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.

Now Paying a Cheque in Seems Difficult

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