‘Vaffanculo Bambi!’ My Italian friend taught me this word in 1977.

So the Gods spoke to me!  Well actually they didn’t..  It was a call from the insurance company.

I got the green light to start radiotherapy and I’m scared.  But Up and Atom!  Ahaha. 

So I made a snap decision as to which fuckety fuck fork path to take.

I then hopped a 5-bar-gate and skipped straight through the field that ran down the middle of both paths. 

I might be trespassing but this field seems like the most direct route out of here.

Radiotherapy combined with less aggressive alternatives, ketogenic diet and a handful of supplements for now.

And we’ll cross the chemo bridge of mass destruction in a few weeks time.

I’ve had to weigh up the pros and cons of course.

Radio Pros.. Should kill off Bambi’s baggage and cause appetite loss (goodbye middle age spread). 

Keto Pros..  Goodbye middle age spread.  

Radio Cons.. Possible permanent hair loss.  But one less thing to fuck with in the mornings.

Keto Cons..  Lots of faffing around.

The BIGGEST pro right now though.. I’ve been approved for Proton Beam Therapy. 

Some of you might think  ‘What the fuck’s that?’   That’s what I’d have thought a few weeks ago.

If I’m describing it in car terms (and this is my theory based on extensive googling) Proton is like the Bugatti Super Sport, whereas the other option, Photon, is more like your every day tried and tested, generally reliable family sedan. 

Even though I’ll be wearing my Catwoman mask I feel anxious thinking about the laser beam penetrating my brain. 

I’m also not particularly keen to lose my hair to be honest.  But luckily it’s not turtleneck season so I won’t look like a giant tallywacker.

But what are my hairless head options?

Daenerys Targaryen wig, Hermes silk scarves, beanies, hoodies, paper bags – only ones from Sloane/Bond Street of course. 

Human hair wigs give me the creeps. It would feel like wearing someone else’s knickers.

And will I look more radiant as each radiation day passes? 

I doubt it.. I’m probably going to look like a burnt slice of toast.  That will get the buzzards circling.

Agh why are there no really good side effects to medical treatments or medicine bottles.. Why don’t any of them say WARNING: May cause extreme sexiness.

So the best I can do right now is surround myself with love and fuck cancer!

Luckily the Cheshire Kitty Cat is arriving first-class on a jet plane next week and she’ll be here to purr at me for the first week of radio. 

The Chesire Kitty Cat and Me – 2 years ago today
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‘There is a place, like no place on Earth. A land full of wonder, mystery and danger! Some say, to survive it, you need to be as mad as a hatter. Which, luckily, I am.’ Alice in Wonderland.

I fell down a rabbit hole, banged my head pretty hard and found myself in a whole new world. 

But I’m not Alice and this definitely isn’t Wonderland. 

I’m me and the person I was 4 months ago is not who I am today.  Although do I still look for the humour in everything? Abso-fucking-lutely!

One of M’s lovely friend’s asked him  ‘How the fuck can your wife have brain cancer and still be funny?’ 

Well isn’t everything funny if you can laugh at it?

I’m surrounded by lotions and potions and murky green cocktails which all say ‘Drink me goddamit!’

My reality has changed forever and there will be no going back to yesterday or how I was before Bambi arrived on the scene. 

I’m still me but I’m a slightly different version of me.  I haven’t gone crazy, my perspective on things has just changed.  

And I’m sensitive, seriously, to everything:

Sound, light, alcohol (fucks sake), information, judgment, slap and tickle, negativity, CAFFEINE big time, sugar, blar blar blar.. 

And I’ve come to a fork in the road because even though I’ve been led to believe that 6 weeks of radiotherapy, followed by 12 months of chemotherapy are my best chance there is another option.. 

I could take the holistic route. I could stay away from sugar (because it feeds cancer), turn my back on cakes and bread (because wheat and grains have an inflammatory influence on the human body).  

I could take a billion supplements, oxygen therapy, consume every derivative of cannabis and eat those fried sea cucumbers.  I could also wrap my head in tin foil. 

Some people might think I’m bonkers because they see clearly which road I should be taking. 

But when you’re stuck in the woods you can’t always see a clear way out.  

I have to make that decision yesterday because it’s now or never. 

Am I going to be a scaredy kitty Catwoman, as lost as Alice or as mad as the Hatter!  

But as the Mad Hatter said himself  ‘The best people usually are.’

Ultimately recovery doesn’t just happen it takes a plan and a support system surrounded by love. I’m so blessed to have the latter, but now I just need to find my way out of the woods and formulate the former. 

And so the next chapter can begin.. Of which I’m more terrified than the last. But chin up, tits out and onwards.