I want to start this one differently.
Every chapter so far has found a way to end on something positive — a small win, a moment of humour, a reason to keep going. I'm going to try to do that again here, because I do believe it, and because ...
I jinxed it, didn't I.
Chapter 19 was called "Ten Quiet Days." I wrote about getting back to normal, feeling well, doing some work, cooking properly. I practically signed off with a cheerful wave and the suggestion that having less to w...
It's been ten days since I last wrote one of these. Ten days is a long gap by my standards over the last few months, and I think that gap actually tells its own story. When there's less to write about, less drama to process, that's usually a sign thi...
There is a particular kind of frustration that must only exists in hospitals.
It isn't the frustration of pain, or fear, or uncertainty — though all of those are present too. It's the frustration of a system that is simultaneously extra...
Nobody told me it would feel like someone was slicing my penis in half.
That's not the kind of thing that appears in the immunotherapy leaflets. The leaflets talk about fatigue and flu-like symptoms. They mention, in passing, that some patients ...
