My godsons and their hot mama came to stay.
Oh how I love them.
But I was a frivolous hostess due to the fact that I believe my brain is missing in (mental) action.
Every day I tried to play and every day I failed miserably.
It feels like the sun’s shining around me but there’s a grey cloud directly overhead filled with dread and lethargy.
I’m so fucking tired all the fucking time. Brain tumour fatigue really fecking sucks.
So here’s an ambiguous question for anyone reading this?
What’s your wildest craziest fantasy right now?
Mine… A two week induced coma.
Then when I wake up that goddamn life-sucking cloud will have dissipated.
I don’t expect anyone who hasn’t had a brain injury to understand, because before Bambi I wouldn’t have remotely comprehended any kind of fatigue that couldn’t be cured with a double espresso and a family size Lindt.
I’ve spent the last week mostly horizontal. And when I do occasionally stand up it’s startling what tumbles from my person. Pens, nuts, water bottles, banana skins, remotes, hidden dog chews.
No one told me this was such an obnoxious enfeebling side effect of brain cancer.
‘And what’s the cause?’ I enquired to my Neuro this week. ‘Is it the gargantuan butt-plug sized pills you’ve got me on?’
Perhaps the universe is punishing me… But I don’t remember doing anything so terrible.
Maybe I was an evil mother-fucking cunt in a previous life and it’s payback time now.
Even my dreams are fucked up. Yesterday I dreamt I bought a new sweater and it ran away from me. So I went back to the shop and asked for a refund but the assistant said ‘Madam, the sweater would only have ran away if you don’t deserve to have it.’
Whatever, I might be Moaning Muggle Mrytle today but I’m truly sanguine at heart and tomorrow’s a brand new day.
All this extraneous shit crap bollocks will be replaced with splendid news, a stunningly sunny disposition and a large pocketful of rainbows.
Fuck cancer and its hellacious side effects.