D-Day; Of diagnosis, dreams and drawing.

Friday 11th November
Armistice day. I’ve had fifty good years, I thought. More than the poor young British boys and men who were cruelly snatched from this life at the Somme. 19,240 on the first day alone. Many just 16 years old. The men women and children of Mosul and Aleppo come to mind too. Modern day horrors that put my worries into perspective. I’m the lucky one. Continue reading “D-Day; Of diagnosis, dreams and drawing.”

Diary of a cancer diagnosis, life and everything.

I suppose most healthy people may not want to read this. For the last fifty years I have thought Cancer something that happened to unfortunate others. I could easily tune-out, on hearing the word, reassured that it could not happen to me. It did! Now I’m like a sheepdog to his masters’ whistle when I hear it. Continue reading “Diary of a cancer diagnosis, life and everything.”