October 2022
It's August. I'm in hospital following my stem cell transplant. I'm exhausted but can't sleep. I'm not really hungry but even if I was my mouth hurts too much to eat. I have antibiotics by a drip every six hours, my vitals are checked every four. Walking the few meters to the bathroom is a struggle. I feel hollowed out. Boris Johnson is the Prime Minister.
It's September. I'm back home now but still very weak. I've managed a few walks around the block, possibly even a short walk in the forest. At work the team are in the south of France for a summer offsite. I am not. Life is something that is happening elsewhere, to other people. Instead of the vibrant colours of experience there are just smudges of grey. Liz Truss is the Prime Minister.
It's October. I'm feeling a lot better but still get quite tired and full of aches and pains. I feel old. Worn down by the weight of years I am yet to live. I'm spending a lot of time playing and writing music which is really keeping me going. I've been told that to further increase my chances of a full cure I should have some radiotherapy. Ok. Sure. What else is there to say. The timing of this will mean there is a reasonably good chance I won't be able to attend the winter offsite in December, which would be the third one in a row. We also had plans to travel to Seoul in December, but now that is a little uncertain. It feels like I only make plans so I have something to cancel. Rishi Sunak is the Prime Minister.