Tag: fuck cancer

#32 The Christmas catch up edition

I woke up on the morning of my first wife’s seventh chemo session with her standing over me doing the ol’ Kathy Bates thing in Stephen King’s film, Misery. I kinda felt for James Caan in that moment.

I actually think she thought it was more of a Sleeping Beauty moment. You know, just before the prince kisses that sleeping sheila awake. I ain’t so sure though.

Anyway, it made me think back to when she recently bought me some flash new jandals but when I tried them on they were uncomfortable as fuck making me walk like a spastic. A very slow spastic.

Even a first wife with fully fledged bowel cancer and shit could catch me in them should I ever try to escape. But I ain’t going anywhere wife because if there’s one thing Croatian sheilas are good at, it’s their hunting prowess (and cooking, looking pretty and being a good little nagging first wives), so I wouldn’t like my chances.

Only partially got through scraping the window clean

Been over a month since I last blogged here and I’m seriously gunna have to work on my time management so these posts aren’t the watered down paraphrased versions like this one is… Especially when extreme hair loss, Christmas and New Years fall within that month.

But here goes…

To accommodate Christmas, our oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one, gave the first wife an extra week off chemo. He’s a good cunt like that but it wasn’t because it wasn’t needed. It was more to coincide with holidays so my cook wasn’t all fucked up for Christmas day.

That’s what first wives get when they ask first husbands to write their Christmas cards

Problem was though, the ol’ first wife’s blood test showed her immune system was lower than a league player’s interview skills, so chemo was postponed yet again making it a whole month between sessions. Sounds awesome, unless of course she needs the chemo… which she does.

Remember back to how she first identified this little cunty thing called cancer? She had swollen glands in her neck that have since shrunk. Not as much though as the oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one, would’ve liked.

Disclaimer: Marjana wanted me to remove the gnome comments but I couldn’t hear her so added this line to show her disproval. For the record though, I ain’t saying he’s not good. He’s awesome in fact… it’s just that he reminds me of a gnome. I like gnomes too though remember and I remind her of a bald spastic cunt so go figure.

On a positive though, her vertigo has finally fucked off thanks to some funky moves with some switched on vertigo physio sheila. That vertigo’s a real cunt of a thing man that really made this hill we’re climbing a lot steeper. The video at the end gives an insight into the effect it had on my first wife, even with only lying down or getting up.

Thinking her brain has been a bit spastic of late and yeah yeah yeah, I get that it’s probably from hanging with me too much but Marjana kept fucking up appointment times and dates, including one with our surgeon Peter. He’s a real good cunt though and I sorted a sneaky little work around with him without her knowing because some of my cook’s workmates had arranged a surprise Christmas party for her that ended up being the same time as she was supposed to be meeting Peter.

Surprise Christmas catch up from the first wife’s workmates

We had our surgeon meeting and then coincidentally bumped into a bunch of the first wife’s workmates for a great arvo. Being the wog that he is and not wanting to miss out on a party, even our local hero surgeon Peter came down for a meet and greet.

  • A bloody great little afternoon had by all
  • Sitting as though upon a King’s throne

We’ve had some good times of late including a very nice weekend at Mooloolaba with some good mates, Biggles and Lexi. We partied, drunk heaps of piss and ate heaps (well one of us did).

  • First swim for first wife since her op
  • Like sands through the hourglass, so are the winds through Dilan’s mullet
  • The Biggles

We hope y’all enjoyed Christmas as much as we did. Fuck, it seems so long ago now aye.

Initially we were home with just our devil spawn and this was mega important for the first wife because Christmas and family should never be taken for granted. We’ve never really taken it for granted and always appreciated the occasion but this year we weren’t even sure the ol’ girl was gunna have another one. So to say it was appreciated is somewhat of an understatement.

One happy first wife

We then headed to cuzzies Jason and Lisa where we… you guessed it; partied, drunk heaps of piss and ate heaps (well one of us did). Again appreciating the occasion, the company and an over abundance of shit that made me even fatter and even more of a spastic cunt.

