diagnosis into a very blunt classroom discussion, this episode blends dark humour with uncomfortable reality.

I then talk openly about the bone marrow biopsy I’d been dreading: the pain, the fear of not knowing what’s happening behind you, and the strange experience of being part of the learning process for junior doctors.

The episode finishes with a deeply personal moment. Still processing my CML diagnosis, emotional conversations led to a decision to bring my wedding forward. With hindsight, I reflect on how illness can affect judgement and why major life decisions probably shouldn’t be made in the emotional aftermath of devastating news.

Honest, raw, darkly funny — this is Episode 10 of The Lonely Road Podcast.

The ward fills with visitors — friends, family, colleagues — and I find myself retelling the same story over and over, slowly learning to say the word cancer out loud.

Explaining it to others somehow helps me cope, even as fear sits just beneath the surface and a looming bone marrow biopsy hangs over the weekend.

Nights are the hardest, when the ward goes quiet and my thoughts drift to mortality, funerals, and the unfairness of it all.

This episode explores humour as a coping mechanism, the loneliness of hospital nights, and the strange peace that comes after facing your darkest thoughts.

It’s about learning to slow down — even when you’ve spent a lifetime doing anything but.

A warm welcome on an NHS ward contrasts sharply with the weight of what I’m about to be told.

In a surprisingly “posh” hospital room, I’m diagnosed with Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia — a condition that once meant a death sentence, but now comes with hope, medication, and a future.

This episode captures fear, dark humour, misplaced optimism about Scout camp, and the moment a nurse simply says the words I needed to hear: “It isn’t fair.

A hospital transfer, a cannula in my arm, and a phone call that briefly made me forget where I was — even as I faced the possibility of leukaemia.

A joke about missing Scout camp, a decision to fight, and an unexpected moment of kindness from a stranger on a minibus through London.

This episode is about humour, human connection, and the words that stay with you long after they’re spoken.

Episode 6 takes place in the waiting — the ward between answers.

Surrounded by strangers fighting their own battles, I spend a restless night coming to terms with uncertainty, kindness from nurses, and conversations you never expect to have with people you’ve only just met.

This episode explores the strange community of a hospital ward, the contrasts between holding onto life and wanting to let go, and the dark, awkward humour that finds its way in even when things feel fragile.

From shared words with another patient, to uncomfortable realities, to being told I’m being transferred again, this is an episode about limbo — and what it means to keep going when nothing is clear yet.

Honest. Human. Unfiltered.

Episode 5 is the moment everything changes.

After what feels like reassurance, doctors return with a different tone — and blood results that can’t be ignored. My white blood cell count is dangerously high, and suddenly the words leukaemia and lymphoma are on the table.

This episode captures the shock of hearing life-altering news, the instinct to fight before fear can catch up, and the impossible question no one can answer: Am I going to die?

From telling my family, to facing scans, waiting rooms, and the quiet moments where your mind runs ahead of reality, this is the episode where uncertainty becomes real.

Raw. Honest. Unforgettable

Episode 4 of The Lonely Road drops me into Charing Cross A&E under police escort, surrounded by doctors, machines, and words I don’t yet understand.

What follows is a haze of pain, fear, dark humour, and medical decisions being made around me rather than with me. As possibilities are discussed and needles get bigger, the reality of not knowing what’s wrong starts to hit.

This episode captures vulnerability, the comfort of a familiar hand, and the strange moments of humour that surface even in hospital beds — including one unforgettable encounter with a one-litre bottle.

Raw, honest, and unfiltered.

Episode 3 reflects on the day I collapsed at work—and the shock of a moment that forced everything to stop.

This episode isn’t about drama, but about what happens when your body intervenes before your mind is ready to listen. It marks a turning point on The Lonely Road.

The next episode continues with my arrival at Charing Cross Hospital.

In Episode 2 of The Lonely Road Podcast, I share the background behind The Lonely Road and the context in which it was written.

I also offer a brief clarification around my drinking during that time, being clear and responsible about what that period did—and did not—look like.

This episode is about setting the foundation, providing transparency, and moving forward with shared understanding