Good evening pancake-weary pals! Did you actually have them?
Yesterday, in plenty of time to respond and indeed COOK, I quizzed the carer regarding pancake day.
Me: ‘Shall I make some lovey?’
Him: ‘NO!’ (Overly harsh reaction, thought I.)
Me: ‘Why not?’
Him: ‘I’m going to running club at 7. Be back at 9ish.’
Running bloody club?? Wtf is that – and, when did you want to start running of an evening, in the pouring rain, all the while neglecting your duties to your ailing (bahaha) wife just as she’s settling into bed for the new Marcus Wareing DAILY programme about him and his (gorgeous face, body, legs, scent 💭) new smallholding and kitchen garden?? Unbelievable- they say there’s a care crisis in the UK – I totally get that now.
Later on, the bed was all sweaty, no hands to be seen above the duvet- AND IN COMES FORREST!! How selfish that carer of mine can be. On his head be it – at least I got to see an enormous bunch of parsley, a pair of plump purple beetroot and a fairly substantial parsnip amid the lot. Who’s the loser now, eh, Forrest?? You keep going to your spotty, sweaty, geeky running club. Go any day – I’ve recorded the series 😂😂😂😂 Happy bloody days!!
I’m sorry we haven’t spoken for a while. It’s not you – it’s me. No, it really is. Let me try to explain.
It’s a bit weird with the old treatment. Chemo (NB: not all chemo; just the regime I was on, for my lung cancer – and as you know, not all chemo for each cancer is the same.) For me, with lung cancer, was totally different to the chemo I had 4 years ago for breast cancer – by which I mean, the side effects, the whole process. Also, what non-cancoids tend to assume is that all treatments are the same, depending on the cancer you have.
I’m as adamant as the carer with his pancake denial as I have been in previous posts on this matter. I can’t be arsed to do the link thingy now – but if you’re following this back to WordPress, go and see my posts from – can I believe it- five years ago. My Canciversary (the time I was operated on for my first primary (breast) cancer is five years this week!! Ok, ok, I’ve got half a left tit and a scraping of right lung left now, but who cares? Not me, and that is for absolute certain.
Anyway! I was digressing.
I’ve had a funny old experience since finishing radio almost three weeks ago.
On my last day, the 30th of the daily sessions, they got me to ring the bell and say hurrah.
However, I couldn’t concentrate – the printed message next to the bell was so poorly written- no punctuation, terrible attempted rhyming – I think it’s why I got emosh in the filmy bit ! Soooo annoying 👹
So, what now?
Side effects, of course. With my cancer and therefore, my radiotherapy treatment, (again: please note – none of these treatments are standard, off the shelf: they are bespoke to YOU) you end up not being able to swallow (every cloud!); my back looks like a piece of burnt toast (fine: but not much good without an inch of Lurpak on top (eh Julie??!); I’m knackered all the time; and possibly more breathless than after an episode of Marcus and his lovely (lady – pnaarr) garden.
So what?
All of this will pass. And if it comes back, which of course we know it will, it will pass again.
I signed up for the Macmillan Plank Challenge. The aim is to find the biggest plank in the UK. Naturally my gorgeous friend smiley T thought I’d win it hands down. As it turned out, you’re meant to do a plank every day in March.
I’m not collecting for this – I’m doing it because after I’ve gone off Marcus (pah!) the old man might forgive my jelly belly. I have changed my will since I started becoming obsessed with having cancer, so the funds are covered. (Note to self: must tell carer.) you were meant to set up a Facebook page for it all, but to be honest, all the nastiness on the site started weeks ago so I disassociated myself – it was so saddening. Mind you, I got a T-shirt today! eBay here I come 🙄
When you have the C word, every bugger comes after you for sponsorship money, all for worthy causes, because they know you have cancer and they think you’d like to donate.
I wish sometimes people would step back, and think.
Do these people think we have bottomless bank accounts? Have you considered that we might already be contributing to the charities which mean the most to us? Who have helped us the most?
Oh my gosh – tiny rant – sorry, but not sorry.
I’ve had an amazing experience the last 24 hours (Marcus! Back in our bed, you naughty boy!!)
I (by total chance) connected with a lovely, hilarious friend from sixth form (look it up, kids) – so that’s around about 30 plus years ago. Turns out this person is just as funny, brainy and caring as they ever were. NO! Never a Marcus situation; just a beautiful friend.
So ! This is for you, MP – and for all of us who never had a pancake.
Must go: I’m Wareing thin 😬🙄🙄😍😷
Sent from my iPad
Who's going to get the chicken? 