This time last year I felt good. Granted, I knew I was a goner, but on the whole I felt healthy. Regular walks around the local lake. Planning a series of mini breaks alongside some chunkier holidays. And believing I’d be the one to survive twice the average survival time for those on afatinib.
Tonight, after a six mile round trip into Halifax, I feel extraordinarily run down. Maybe it’s an after effect of Saturday night’s drug intake. That said, last night was more comfortable with no major drug intervention.
Maybe it’s a seasonal thing. Most likely it’s a cancer thing, but I’ve not felt this rough in quite some time. It’s all a bit rubbish. And I’d like to shake it off sooner rather than later.