I've aged 10 years in the last three. Which is better, I guess, than decomposing somewhere but it's still depressing.
The lack of hair is a lot to do with it - but there's a weariness to my face that's not there in the shots we had in Sydney and in New Zealand.
A lot of this, I think is down to the fact that I've been robbed of certainty. I can't take things for granted anymore. There are the scans - every 12 weeks, which means planning every 9 and 2 weeks of waiting for results.
Then there's the need for proximity to a hospital that can treat me. Which means being in the US. Which means working within the confines of a visa. Which means not really being totally free.
And of course the scan / hospital cycle takes out the possibility of just disappearing on a trip that sees us disappearing off the map.
Some of it is creeping middle age. Some of it life taking its toll. But the lines on my face have been etched by harsh chemicals, th ebags under my eyes by poison injected into my veins and the heaviness in my bones by high levels of radiation.
I just wish that I'd earned, Keith Richard' style, the way that I look.
Or maybe this is just the melancholy of a first rainy day after weeks of brilliant blue skies.
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