Yes, nothing like shillshallying through the galaxy that is my mind, sputtering into activity half the time and free-floating the rest.
But now I’m back. Nothing like a hiatus to put things in perspective after the latest bunch of developments. And time to get used to (the discomfort of) them and the ensuing depression that causes a (barely perceptible to anyone else) personality shift.
So where have you been?
Taking break from my old “normal” life, sliding down the balustrade that is the tumbling tumour marker. It turns out, a change in environment is well worthwhile.
Are you okay?
I’m breathing well
despite being practically unfit as a newborn baby unable to even hold up its own head,
despite crumbling bones and degenerating muscle
despite impaired brain function
– all thanks to the drugs that’ve been crushing the tumour.
You often talk about exercise and fitness. Why’re you hung up on that when you have more important things to worry about?
Because I’ve realised that it’s my coping mechanism and since it was stripped away a few years ago, I never really replaced it with anything. And now that I can’t walk more than a flat 1km stroll without being man down in a darkened room under the influence of some strong pain pill, it pisses me off. I have limbs that I can’t use and I need to sleep and sit down a lot.
Clearly you’re alive but are you kicking?
Yes, kicking the drugs again although they’ll take 3 – 6 months to get out of my system before I can start to feel different (better?).
What’s the plan then?
I’ve politely benched the oncologist. To detox. First a parasite cleanse and then a liver cleanse. That’ll take a month or two. I do hope I start to feel better in that time.
Will it help the tumour?
Dunno. At this point, I don’t care. It’s been 5 years and I’m out of tolerance. The game needs to change. If I carry on with the drugs, I’ll end up slitting my wrists or rolling around wheelchair bound listening to people tell me I look so good I must be under the spell of a touch of hypochondria. I’ve had enough of those types so I’ve installed an insensitivity monitor that ejects their seat out of my orbit at the speed of whiplash.
Is there good news?
Always. In a warped way, now that my time is my own, I get to choose what to do with it and hopefully find real purpose in slow pace writing. The muse visits occasionally, I’m happy to say. Note to Universe: need more frequent, synchronised synapse firings.
Okay, good luck then.