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Saturday, November 13, 2010

Felice Navida

Tonight I went out and had a great night with 'the girls'. Last night was my BFF Birthday and I was so sick I had to leave half way through the meal. There is no rhyme or reason to this bullshit. When you get sick, you get SICK. And I tried to struggle through, but to no avail.

For the first hour that I was at the Birthday dinner I had NO IDEA what anyone was saying. It is a bizzare and scary feeling. You pretend, because you don't want to miss out on all the fun. But I'm not going to kid you, I knew I shouldn't have gone.

I wanted to go, but I knew I was too sick to go. So you go anyway...

Hoping that I would come good.

I didn't.

I even told BFF that I didn't have her Birthday prezzie with me, until she said "really?" and we both realized it was in my hand...

My brain is fried.

When the BFF/Birthday girl turns to you and says "you REALLY should go home", you give up the ghost and sneak out.

I 'back-doored' it, because it is easier than announcing to a group of 18pax, why you have to leave. It is boring, dull, embarrassing and a constant reminder that you are sick.

Today I spent the entire day on the lounge and started to come good around 6pm.

Phone calls were recieved, and I decided I felt fine and headed out.

Drinks/laughs/dinner with 'the girls' ensued.

We ended up in a bar. We know the owner, and it was full of laughs and cute boys.

A 'chap' wandered up and we started chatting. All was looking good. There was mutual flirting and the night was progressing the way any single girl would want it to. And then some DOUCHE walked up and said "So, you have cancer??"

I tried to dismiss the DOUCHE, but the damage was done. Suddenly it was like a blind had been pulled down across single-dudes eyes. He said "really? Do you?" With no where to retreat I said "Yeah".

You cannot escape this FUCKER which ever way you try. Wigs, scarves, fucking brown paper bags... It always seems to catch up with you.

I'm not looking to start a new relationship. Far from it. But a cute guy flirting with you just makes you feel good. We all know this feeling.

Then suddenly I was the latest 'freak-show' and EVERYONE had questions. I don't do questions. They bore me. But oddly enough as word spread, a chap came up to me and showed me his scar and said that he was 6 years in recovery from stomach cancer. He was a cool and fun dude (and just quietly I hope my girlfriend is at home shagging him right now!!!) He also had a story to tell me.

He asked how my friends were handling this. He said other than family and friends that he had had for 20 years prior, he no longer had the friends that knew him pre-cancer. He said that people had dropped away and had not understood;

*The need to go out and get shitfaced occasionally without judgement
*Not realized that you get RADIOACTIVE crap pumped into your body weekly. A few wines don't hurt
*They had their own issues and could not cope, long term, with what he went through
*The hard boring slog that treatment is
*The fact that he was no longer the 'party child' that he had been before
*Everyone expected him to be sitting at home waiting for treatment to finish, and available to them when they had spare time
*With no hair, and the steroid weight gain, he looked like a chick

It kinda shocked me, because I have certainly felt all of these emotions to a varing degree. As I have ALWAYS maintained;

*I am still the obnoxious ratbag I was before this started
*I will beat this
*I will do the best I can
*With the steroid weight gain and no hair I look like a dude
*And most importantly, that this is a marathon, not a sprint. I have said this from day one.

I live with this crap 24/7. It NEVER leaves my mind. I have no choice. Some days I am sick, some days I am not. I cannot predict when or how this will manifest itself. I REALLY wish I could. I constantly feel like I am letting people down. I'm just doing the very best I can. For me.

Selfish existance? Hell yeah

By choice? Fuck no.

On the upside, for the first time in my life. EVER. I knew when it was time to leave the bar and catch a cab home. Alone.

So clearly some good has come from all of this ;-) And as of so far... No late night phone calls or texts. Jeeze...I MUST be growing up :-p

Sunday, November 7, 2010

The Vicar of Dibley

Dear Coach; After telling me on Friday afternoon that my dark wig made me look like the Vicar of Dibley, you have sealed your fate. I hope you enjoyed playing tickle with my rude parts in the past, as you SURE AS HELL aint going to get anywhere near them again. You tell me you prefer me as a blonde? TOUGH SHIT. I prefer you when I am drunk. Somehow I managed to keep that to myself while we were dating, you could have done the same...

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

This is too funny

I just got home from Chemo and thought in the cab all the way home "That was SO funny today, I'll write a little story about it". Now I am in front of the computer 5 minutes later and I have nooooooooooo idea what I was thinking. Nothing. Nada. Zip

Chemo-brain you make me laugh

Who Wants A Drink?

So...

I left Dr Luke's surgery and got in the car. I phoned Sister #1 and assured her I was fine and that it would all turn out to be a 'storm in a tea cup'. She said she would fly in the next day. I told her not to as I just wanted to digest it all, but she said she was coming anyway.

And I thought that was pretty nice.

By now I am stuck in 'football traffic' on Punt Road. On a Friday night. That is enough to make anyone cry.

So I did.

I threw myself a 'pity party' that lasted all of about a minute. I just couldn't be arsed with the dramatics of it all. I was scared that if I started, I would never stop.

Still am.

So I wiped the tears and did the call around looking for a drinking partner.

Now when one has had news such as this, I'm sure that there is a protocol that one should follow. Me? Just felt like a drink.

So I could have phoned a plethora of friends, but I didn't want to tell anyone (Sister #1 was sworn to secrecy as my plan was to deal with this and not tell anyone) But I had ran into a friend a few weeks earlier that I hadn't seen in ages, and for no particular reason other than I know he doesn't mind a refreshing beverage from time to time, I called him.

It was easy. He wouldn't ask any questions, and I wouldn't feel guilty later about not telling him what had happened at the Doctors half an hour earlier.

So I phoned Ham and asked what he was up to. He said he wasn't going out as he wanted a quiet night, but I could drop in for a quick drink on my way home if I wanted to. I told him I had had some bad news, but didn't want to talk about it.

I don't think either of us had ANY idea of how ridiculous that weekend was about to become. Actually, I KNOW neither of us had any idea how ridiculous that weekend was to become. And I have to say that that Friday night will probably stick out in my mind as one of the truly funniest nights of my life.

And there has been some bloody funny ones.

As I said, Ham doesn't mind a beverage, so one drink turned into two, into twenty seven, into one hundred and forty million. Chain smoking was invented as an Olympic sport and fights over the airconditioning was as dramatic as the night got.

At some point (possibly drink number seven) I, in my infinite wisdom, realised that there was a big chance that I would end up getting drunk enough to spill the beans on what was unravelling so I wrote it down on a piece of paper and shoved it in a drawer.

Why? I dunno. I was PISSED!!!!

It had already been revealed that Sister #1 was heading to town the next day. So he knew something was up, but as we had had a run of baaaaad luck in our family recently and he said later he thought that we had had another family member drop-off-the-perch. But he left it alone.

So at about 8am on the Saturday (there had been no sleep) I decided that NOW was the time to tell him.

Yup, get shitfaced and then tell one of the most emotional people you have ever met that you have a terminal disease.

Ladies and gentlemen, please stand and put your hands together as 'The Drama Llamas' are about to hit the stage!