#42 The cold sore woman

If ya ever feeling a little bit too happy just google How long do people with stage four bowel cancer live and it should have resolve that over happy feeling for you.

There are of course fantastic outcomes and happy endings that even trump those of the back alley massage parlour, but ordinarily, the survival rate ain’t that of a paper cut and nor is it the life expectancy of a tortoise.

On a kinda positive note though, upon being diagnosed with bowel cancer the life expectancy is usually substantially longer than that of person involved in a fatal crash, following actual impact.

I imagine some of you reading this are like what the fuck man, but it is what it is and that’s the reality we live with. Plus there is always faith and hope and love and laughter and of course miracles… and beer and mean as feeds.

I reckon I’m ticking at least a couple of those traits and what I don’t quite achieve my first wife covers off in boundless supply.

I’ve found that sometimes when dealing with this cunt of a disease there are moments when life is all fine and dandy and then there are those other moments when you come home from work feeling happy but drained and end up with seeping eyes.

Enough of this sad shit reading though and back to something I’m much better at, taking the piss.

With the first wife’s brain being a little bit fucked up with her getting dizzy and shit we thought, hey lets go spend a chunk of money by seeing a neurologist sheila… so yeah, we did that.

She performed some funky moves but not like 1970s disco moves. Nah these were more like a cheating Springbok tactics against All Blacks in the dark hidden areas of a ruck, but just without the kicking and eye gouging aspects.

The neurologist sheila works out of the same flash high end rooms as our oncologist. You know the one that I’m not allowed to call a gnome, even though he looks like one but it did lead to our quote of the day though.

Oncologist that I’m not allowed to call a gnome, even though he looks like one: I see you’ve seen the neurologist?

Me: Fuck man, your office is flash as. You must be real rich cunt. I thought I was in a resort it was so flash.

My first wife carried around a cold sore for a week or so and when she gets cold sores, fuck does she get cold sores! Not sure how, but on her they even grow bigger than her whole head. Ok, maybe I am taking the piss a little but she does laugh like fuck when I do this little impersonation of her cold sore scab flapping in the wind. She even said she could be one of those squid faced pirates in Pirates of the Caribbean.

Anyway the cold sore woman and I were walking hand in hand and she asked me if I’m embarrassed to be seen with her like this. Fuck man, I actually thought she was talking about her cancer, wearing a beanie and hobbling around like a sore footed penguin on hot coals but apparently she was talking about her massive deformed growth of a cold sore.

Me: Oh that? Your cold sore? Nah man, I’m all good. Fuck, I invented the cold sore (well my ol’ lady did when she used to use the dirty soggy germ infected dishcloth to clean our faces when we were too young to fight back).

A few little every day life updates to show our life is still somewhat normal…

The first wife and I helped Kodi move home. His wings continue to grow with him now living in his second flat. He might have the freedom he doesn’t get at home but he doesn’t get the mean as feeds he gets at home… or the cuddles from his Mama.

Had a mate bring three good cunts around to help extend our deck into a decent sized balcony. All for a carton of piss and a decent feed on my smoker. Jakesy and his chippie mates didn’t quite get the job finished but their efforts were massively appreciated. Every little thing that makes my first wife happy is a beautiful thing.

We attended a formal mass for Dilan becoming a school prefect at his school, Iona. Such a proud moment and worth it if only for the smiles it brought to my fist wife’s face.

He’s still looking for a 4×4 so if anyone has one for sale or knows of one can you give us a heads up please.

Headed to Straddie a couple weeks back for a bit of a catch up to bag out a piece of shit cunt. Always a good time on Minjerribah and nice to reconnect with a few peeps.

Also, being old cunts now a lot or our celebratory events are due to funerals, 50ths, 60ths, divorces etc rather than 21sts or weddings. Last week however, we attended a ripper of an event where a couple of sheilas hooked up after walking down an aisle.

Marjana absolutely loved this day because she got to catch up with a bunch of workmates and also witnessed two of ’em get married. I loved it too in case ya wondering. Was heaps of free piss. Here’s to you two sheilas who obviously have good taste because they’re the ones who gave my first wife this cool blanket as a gift.

The first wife hates the cold but secretly uses it as an excuse to cuddle up to me via a blanket

We continue our lives with fortnightly Chernobyl day visits including yesterday. Last week’s session though was postponed because we both had colds. Well the first wife had a cold. I had man-flu and that shit fucks up humans with cocks and balls big time.

