Hello, it's February.
It's always bad in February - see previous Februarys.
Same thing - bit worse.
I am mostly coping by putting my head down and forging towards March. There will be a slight hiccup on Wednesday because I can't ignore or avoid the Princess Oncologist. I am fearing bad news. I am always fearing bad news. But this time I think there are some nodes in my neck that weren't there before. And my shoulder is looking scary. I thought for ages it was lymphoedema - which it still may be, partially or entirely - but there's now a distinct bump at the front......
I think this may be my last year. And I fear that thinking it will make it so. So I try not to think it. Which is hard to achieve. I didn't really believe that 32 would be it. I still don't but it's starting to feel a bit like it. This is Not Enough. 32 years is Not Enough.
I am very, very frightened. Not of being dead. Of the dying. I am too vain to die. You look crap and death-y for ages leading up to it. I'm not up for that. Plus, you know, being in pain and fear and sadness.
February, hurry up and leave. I hate you and you make me totally unsettled.