This picture was taken the day after my birthday last year. Two weeks after I had been told I had cancer and 3 days after my first chemotherapy treatment. In that time I had cried, been sick, barely eaten, had my hair cut (it was down past my shoulders before).
I look at this photo and I see the tiredness in my eyes; the 'deadness' - it's like I'm not there. And although, at this time, things were tough - I had no inkling of just how tough they were going to become. Or, indeed, how much sicker I was going to look by the end. I don't have many photos of me once my hair came out and I started to look really ill - really like a person with cancer. By that point none of us really felt like taking pictures - we didn't want to remember that time; we didn't want to be in that time.
Today as I type this - I am sitting in exactly the same place in my flat, with the same blanket over my knees. What's changed? A lot, a little, nothing? All of the above? Probably.
Some things have gotten better, some have become worse.
I loved this haircut and I wanted it back - but now of course my hair is different again. I can't keep up!