Sometimes the creative choice is tying Mal up and throwing him into the abyss.

It’s been a very rough few weeks. Chemotherapy sucks pretty much as badly as you might expect it does, I just have to keep reminding myself is the reason I’m getting all of this is my chances of being cured are still pretty good. It does feel weird to be poisoning myself (or, more accurately letting highly trained, compassionate health care staff poison me) to kill something lodged in my lungs/rest of me, but it’s not that much different to any other sort of long bout of injections, except the people carrying my ones have to wear protective clothing.

I’m trying to keep up with doing the comic as much as I can, but it’s not easy. Chemo makes it very hard to think, and I’m getting visual and neural disturbances that make it hard to type. This morning is the first time I’ve been able to do more than a sentence or two in a row.

With all this said, I’m still feeling hopeful about the future, both for me and Cthulhu Slippers. We just have to get there first.

– Andrew