In my head…

I start blog posts all the time (in my head), I think oooooh I should write that down but sadly I am too bloody lazy!

I think of a million things that I could do before I sit down with the laptop. I am a realist so this isn’t a promise to write more just an acknowledgement that I should.

But right now Im here typing so lets see where we go.

Im sitting in bed with Effy (who by the way is moaning because she wants to play a game on my phone but doesn’t get how to play it so she makes me do it then moans even more because I am touching my own phone, vicious cycle) I have the fan on full even tho it isn’t warm and Im freezing but the moment I turn it off I set on fire, like every inch of my skin is burning. This is menopause on steroids as every medication I have to take has Hot flushes (ridiculous name, I prefer burning flesh of doom) as its side effect. But I tell myself its a small price to pay.

My only problem is all these little prices I am paying really are starting to add up. Like a trip to Primark, you see something and its £2 and your like omg £2 so you pick something else up, why wouldn’t you! It’s £2!! You get to till all proud of your self for being such a bargain hunter and you can’t wait to show your next doors neighbours cousins bestfriend the hilarious t-shirt you got her because it was £2 but then the harsh reality hits when the cashier says that’ll be £112 please. FUCK!

That is pretty much my life. I get slapped with £112 on the daily. Sometimes more then once. But I’m alive.

Did you know there was difference in being alive and being alive? That is not a typo. Being alive BC (before cancer not christ) being alive was awesome, life was an unwritten book. You live like everyday could be your last because you could be hit by a bus tomorrow. I am a big fan of that bus. I wish I could live like that bus might hit me. Not in a suicidal way. Metaphorically speaking. Its a good way to live. Like I said big fan of the bus.

Being alive after BC and being stage 4 (not curable) my bloody book has its ending and it doesn’t involve a fucking bus! It involves years (hopefully) of toxic poisons keeping the cancer from spreading anymore. My book is a black comedy of pain fear and more pain.

So you see all the while a metaphorical bus could make you meet your maker your ending isn’t written you are free to be a little reckless because you could get hit by a bus tomorrow.

Imagine the irony is a fucking bus kills me and not cancer!


2 thoughts on “In my head…

  1. Oh hon! As much as I love reading your blogs i hate that you have to write them. But you should write them I’m sure they must help others and also help us around you know what’s a going on in your grey matter. As much as we think we understand we never can truly know. Lots of love xxx


  2. I’m so sorry you are going through this awful time. Where there is life there is hope. I hope the very best for you xx

    Tina – non Hodgkin lymphoma. Diagnosed July 2018


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