  • A nice little suckling pig on the spit
  • Fuck it was yum
Facetiming cuzzie Kimberley in Germany

Come boxing day we still weren’t quite fat enough so thought fuck it, lets have another Christmas party with some other good cunts who just so happen to be our neighbours we partied, drunk heaps of piss and ate heaps (well one of us did).

Christmas Day continuations on Boxing Day

New years eve was more of the same with another couple of good mates Parso and his mrs from the land of kilts and funny sounding people.

Sorry if this blog has been a bit of a weird catch up one but the next one will be a little more up to date situationally on my first wife’s predicament.

Before that though I do need to acknowledge my boss Chris for nominating me for the 2019 – 2020 Redlands Police Officer of the Year award. He’s a good cunt himself whose going through some funky health shit of his own right now and could’ve actually won it himself if he was in fact nominated.

For those that don’t know, I actually won the award and it was an awesome moment. I wasn’t going to raise it here but have done ‘cos life as we’ve been reminded is about living and appreciating the fine things it has to offer between times that aint so fine. For me, winning that award was fantastic but seriously man, the highlight was that my first wife was there to witness it. That for me was a beautiful thing… even if it was during Movember and I looked like a spastic cunt with a revolting moustache.

Snapped when when my first wife wasn’t crying

Finally, a massive shout out to my other boss Darni who has had my back big time since I’ve been off work. Thank you heaps to you and the team who’ve been carrying me of late. Y’all a bunch of good cunts, I reckon.

And as mentioned above, here is that vertigo vid…

Vertigo physio and a dude called Harry

#31 The slave snuck off to his laptop

So I thought I was woken up this morning by someone pouring a bucket of water over my head, but instead of water it was my first wife’s spit. Apparently I made her laugh as she was in the process of kissing me and when I told her that her spit is yum as fuck, she snorted and spat snot or spit on me again. Fuck it’s good to be loved aye.

She’d actually woken me up earlier to be honest because although she (allegedly) let me sleep in she failed to mention the fine print that while I slept she was going to leave our bedroom door open and use as many of our loudest appliances as she could. If she could’ve moved the washing machine and dishwasher closer I’m sure she would’ve but it didn’t really matter anyway because during any real quiet periods she’d do things like drop a cricket bat on her foot and scream loudly in pain.

In case that hadn’t done the trick to wake me up she then came back to bed and sat next to me while I slept. She then did her good Catholic girl thing and prayed to her God who, until then I wasn’t aware was actually deaf because why else would a nice Catholic girl pray so loudly right next to me. I’m sure God knows sign language so kinda hoping the cook can pick it up too which may help with my sleep somewhat.

  • ‘You’re an idiot’, she reckons
  • ‘A funny idiot though’

But anyway, it ain’t about me so back to this recovering sick sheila blog update…

Apologies that it’s been over a month since I last updated y’all but as far as slaves go, I reckon I’m amongst the most rooted in the history of the world. Rooted from doing renos and shit; not rooted like slaves were back in the olden days.

While on the subject of slaves I would like to mention that as far as slave masters go my first wife would be classed as ‘Level Expert’ if ya go by how much work I’ve done.

I’ll gunna have to do a few catch up blogs but first up a positive to report. The ol’ girl had a CT scan a couple weeks ago that showed the cancer has shrunk somewhat so that gets a full on ‘Fuck yeah!’ from us.

Cancer’s a cunt, man and this has without doubt been the worst thing that’s happened to us as a family since she hunted and collected me way back in 1996. But she ain’t dead yet and neither am I, and nor are our kids or any of you reading this so here’s another ‘Fuck yeah!’. Not that she’s gunna die any time soon but when good people die that sucks big time (thinking of you right now Keiley).

As I write this, my first wife is sitting next to me pinging up her Chernobyl poison and giggling at some messages she’s reading from her friends.

