The blog lives on

Many of you read my previous blog. It was born on the very first day I ended up in the hospital with acute leukemia. I wrote at breakneck speed about everything I was going through, capturing every thought and feeling that raced through my mind. You read along, in ever-growing numbers. At first, perhaps, out of a fear of my demise; later, out of curiosity about how I was faring.

I kept writing, but with less and less conviction and at a drastically lower frequency. I started feeling like a bit of an "imposternator" again, coasting on a sickness I once had. So, I figured I’d had enough.

But then came The Book, born from a selection of those blog posts, chronicling my entire journey. Both the process of creating this book—which brought me so much joy—and the wonderful responses I’ve received (and continue to receive) from readers, have awakened something in me again.

I wrote it initially because people asked for it—the blog readers. But once it hit the shelves and began to spread beyond my inner circle, I received unexpectedly beautiful reactions. Often from total strangers; people who dared to send me, as a writer, an email sharing what my book meant to them. And it isn't limited to stories of illness. People recognize themselves in all sorts of aspects of my story: dealing with a loss of identity, relentless perseverance in the face of setbacks, not being afraid of death, and shaping life on your own terms. These are themes that play a role in so many lives. All those lovely messages show me that my writing apparently has value—that it helps people. That motivates me to keep going, to keep writing.

This time, I don’t want to limit myself to the story of "the patient." I want to write about what moves me. About what I see in the world around me. About anything that comes to mind and inspires a story.

For that, I need a clean slate. A blank page in a new notebook. And that is what this new blog is.

Live on! Those were the words I came across on the beach at Camps Bay in 2019. It felt like a divine command then—a command to myself. And a practical instruction for all of us, every single day.

I will still write about things related to illness and death. I will always be the Hermanator. But I want to broaden the scope, adding more lightheartedness without being the "eternal patient."

I hope you’ll join me again, my loyal readers, and I hope new followers will sign up. From now on, every post will also be available in English, to accommodate those few persistent readers who have been translating my stories themselves until now.

I’m curious to see what’s coming. Read along with me!