Well, I’m back. The last few months had been… difficult. Alistair’s Delayed Intensification phase was just like what it sounded like: intense. And at the end of the three-month-ish phase, his blood counts crashed. He needed multiple red blood and platelet transfusions.
I had a good chat with a friend recently. Our conversation veered to the topics of motherhood and career and dreams (as it usually does), and I confessed to her that I still harbour dreams to write my own novels and sell my own paintings.
So, it’s been more than six months since Alistair was diagnosed with leukaemia. He’s been responding very well to treatment, thank God, and our oncologist is more than happy with his progress.
(I had originally posted this on my Substack. But the hubby convinced me to focus on my blog instead of going on so many branches 😛 I still like Substack though. If you’d like to subscribe to my Substack emails, here’s how you can do it.) It’s that time of
As 2021 drew to an end, I had only one thought in my mind: “Well, good riddance.” To say that 2021 was a horrible year sometimes felt like an understatement. And yet… I couldn’t bring myself to totally hate the year that was. Despite Alistair’s diagnosis and the rollercoaster that
As many of you know, Alistair had finished the first phase of his treatment – the induction therapy. It was four weeks of chemotherapy and other treatment, and the goal was to get him into remission by the end of the induction period. And that was why he had his bone