Best chemo companion blanket the nurse sheilas have ever seen

I think for everyone’s sake though, I need to reiterate the fact that English is her second language and all the times she’s replied to messages saying she’s getting ‘bold’ she actually meant ‘bald’. All you mates of hers who read those ‘bold’ messages must’ve thought ‘Onya girl!’ when really it’s more of a plucked chicken meme.

Two of the main reasons I married this sheila way back when, is because she had really good hair and bloody good knees too. My head’s pretty fucked up with my shit hair and with seven arthroscopies to date, my knees were always my rugby nemesis. So if I was ever gunna breed it’d be good for my kids to have good hair (for pulling chicks) and good knees (for rugby) because they got plenty of spastic whether they liked it or not.

It’s lucky for Marjana she had heaps of hair to start with because she’s loosing it quicker than those sheilas from the Hibiscus Coast lose their virginity. It’s actually a little selfish in a way (not the Coasty sheilas giving up the virginity quick as – nah you keep that tradition well and truly going I reckon) because so many other good people fucked up on cancer lose their entire head of hair quick as fuck due to the chemo they’re on, where as my cook’s chemo is only supposed to thin the hair out. To the untrained eye, it may not even look like she’s lost any but you can certainly find bold, I mean bald patches if ya scratch the surface and her puffy eyes from crying add weight to it being fact. If she didn’t have a complex before I think I just gave her one when she reads this. Sorry wife 😉

  • The result after every shower
  • One first wife’s loss is one first husband’s gain

Untold has happened since I last wrote but our lives have pretty much gone like this…

I wake up and do renos and shit, and cook and eat and drink piss and crawl into bed at the end of the day like some beat up old cunt who can hardly walk; pretty much because that’s what I am anyway.

  • Remove old kitchen and still installing new one
  • Part of new kitchen with built in wall
  • Remove window and build in wall
  • Removed old kitchen window and install new one
  • Remove sliding door and install new window on deck
  • Remove sliding door and install new one
  • Remove old window and install new
  • Who doesn’t love a trooper wife still wiling to be squashed into a car full of timber
Might not look like much but these renos fucked me big time and still ain’t finished

The ol’ first wife though will get all these lovely visits from her work mate sheilas who actually seem to be really nice and care and shit. She used to tell me they were a bunch of pain in the ass cunts at work who were feral and lazy as fuck liars and… oh actually, maybe that was the prisoners, sorry.

Work mate sheilas who most definitely aren’t feral lazy liars but are very much appreciated

Seriously though man, my first wife’s had heaps of visits lately and she digs ’em almost as much as she digs seeing me work like I’ve never worked before (except for maybe back in my ol’ man-whore days).

Most days over the last month have gone like this…

I work like an old decrepit slave.

Marjana socialises like a princess on a social dating competition.

I work like an old decrepit slave.

Marjana socialises like a princess on a social dating competition.

I work like an old decrepit slave.

Marjana socialises like a princess on a social dating competition.

Etcetera…

Another lovely gift

Your quote of the day comes from a chemo session…

Oncologist: Sometimes I can make it sound a bit worse than what it is.

Me: Oh, like a wife does when a husband leaves his clothes on the floor.

Check out her chemo affected veins, man

How can ya not love a hot Argentinean rugby fan who’s tit half falls out when she cheers. Need more of it I reckon.

#30 A traitor and a life saver walked into a bar

I would like it noted please that although the latest All Black loss to the Wallabies at Suncorp was a direct result of my attendance, unlike when the French government sent secret agents to blow up Greenpeace’s Rainbow Warrior ship in Auckland, New Zealand, I did not have intent to carry out the act. It’s true, I do feel dirty and ashamed like a traitor found out but although there are similarities between that 1985 espionage attack I make full admissions from the outset, so there is no need for a fully fledged investigation to prove my guilt.

For what it’s worth New Zealand, I whole heartedly apologise for the role I played in that Bledisloe loss and for my actions bringing the All Blacks into disrepute by attending that test match and the subsequent result *bows head in shame.

