I think I've still got it in me.
I bashed that last post out a lot quicker than I thought I would.
I'm not the best, far from it, but I CAN convey thoughts and how I feel in a way that people actually understand.
I think I need to start doing more writing. If only to release a valve in my brain.
To decompress.
A release.
An escape
Monday 31 December 2018
Goodbye 2018
An acquaintance of mine who happened to come across this blog reminded me that given my cancer condition it would be useful to update it because well, you know, people will assume the worse. After we both laughed at this, I agreed that he did have a point.
To confirm, on the last day of the year, I am not dead yet. I am, however, very tired. Tired of lots of things but mostly of having treatment and feeling unwell. You can't really blame me given that for the last fourteen months I've been nuked every week with only a week's rest between each chemo session. With still four more cycles to go. Pumped full of revolutionary chemo. Immunotherapy being the buzz word and encouraging my body to do its business. It seems to be working for now but my god, it's hard.
I'm very lucky to have access to such treatment but it's all relative I suppose.
Lucky to be punctured each week (twice a week the first few months); lucky to have such overwhelming fatigue my weekends disappear in sleep; lucky to have to manage what little energy I have between demotivational work or inspirational play; lucky being lucky I guess.
Because I look so well! Great apparently. The expensive beauty balm and lipstick hiding the terrible darkness in my brain and body where I'm constantly asking what the fuck is this all for?
I remind myself that's it's for me, for all the things I'm yet to do and see, new people to meet and all the adventures I'm still to have.
A friend sent me the photo below. They walked past it and thought of me. I love it. It inspires a sense of freedom and escape. New waters for me to sail into and discover.
Goodbye 2018. You've mostly been awful.
Hello 2019. Be kind.
To confirm, on the last day of the year, I am not dead yet. I am, however, very tired. Tired of lots of things but mostly of having treatment and feeling unwell. You can't really blame me given that for the last fourteen months I've been nuked every week with only a week's rest between each chemo session. With still four more cycles to go. Pumped full of revolutionary chemo. Immunotherapy being the buzz word and encouraging my body to do its business. It seems to be working for now but my god, it's hard.
I'm very lucky to have access to such treatment but it's all relative I suppose.
Lucky to be punctured each week (twice a week the first few months); lucky to have such overwhelming fatigue my weekends disappear in sleep; lucky to have to manage what little energy I have between demotivational work or inspirational play; lucky being lucky I guess.
Because I look so well! Great apparently. The expensive beauty balm and lipstick hiding the terrible darkness in my brain and body where I'm constantly asking what the fuck is this all for?
I remind myself that's it's for me, for all the things I'm yet to do and see, new people to meet and all the adventures I'm still to have.
A friend sent me the photo below. They walked past it and thought of me. I love it. It inspires a sense of freedom and escape. New waters for me to sail into and discover.
Goodbye 2018. You've mostly been awful.
Hello 2019. Be kind.
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