The following is a true story.
Dilan: Can I get a bird, Dad?
Me: Nup.
Dilan: But they are sooo cute, Dad.
Me: I dont give a shit.
Dilan: Pleeeaaase, Dad.
Me: No man. Shut up and leave me alone.
Repeat x 10.
Go to work.
Dilan: Can I get a bird, Mum?
Marjana: Ok.
Come home from work.
Now own bird called Guava.
I think me and the first wife been having a war of words of late.
She’s told me I’ve turned into a fat cunt a few times and I’ve told her that her ass has got fat. Flat but fat. When she reads this I’m gunna claim a typo between flat and fat by the way… nah fuck it, keep it real and call it how it is, I reckon.
On a positive though, I’m still alive.
Couple of other positives are my first wife now checks her curvy bits out in the mirror with more precision and the fact she ain’t exactly a skinny little bitch is actually a good thing.
Not that I don’t love skinny sheilas ‘cos I do… well not like concentration camp skinny or muscle man sheila skinny ‘cos that shit’s fucked up and yeah I’m a spastic cunt but not mental spastic (um, well actually..).
But anyway, during those early cancer days when she was all fucked up following surgery, my cook lost so much weight she looked sick as fuck. Not ‘sick as fuck’ as in teenager talk for ‘cool’ but you know, sick as fuck like maybe she had bowel cancer type sick.
So now that she’s built up a few extra kilos as a buffer she’s good to go and even started exercising again, as have I.
With our two bald heads, we’ve been roaming the mean streets of Cleveland together like a couple of skinhead gang members. Even take our own ravaging dog for good measure. Our dog’s called Bella and she is of course black as fuck, ‘cos although we may look like scouts from Trump’s Proud Boys we also want to show we’re inclusive ‘cos our black dog’s life matters. For anyone wondering, our cunt of a cat is only partly black.
Some of you would’ve seen that we had our 23rd wedding anniversary a few days ago where the first wife wrote heaps of soppy shit and I did my equivalent by taking the piss out of it.
But in all honesty, a few months ago we weren’t even sure we’d get to celebrate another wedding anniversary together so fuck yeah! Although she pisses me off heaps… quite a few heaps actually, I’m happy to have reached this little milestone together with her and counting a couple years warm up, it’s actually 25 very loooong years together. Longer than she’s been alive, I might add.
So I took the ol’ girl out for a flash as feed at the most expensive restaurant in the whole wide world. Drove into the city not even sure where we were going to eat but ended up at La Vue and thank fuck you cunts donated to that GoFund me page because it cost me nearly every single cent of it to feed the hungry little hippopotamus and her growing bum. It was an awesome feed, ambience, service, food presentation and company so well worth it by the way. Although we ate heaps and each came out about 10kg heavier it was still way easier to walk home as I’d lost more than that weight in my wallet.
Just on that GoFundMe page at https://gofund.me/0e62aea0, we were going through it again yesterday looking at the comments and who had donated and everyone that donated to it or in person are still very much considered real good cunts and appreciated.
Wednesday just gone was supposed to be Chernobyl day but for the second time now our oncologist; you know the one I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one, postponed it because my first wife’s blood test showed her immune system was down. Apparently it needs to be over a magical number of 100 and hers was like 85 or something. I reckon it might even have something to do with all the energy she’s putting into growing her bum.
Not only did my dishwasher sheila have her fortnightly blood test this week but she also had another CT scan to see the current extent of her cunty cancer.
For those that don’t know, people fucked up on cancer get scans all the time including CT or PET scans and probably even other ones too. So far, Marjana has only had CT scans which still require some funky shit to be injected into her veins to show things clearer. She hasn’t as yet had a PET scan which they do if the CT scans don’t show shit properly… I think?
Because my clothes folder had issues with vertigo they also checked her brain in the scan.
So the outcome of the scan probably deserves to be started with a quote I reckon…
Me: Did the scan on her head show an increase in nagging?
Oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one: Nah, that’s her baseline.
But it looks like the cancer hasn’t grown.
It also looks like it hasn’t exactly shrunk either which is a little bit of a cunt actually.
Our oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one, said that although the size of the tumours are pretty much the same there’s a chance that some of the mass that’s showing may actually be scar tissue that hasn’t broken down and dissolved back into her body.
Well here’s to hoping because after all these Chernobyl sessions, spewing her guts up, flaming ass diarrhea (not linked to the fat bum syndrome apparently), nausea and even nagging it would’ve been good to get news that the cunty cancer had done the equivalent of a grown man’s cock in freezing water and shrunk to that of a infant boy’s size shlong and concaved somewhat, but nup.
Our oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one, said he was going to tweak her chemo concoction because it’s fucking her up a bit more than it probably should’ve. He obviously hasn’t seen her when she’s pissed off.
He said some brainy doctor words about taking out this and that in her chemo and I asked him if he could write down exactly what he was saying. But I also asked if he could write it in human writing so I could read it. In his defence though, he did try and that’s what counts right?
So another couple weeks spent alive since last post so this merlot is for you dear first wife for making it this far and still looking pretty on and beautiful on the inside and out.
