I speak 4 languages: English, Profanity, Sarcasm and Shit.

I’m in a gang.  I’ve never been in a gang before. Well actually that’s not entirely true.  

When I was 9 my friends and I bullied a kid who was being mean to us…  We flicked horse shit on sticks at him until he retreated…  I feel bad about that now… Kind of.

There’s four of us in this gang and we all have something in common. We’re badass brain tumour survivors.

Names have been changed to protect the identities of these goddesses. So hence forth we are referred to as:  Aphrodite, Venus, Inanna and Aurora.

If you don’t know the meaning of these names you were obvs snogging/smoking in the bike sheds during mythology lessons at school. (I was anyway).

Our gang’s named The Love Honeys… Appropriate as we’re fucking cancer and Lovehoney is an online sex shop.

To know there are other people out there who feel exactly the same way as you is mind glowingly reassuring.

They help you realise that you haven’t actually lost the goddamn plot…  Your brain’s just been temporarily fucked because a mother-fucking-platinum-plated cunt has invaded your private headspace.

And in other news…

The Cheshire Kitty Cat has been here taking care of me. And what a fabulous little ball of energy she is.

She cooks, she cleans, she takes the dog on 5-mile runs along the beach… And all before I’ve even got out of bed.

She chauffeurs me around…  Even though this is her first time ever driving on the wrong side.

She’s befriended the neighbours by popping in with bottles of English gin and then staying for a few hours to help them polish it off.

She’s chummy with my radiology team to the point where they’ve offered to give her a tour of the 60 ft monster living 4 floors below ground at the proton centre.

She even mixes me cocktails before supper every evening. Last night was a questionable combo of laxative and sparkling wine. The results were rip-roaringly spine chilling.

Kitty keeps telling me that ‘Friends are like fish, they smell after three days.’ She’s been here a week…  I keep whiffing her fanny but it smells fine to me.

Sadly she must leave me tonight and like all my other beautiful besties who’ve been taking care of me I will miss her terribly.

Sad to say that my ‘house of ill repute’ might have to close its doors for a few weeks now due to the dreaded potential side effects of radio.

But as long as it doesn’t make me grow another head… Or a penis… I will fight it like a girl!

what’s he looking at…
Advertisements

LOVE IS THE ANSWER..

C U Next Tuesday Bambi! Well technically it’s C U tomorrow but that doesn’t spell out the four-letter word I want to scream from the rooftops right now.

So the other day I heard someone say that laughter is the best medicine.

This is bollocks because if you have a brain tumour then a craniotomy is definitely going to be more effective.

Hence I’m heading to the hospital at some ungodly hour tomorrow to start the process of Bambi’s eviction.  

And Bambi honey.. You better not underestimate me because I can go from being a cute little kitty to a fire breathing dragon in the blink of an eye.

And I won’t be taking this lying down.. Well actually I will, but that’s not the point!

Firstly they’ll determine exactly where Bambi’s lurking with a very hi-tech-brain-scan-mapping thingy. 

After that I’ll put on the ludicrous gown (+Tuesday knickers) and be wheeled to theatre where they’ll knock me out (I enjoy this bit).  

Then Dr. Tall Dark & Handsome will perform the eviction. Bambi will be deported to the path lab where they’ll determine whether or not she’s a benign bitch or a cancerous c**t.

Then we’ll have a quick MRI to double check she hasn’t left any baggage behind.  After which I’ll be dispatched to ICU.

This I’m not relishing.. I dislike sharing a room at the best of times.  I can just cope with M and the dog so the thought of sharing with strangers really doesn’t appeal. 

However, when I’m able to pee without assistance they’ll transfer me to my room where I can examine my stapled head in private.. Shame it’s not Halloween.. They’d be a great accessory.  

I have to go now and pack my fabulous new MZ Wallace bag.. If you don’t have one then you must get one. Not even a brain tumour can control my desire for designer swag.

So I’ll see you on the other side when this goddamn mother-fucking bitch is out of my head. 

P.S. Thank you so much for the beautiful, kind and thoughtful messages.  I truly believe that LOVE IS THE ANSWER to everything and I’m so lucky to be feeling it right now.  I’d just like to share this one little message from my oldest friend.. I know it took her ages to write it because she can’t spell 😉

“Touching the cloth is an understatement, my thoughts have been consumed everyday since you told me they were doing tests and when you mentioned the bitter smell, I just knew. 
You have been my bestie since we were 9 years old (I’m the younger one I want to add) and consider you my sister. Well you came for tea wearing a silk scarf with a toggle round it (what the fuck was that about) but now I see the class and grace that surrounds you. 
We have laughed, cried stole each other’s boyfriends, made homemade clothes from sheets, got drunk and ended up in some very strange situations (but we won’t talk about them) but we have been like this for 42 years and I love you to the ends of the earth. 
So I would just like to say I’m quite shocked at the choice of knickers for your hospital stay, my thought swayed to pvc crouch-less knickers to complement your revealing hospital gown so at least the staff would remember you even if you don’t remember them. 
From the bottom of my heart I will be thinking of you every second you are under the knife willing Bambi the squatter to be banished. 
My darling Sarah I will see you on the bright side of this nightmare. The bright side of life (life of Brian).
Love you to the moon and back.” 

Not only is my short term memory fucked but so is my short term memory.

They told me this could be a side effect of brain surgery.

Some memories I might not mind forgetting, like the time my girlfriend held my hair back while I expunged the contents of my stomach in a gutter on the Old Brompton Road.. Or the time my baby did a huge shit in a posh hotel swimming pool in Barbados and I had to scoop it out before anyone noticed..

But I really don’t want to forget any of the people I’ve met along the way. Not even the bad ones. Because how will I know they’re dickheads the next time I see them.

Mostly I don’t want to forget my good friends.. And hopefully I won’t because they aren’t ‘short term’. I’m so lucky to be blessed with the most incredible bunch of beautiful besties and I can’t believe for a second that I could ever forget any of their gorgeous faces.

Though maybe if I do lose my short term memory I’ll gain something new.

I read about a woman who woke up from a coma and could speak Mandarin. I don’t think I’d find that very handy.

But what if I woke up and could sing like Lady Gaga.. Maybe I’d forget about Brad and shift my attention to Bradley!

Incidentally, a couple of friends have asked if I’ve decided on hospital underwear, yes I have.. I’m going for ‘days of the week’ knickers.. so if I do forget everything else at least I’ll know which day it is.