My mom had to remind me how exhausted I was the last time I had chemo. ‘You wrote about it.” Oh ya, I did.
The idea of rereading that blog post to remind myself how crappy it was seems counterproductive or masochistic. While misery does, to an extent, love company, I think it prefers the company of someone else, not the memory of its own past misery. I’ll take her word for it.