With that admission of guilt out of the way, I can now touch on the fact that apart from the outcome, it was a fucking good night out with our family and some good mates.

Even though cunty cancer has changed our lives, it’s nice to still do normal shit together.

My first wife even did better than a couple of the players red carded because unlike them she survived the entire encounter, and then some.

It was a massive day with visitors coming earlier including a local good samaritan I know through work called Alix from Night Ninjas. She came around with a home cooked feed to share with us.

My first wife ain’t drinking piss yet but I’ve got her back and am supporting the both of us in that task. For the record, I’m going great guns at it too. Level expert, even.

Too much yellow for my liking but at least Team WInslow are all in black

With COVID-19 as it is, social distancing at bars has changed the scene massively. So instead of drinking piss before the game in a bar outside the stadium where we talk rugby in such close confinement like locks in a scrum, we had to and drink piss and talk rugby in such close confinement like locks in a scrum, inside the stadium.

One of those people we did that with though was a real good good cunt who’d starred in a number of these blogs earlier on. Reintroducing our favourite surgeon, Peter Yuide. He’s got a weird as fuck last name that’s pronounced like ‘eyed’ (as in one eyed Aussie ref) but with a ‘y’ in front… well kinda.

Can’t wait to show you my scar, Peter

He doesn’t tend to catch up for beers with all his victims, or patients as he prefers to call them but I think there’s something about us being a spastic cunts that he likes (or at least my spastic-ness). So fuck yeah; we’re keen as to drink piss together at Suncorp.

Creating topics for the next blog

It was especially nice for my first wife who got to show off her scar again. In front of 30,000 people she done her equivalent of a bikie rootbag responding to a ‘show us ya tits’ chant from a bunch of pissed cunts. Only differences being nobody was chanting it and it wasn’t her tits she pulled her top up to display but the now famous scar on her guts.

In her ever innocent manner though, she did look at me and ask ‘Can I show my wound to Peter? Can I?’. Fuck yeah, of course you can honey!

Peter did tell my first wife that both her and her scar are looking really well and that was before he started drinking piss, too.

Unlike us in the cheap seats though, Peter being a fully qualified surgeon was in a corporate box with some other big wig surgeons. For the couple of you who told me ya missing my quotes in these blogs, I’m bringing a couple back in this one.

Quote of the Day:

Me: Where you sitting mate?

Peter: Mater Hospital have a corporate box and I’m in there with some other doctors.

Me: Oh that’s nice. I think we’ve probably paid for the whole thing ourselves with the bills we’ve paid so far. You’re welcome.

Suncorp team minus the two boys

Marjana just had her fortnightly blood test done yesterday and as I write this we’re in the middle of Chernobyl Day as she’s getting her chemo fill.

She’ll be having another CT scan next week to see how her cunty cancer is reacting to the chemo.

Some visitors over the last week (sorry forgot to take some other visitor pics)

If I didn’t already know my first wife was half deaf I’d think the chemo had affected her hearing. The other day she was singing along to that new AC/DC song ‘Shot in the Dark’ and with that comes your next quote of the day…

Marjana (singing): I shot the dog…

Me: What?

Marjana: I shot the dog.

Me: What the fuck, man. No, it’s Shot in the Dark.

Marjana: I wondered why they wanted to shoot a dog.

Talking about animals, we had a massive storm about a week ago and both our cat and dog were scared as fuck. Bella hates thunder like I hate political correctness and we found out Pudding does too as she literally shit herself, the little cunt.

It was in our ensuite and for those who recall my cat whispering ways when she pissed on my clothes and are now reading to see if I did the equivalent and shat on my cat…

No, I did not shit on my cat.

She made the effort to shit on our mat and not on my clothes and I kinda appreciated the effort she went to. It’s the little things in life, aye.

Actually, Pudding is going to star in another story very shortly but going back to this one under The Cancer Chronicles topic, I imagine these posts appear less and less about the dealing with cancer in the first person than previously. For us, that’s actually a fucken good thing ya know… and believe me, it ain’t all rosey and perfect and shit like these posts portray.

