I tend to take to the blogs section to whinge, so here goes.

I have been living with cancer for almost four years now (well, four years since diagnosis, but it was obviously invading various parts of my body before then.)

Long story short - diagnosed stage 4 December 24th 2018. Great Christmas present. Treatment (chemo and radiotherapy) started early in 2019, knocked me for 6 and the spinal damage left me unable to walk more than a few paces and having to use the kind of gadgets normally reserved for the very elderly - things to pull of your socks, jar openers and grabbers to pick up stuff from the floor.

Various drugs have kept me fairly healthy since then and it was during my rehabilitation I decided that as my life was likely to be considerably shorter than the average, I should avoid stuff I found boring and concentrate on what I love doing. Besides, when you can't walk too well, sitting in front of a keyboard has its advantages. I began writing my Dragonriders of Pern fan fiction early in 2020 and considered I had enough material to begin posting online around June.

Since then, it's been like a roller coaster. If only I could have been so prolific before I got ill. But I wouldn't. There were always other things to do. The motivation of posting a weekly chapter and responding to reader's comments is as good as completing a really satisfying scene. Becoming a Promising Author on GA was like winning an award.

I have loads of ideas about things I want to write. Trouble is, I don't think I'll have the time. Lately, I've been deteriorating again. My liver lesions are stable with the tablet chemo I'm on, but it's my spine that's causing a lot of problems. Earlier in the year my left hand index finger and middle finger went numb as a result of nerves being pinched, or abraded by the bony growths. Now it's spread to the right side and I'm also experiencing balance issues and trouble walking again. My grip and arm strength is so weak, the doctor advised me yesterday I should stop driving for safety reasons. Most of this has happened frighteningly fast. 

I'm trying to finish my anthology story, even though I can't type as fast as I used to. I'm almost through the last chapter of 'To the Weyr' and I'd love to write the sequel but I'm frightened I won't be able to finish it. Pain makes it hard to concentrate on writing, as does fatigue and some medication side effects. I hope I'll be around to do everything I want to do, but at the moment, I can't be sure.

Whinge over.

PS - The phrase 'living with cancer' always makes me think of living with a very inconsiderate flat mate, who uses up all the milk in the fridge, never empties the rubbish and trashes the loo.