I got cancer. I’m fine, thanks.
You’ll see a bunch of posts about how it happened and what that nasty man with the knife did to me. I’ve back-dated them all, because I really wanted to blog about it at the time, but, well, didn’t.
Partially this is because I dropped my phone and broke the screen, and it made it really hard to set up a blog.
Partially this is because I spent a lot of my time off my tits on morphine.
But I wanted to spill my (remaining) guts about it. I hope somebody out there living (or dying) with cancer will read it and find a bit of comfort. But probably not, because I’m not especially comforting. There are horror stories about cancer. There are inspiring stories. But mine is mainly random shite and some jokes. That’s how I felt.
ApparentlyI didn’t appear to be scared at the time. I may have been, at 3am, when I was alone with my thoughts. But when the sun came up the worries went away, and I wasn’t anywhere near as frightened and shocked as she was. I was just lying in bed thinking up ways to annoy the nurses.
Those 6-or-so weeks in hospital were a blur of activity, at least during the days. Nights were very dull, and very long. I suspect I mentally planned this blog then, but it took about 10 months to get around to actually writing it. Don’t get your hopes up, it’s definitely not worth the wait.