But we have to be as positive as we can and try to live a bit normal even if my first wife’s husband isn’t.

I wonder who this cat shit belongs to?
Unlike other mates and cuzzies our hail was normal size

#29 Appreciating the good shit

Have had a bit of time to think lately and yes it still hurts like a motherfuck when I do that thinking thing.

It would be easy to take the view that our life is pretty fucked right now.  I don’t think many could really argue that too much, considering.

But fuck that shit, man! 

Since we started this cunty cancer journey heaps of positives have come out of it.

I love my first wife

Yeah, there’s plenty of negatives too; like my first wife having her guts ripped out, her beautiful thick hair thinning out and my guts doing the exact opposite, having to change to a way blander diet (ok, maybe not me and the boys so much but she has), dehydrating ourselves tear by tear by tear… I could go on but that’d be looking for the negatives.

In honour of all you Playschool loving kids out there today we aren’t looking through a square, round or even an arched window but a the thankful window. Gotta love those thankful windows, man.

Just like yesterday and every day prior so far, we didn’t wake up dead. That can have it’s own ‘yeehaa’.

I think this is our boy and not some Hindu dude in a temple

My first wife can be a raggety ol’ hag when she’s pissed off with me but she does have the most beautiful smile and already this morning she’s shared it with me heaps.  Not so much a couple days ago though ‘cos she was perfecting her annoyance skill.

We have also reconnected with heaps of people who we hadn’t seen for ages and we didn’t even have to die to do it.  Usually those ‘we should catch up more’ comments only really eventuate at funerals after some cunt died.

People have offered and provided so much to us as a family.  Some we have accepted, some we even accepted without even knowing we had done so until after the fact and some offers we haven’t taken up because seriously man, how the fuck do you respond to those ‘if you ever need anything let me know’ comments?  It’s kinda a hard one aye.  But to those people who still want to help us, just keep being good cunts.

Some pommy mates, yes even though they’re poms

This morning the ol’ girl was trying on heaps of old dresses that no longer fit because I’d turned into a fat cunt and she was building reserves for winter and neither of us were the skinny like worms people we used to be.  Who’d have thunk it, but all those years that her clothes had been stashed away in the hope that one day she might get bowel cancer and lose heaps of weight would finally pay off.

Because she now fits them, I don’t need to buy her new clothes.  It’s like going to the Op shop and picking clothes off the shelf for free that you already love because you already decided that when you bought them the first time around. Saves heaps of time and money and none of you sheilas even think about bringing up the ‘no longer in style’ argument because all styles (fuck even the 80s) come back into fashion. 

See what I mean about all these positives?

Since joining a bunch of online cancer groups we have again realised how lucky we actually are.  Cancer really is a cunt of a thing.  Hearing all these real life stories and experiences of how cancer has fucked good people over is so so so sad.  It certainly makes me very much appreciate that although my cook has stage four cancer, she ain’t half as fucked up as heaps of other people who have already lost loved ones or are way more fucked up and therefore have a cunt of a life as a result.

So here’s a big ass ‘FUCK YEAH’ for our situation being as good as it can be.

My steak, not yours Bella

Considering it’s Marjana’s good week she hasn’t really been the flashest to be honest and has felt a bit shit.  She still has that vertigo thing hanging around, doesn’t have heaps of energy and is a bit wonky on her feet.

Octopus salad, mashed potato and spinach with fried egg, lamb rack, my Dally style spuds and massive t-bones in two.separate rubs

But the All Blacks pulled off a bloody great effort against the Wallabies last Saturday and the Maroons came back and pipped those New South Wales Mexican bastards from south of the border in Origin One. 

Bledisloe and Origin days

The All Blacks (ABs) play the final Bledisloe Cup game at Suncorp tonight too.  Initially we weren’t gunna go ‘cos my first wife wasn’t up to it but she’s keen as so we’re off to watch that game with some good mates.

