As I read the excerpt that appeared in last Saturday's Weekend Australian Magazine, I laughed, I cried, I laughed again. Not going to lie, I was a blubbering mess before I finished.
Rarely have I ever read the cancer journey told with an honesty and candour borne not of the need to get it off the chest but the need to share it in the common good, because much of what Bakes writes, particularly concerning the declining sexuality of the cancer sufferer, is not stuff we really know about.
It's not easy to read, but it is compelling, and only a writer of Tim Baker's calibre could have made it so. Tim's defied his prognosis by two years now, but who's counting? Just go for it, mate.
Rarely have I ever read the cancer journey told with an honesty and candour borne not of the need to get it off the chest but the need to share it in the common good, because much of what Bakes writes, particularly concerning the declining sexuality of the cancer sufferer, is not stuff we really know about.
It's not easy to read, but it is compelling, and only a writer of Tim Baker's calibre could have made it so. Tim's defied his prognosis by two years now, but who's counting? Just go for it, mate.
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