By a sleep, we say to end the heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.
(You’ll have to forgive my rusty recollection of Hamlet’s soliloquy. It goes something like that.)
Basically, my coping strategy was “when things get tough, sleep, and when you wake up they’ll be better”. So I don’t apologise for the load of pictures of me sleeping. There isn’t an awful lot else to do when you’re having unadulterated cytotoxicity being given IV.
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- By July of that year, I’d gone full chemo. No hair, steroid bloated, really quite miserable.
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- Just don’t wake me up.
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- The graffiti was worth it (just) for the musical serenade.