Just on that note, I seriously considered not going as a national service to my country because every single time I watch the ABs play at Suncorp they lose.  A few of my Aussie mates really want me to go for that reason alone.  Maybe I should get ’em to buy me tickets to all their test matches in the hope I am their nemesis 😉

But we have already won this year’s Bledisloe so I’m going anyway. The Wallabies will even be in with a chance tonight, not only because I’m going but also the fact the AB’s grabbed some Under 11s primary school kids to replace some of the senior All Blacks. It kinda evens it up so if the coaching staff are willing to take a chance, then so am I.

Things may change for us and all my posts won’t be this positive but for now, this beer followed by this Jagermeister is for appreciating the good things in life.

How ya going with ya chemo?

#28 Best gift so far

I just asked my first wife what happened this week that I can write about and one of the first things she said was ‘I nagged more’. Fuck, I ain’t arguing with that but was hoping she’d tell me something I didn’t know.

Love this pic

Although we aren’t out socialising as often as we were, we’re still very much social due to people visiting and it really is nice for my cleaner to have people showing they care in person.

One couple of Marjana’s work mates came yesterday and brought the best fucking gift we’ve received yet. It’s a mean as blanket imported from England with a collage of some spastic cunt all over it. As if my cook doesn’t get enough of the spastic dude already 😉

Fuck yeah

I wasn’t even home to meet them or receive the gift ‘cos my first wife was pimping me out to one of her other work mates that needed some help cutting fallen trees after a storm ripped through their farm.

All this pimping out made me feel like I was back in my man-whoring days.

Coming home drained, covered in sweat, dirt, sawdust, cuts and scratches like a UFC fighter, there were more man-whore similarities than just being pimped out, I tell ya.

These poor fellas farm got smashed in the latest storm

Those sheilas from my first wife’s work bat for the other team and to be honest I can’t blame ’em ‘cos if I was a chick that’s how I’d roll too, but suffice to say, when I came home my first wife was still my first wife (well technically, she can’t ever not be I suppose) and hadn’t run off to join The Dark Side. It’s the small things in life, aye.

Workmates came to hang with the first wife

The Mrs was happy to also see Finland Tina who’s almost as spastic as I am. We know her from our Gold Coast days and she works at Pindara Oncology. She’s actually also quite brainy with this cancer shit so nice for them to have a catch up.

Chernobyl day was Wednesday and even with her vertigo hanging around like Bella trying to scavenge a feed, it went well.

Chemo is sooo much fun

We just came back from the cancer care clinic to get Marjana’s hipflask style bottle of chemo removed which is always a relief. I don’t feel real good when she has that attached and I ain’t even the one it’s attached to so imagine how she feels.

Will be interesting to see how the ol’ girl goes this weekend because last time she was kinda fucked up, so here’s to hoping aye.

Random photo of a brazier Dilan made at school. Got an A.

My mate Chris (and boss) had an operation yesterday on his own personal cancer battle so thinking of him too. He’s a good cunt, man and the world needs more good cunts and less shit cunts.

On Tuesday some sheilas from my work came out and had lunch with us; meaning my first wife, Chris and I and it was nice to catch up with them all as I haven’t been at work since our world fell over. Thanking y’all for having my back, man.

Bree is cupcake baker extraordinair

Also on Tuesday, Dilan had his semi formal and took some young sheila along as his date. He probably had the spunkiest looking chick to be honest. Even the first wife complimented him on how hot his date was so they should be proud if they get a tick of approval from her.

Semi formal night

When we were picking him up I asked the first wife why all the young chicks nowadays look spunky as fuck but when I was young like him they were all ugly as fuck (except for you sheilas from my younger days who are reading this… actually, nah just call it how it is I reckon) 😉

I cooked but Mrs takes credit for recipe

Finally, here’s to all the other cancer fighters out there because there’s fucking heaps of the poor cunts. It’s no surprise to me but life ain’t fair.

Practising for nagging