#46 Hearing facts sometimes sucks

To put it simply, yesterday was a cunt of a day.

We met with our surgeon Peter who made both me and the first wife cry.

He’s quite a brainy dude actually. Thinkin’ he picked up that I may have been lying when I said I’m still just sad about Saturday’s All Black loss to the Springboks. Full credit to the Boks and congrats heaps for your deserved victory.

• 

• 

A couple of key points taken out of our conversation were…

‘Marjana, your specific cancer is a very very nasty one and you will not win this battle. This cancer is going to kill you.

The kicker though was…

‘I can’t tell you how long you will live but I can tell you this will be your last Christmas.’

Like you reading this right now, those are powerful words that hit home with a fucking bang saying ‘cop that ya cunts’. Well that’s what it felt like for me.

Arguably, one of the worst parts of the day was Marjana putting on her nice undies for Peter and he never even gave her the chance to jump up on the bed and show him. They are Nana undies but apparently they’re quite flash ones because they’re still new.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, an operation is an option but have now heard it’s not actually a very good option, at least in the interim. Firstly, her Chernobyl poison contains Avastin which slows down blood vessel growth and is great for stemming cancer growth but it also prevents healing which she’d need after another serious operation. It’s the difference between a week in hospital or potentially months in a hospital bed. So it’s not even really an available option for another six to eight weeks anyway.

Peter also said that everything he’s done so far has been to make to improve Marjana’s life and if he were to operate, there’s a very good chance I would make her life worse, rather than better.

There is also consideration for quality of life versus quantity of life.

Without even going into post op details like definitely needing a permanent stoma bag, the main issue is the cunt of a tumour and where it is inside her bowel.

So we left Peter’s office and made it back to our car feeling (uncomfortably) numb with faces as wet as a fish’s. Had some cuddles and painful howls and I said ‘Fuck you Marjana’, and she then apologised for making me sad. Gunna need a little more than a verbal apology wife.

A little advice for anyone going to see Peter for bad news… bring your own soft tissues because I think he has 80 grit sandpaper camouflaged in his tissue boxes.

Popped over to see our oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one.

He gave my first wife the rest of the week off chemo and will be back into it on Wednesday but with a different potion of poison.

Y’all know I take the piss out of him a little with his name but he’s actually a good little cunt and no doubt rich as fuck but good on him because the power he wields with his knowledge is without doubt life changing.

His tissues I think are 120 grit so softer that Peter’s but not as soft as a few of the All Blacks unfortunately were in last Saturday’s test match. I did sent Peter a text saying the Gnome’s tissues are way softer than his though and in his defence he did say he couldn’t compete with that.

Although the ol’ girl didn’t have her Chernobyl session they still wanted a blood sample so we popped over looking like a couple of real sad depressed cunts.

Marjana had her purse on the chair next to her and I moved it so I could sit down but fuck did I jump or what. Yeah, I moved her purse alright but didn’t see her 600ml bottle of water and when I sat down on it I pretty much took a full on length, or at least a good 400ml worth of and was even with my shorts on. Oh man, it was an extremely accurate entry and I can tell you from experience that those bottles have quite a large girth. But this made my poor little cancer suffering first wife laugh her head off and the tears that then flowed from her were tears of laughter and not pain. Not mine though. My tears were very much pain induced. In fact, those few seconds almost reminded me of my man-whore days back in San Francisco.

We’d had our inner circle mates down for a couple of days and the poor bastards decided to stay another night so they could be sad and shit with us. Sick puppies or what. Nah, cheers Biggles and Lexi for hanging around and making me drink piss with y’all.

We took a little visit to our local dog beach and spent the day and night telling family back in Croatia and New Zealand of our shitty status update. Every single conversation involved tears so rather than keep doing the same, I’m flicking this blog out to anyone who wants to read it.

• 

• 

Our hearts ripped apart when we told both our boys though. Hadn’t had a Winslow family hug for a while so about due for one anyway, I guess. For those that know them, please check in on them.

Just as I got to this part of the blog, Marjana received a call to book in for an appointment today with some radiation doctor fella. Here I was thinking they were phoning to check on my welfare after I took a length of that large girthed water bottle but nup, it’s all about the Mrs apparently.

Basically though, this is still an ongoing changing situation and we still have options available including the key one of not giving up and continuing to fight like a hard core streetfighter fighting for their life, because that’s exactly what’s happening here.

Also very aware that others have lived longer than times given so there’s comfort in that as there is in Marjana’s faith.

We ain’t the first people to be fucked over by COVID but it sure would be nice for Marjana to fly back to Croatia for a family visit or even have our New Zealand family be able to pop over but fuck you COVID and yeah, fuck you too cancer. You are a cunt.

These very real conversations make ya think about shitty things like sorting funerals, gravestones and even financial situations so if any of y’all have tips, wisdom or experience with these then let us know please.

Any and all are welcome to message Marjana.

A sneaky little quote of the day…

Peter the surgeon: With bowel cancer sometimes there can be so much blood in your stool you’d think you were attacked by a shark.

This vid may just bring a smile to your face. It did ours.