I realized with a bit of a jolt yesterday that it was 6 months to the day that I got my first symptoms. It was a bit of a strange feeling. I feel like I've missed the bus that had my life in it. Everyone around me is on their way to where they're going. And I'm not. I'm left behind. Its not a good feeling.
I walked to work the day before. I almost didn't as it was a hot morning, but I'm glad I did. It's a bit tiring when stacked against working too but I'm glad to be able to do it. I miss walking everywhere. I miss a lot of things these days.
So today brings us the sad news that Alan Rickman has died of cancer at 69. Like Bowie, it seems that no one knew he was sick. It also seems that at this point it's not been announced what kind of cancer, or how long ago he was diagnosed. In some ways, that kind of info doesn't matter, and in the past I wouldn't have even worried about it. Now I want to know.
And I want a cure. Now please.
This is the photo of the moment, it's all over social media. I have slightly mixed feeling about it. It's a cute tribute I guess, but it doesn't really help them or anyone else with cancer.