After two chemo sessions we’ve learnt a few things:
That the few days following Chernobyl sessions my first wife feels a little bit shit (pretty much over that weekend).
That if we want to socialise and do shit, we probably need to choose the alternate week to chemo sessions.
That the sheilas who work in the cancer care part at Mater Private Hospital in Redlands are all very lovely.
That the chair for support people like first husbands ain’t real comfortable. Probably doesn’t help that we’re usually there for four hours, I guess.
That if I look at the sheilas in the cancer care centre with puppy dog eyes and make my stomach rumble, they will also give me a sandwich.
That it doesn’t matter where my first wife dozes off because she can do loud snorting snores that wake her up anywhere.
That although my first wife doesn’t recommend this weight loss program she has lost 10kg since this cunt of a disease entered our lives.
That people still care and very much still do give a fuck.
That if we are organised, we can still do our backyard feeds and piss ups around the fire (even if first wives can’t drink piss with us).
That the record we thought would last forever on the pee tree has been broken and I am again the reigning champion, so fuck yeah!
That the one lot of neighbours on our street are still whinging cunts and all other neighbours are just good cunts.
That the first wife was probably correct and I was possibly wrong for maybe the second time ever. We needed to cut down a couple trees in our backyard because they were fucking up our drains and house footings. I was going to climb up and do them myself but a professional tree lopper managed to do it quick as, at a very good price and I didn’t even have to die or lose a limb by chain sawing a leg off instead of a tree branch.
That Marjana’s appetite is improving but she’s still finding out what she can and can’t eat, and that is forever changing.
That food tastes different to her now and she even thinks the wine I drink is now sour.
That my first wife has pissed me off and I’d use one of those Seven Dwarfs comparisons if I could but there isn’t one called ‘Annoying Dwarf’ so might have to start looking at Smurfs for comparisons because they got heaps more than just seven of the blue midget things.
I guess we all get pissed off with our spouses and going to work can be a good thing so you don’t spend all your time together and get pissed off for fuck all. So when life changes like ours has it’s probably surprising it took us this long.
But on Saturday she pulled out that skillset that she excels in beyond belief. You know, the one called ‘nagging’ ‘cos she’s ‘Level Expert’ in that. It’s one of her superpowers.
You know when your get like cabin fever and shit and you’re sharing that cabin with someone and everything they do pisses you off because basically they’re just annoying cunts… Well my first wife took it upon herself to blink as loudly as she could knowing that it was gunna annoy me. She was blinking like a fucking spastic having an epileptic fit with a blink blink here and a fucking blink blink there and everywhere a fucking blink blink.
Having been snared by her trap in early 96, I know her pretty well and I’m not sure if it’s a cancer thing or just an age thing as the dear ol’ thing has got a few years under her belt now but fucked if I can remember a day ever that she blinked with such amplified results.
On a positive though, her eyes were open longer than the multiple milliseconds she spent blinking.
She is of course a staunch Catholic and her belief in God will see her/us through.
She even used it to trick me into forgiving her on Sunday by attending mass (even if it was via a livestream). She’s a cunning little thing I tell ya because she knows that at every mass there’s a part where you have to say hi or wish good will or something to people and because we were the only two in the room I fell victim to her crafty little plan and with her big beautiful eyes and her knowing smirk, I succumbed and gave her a kiss. Had to tell her real quick though that I forgave her before she could tell me first.
That’s a positive in more than one way too though because her guts might be all fucked up but her brain definitely ain’t. She can even plan and shit… which by the way was what started it all because she wanted to plan the rest of the kitchen reno shit.
That leads on to the vertigo scene I guess, because although it ain’t brain related (its an ear thing with minute crystals being dislodged into the ear canal apparently) it’s very much a real-life interruption into our current real life situation, being that little thing we call the cunty cancer.
So my first wife’s vertigo has improved heaps after doing some funky moves along the lines of ‘look left while sitting, lay down on right side, roll onto back with head still left, head to centre, roll back to right and sit back up’ but with long pauses between each part and of course I wouldn’t be the shit stirring cunt I am if I wasn’t continually doing annoying little things to her third tit and yes even her original ones while she’s not allowed to move, has to concentrate and her head is doing the ‘spin the bottle’ thing. Some would argue I can be an annoying loud blinker myself, but I don’t fall into such nonsense.
Marjana is still getting regular visitors from our various networks and friend circles which always makes her happy. Just message or call her and you can come around so she can show you her scar. It’s one of her new hobbies now.
Her mobility is heaps better than it was but still not flash enough to hang out the washing which is mostly this slave’s work. I figured if I did a shit job her mobility might improve more but hasn’t worked yet, fuck it.
We have both joined some cancer groups on Facebook that are quite insightful as are all our mates who have battled this same shit. It’s hard to comprehend how many people are affected by cancer, man. It’s like waking up one day and being a ranga and when you go out in public you notice all the other people with red hair. Okay maybe it’s not that bad 😉
I couldn’t be here to annoy my first wife if my work colleagues and bosses hadn’t been so awesome in accommodating our situation. It really does mean heaps, man so thank you but special thanks to some real good cunts Chris and Darni.
Chemo again on Wednesday so hopefully this one goes ahead.
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