These last few weeks have also seen a drastic change in the ol’ girls ability to walk without pain. We don’t exactly know why but it seems like all of a sudden and very much out of the blue Marjana’s body has taken a little bit of a beating of late because when she’s cold she seriously walks like a little old lady full of arthritis. We hope this is only a temporary thing because it’s a bit of a cunt, and not of the good cunt variety. Watch this spot I guess.

Just because my old Silverdale rugby mates were on the piss together

#40 Return of the spew bucket

Hard to believe we have reached 40 Cancer Chronicle blogs really.

I remember when I turned 40 I was so pissed off. Seriously man, I wasn’t very happy at all. When I turned 50 though, I was actually happy it. Not really sure what the difference was but in all reality, they’re just numbers anyway.

Whether it’s a number relating to how many times you’ve been around the sun or how many times you’ve clicked ‘publish’ on a blog it still really is just a number… it’s what happens between those numbers that matter.

And in this instance, those 40 posts hopefully have kept y’all updated on the happenings of someone we know and love together and in doing so given you a few laughs in between. It’s certainly done that for us.

Don’t get me wrong though in thinking it’s all fun and games in reliving the comedic reality show in print because as you groupie readers know all too well, there’s been plenty of fucked times too.

Fucked times aint dead times though so even they need to be celebrated. But enough of this philosophical shit and back to real stuff like my first wife’s massive green projectile vomit a couple nights ago.  Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, man.

It was almost like a back to the future thing with Marjana talking in a monotone robot like voice saying ‘Get me a bucket quick!’.  Now I’m a dumb cunt alright but dumb cunt or not, I still got a memory and recalled the times of old when she says those words in that tone.

Like a treasure hunt expert in an olympic sprint I found a large enough spew vessel in the nick of time and the ol’ girl played her part in not making my giving it to her a waste of time.

She’d had her Chernobyl Day dose of chemo the day prior on Wednesday and woke up on Kodi’s birthday day feeling pretty good. By the time I returned from an ultrasound on our other son Dilan’s ankle she had stomach cramps and has since had had the chemo bottle removed on Friday and now three days later, she still got em.

Kinda sucks and unsure what they’re from.  I reckon it’s a bug and she reckons its from looking at my ugly head so the jury’s is still out on that.

But she’s still getting nausea and shouldn’t be and with vertigo coming back as often as aphids on my plants the little cunts, we’re now booked in to see a Neurologist.

Even had an MRI on my first wife’s head for good measure and when we told Dilan, the conversation went something like this…

Me – Ya ol’ lady had an MRI scan on her brain today to check if there was a brain in there. 

Dilan – Maybe they should do one on your head, Dad.

Me – You little cunt.

Marjana and Dilan laughed like fuck and I begrudgingly told Dilan he may have just made the quote of the day.

Anyway, the scan results showed she does have a brain and it’s alive and in her head. It’s the small things in life, right.

Small things like road trip days to places we never been before.

We been taking Bella to the dog beach a few times a week and the walk there and back can be six or seven kilometres so we might be unfit fat cunts but that ain’t too bad for, well… unfit fat cunts, I suppose.

We’ve also been making a concerted effort to do shit even when the cook ain’t feeling too flash.

We’ve visited some good mates at Sunny Coast and even got to catch up with one of the loudest proudest Aussies I know from way back. We ate food, drank piss and told old rugby war stories from our California days following another mate dying.

San Francisco Rugby Club memory lane

Cuzzie Jase the Ace took the cook on a Harley ride for the day and she dug it. Thanks to Lisa for sharing her man, his bike and her riding gears but fuck did she make me pay by drinking heaps and heaps of my plonk.

That afternoon flowed into the evening in Fortitude Valley where we watched Kodi’s band Victor Bravo perform live for the first time in way too long. It was a primo show with heaps of hot young scantily clad chicks, hip looking muso dudes with finely trimmed moustaches and a couple of beat up old cunts going as hard out as the performing band. These Victor Bravo kids are still finding their feet in both the musical and the real world but they got the goods musically and hoping they manage to find their way through the eye of the needle and make it.

But it’s nice to see ya kids doing what they love. With one it’s music and the other it’s rugby. Except for injuries of course. Injuries suck. Dilan’s a tough little cunt though, I’ll give him that.  Played a full game of school rugby for Iona College and another 15 minutes for the 2nd 15 and rolled his ankle during the second game. Even played the last seven or so minutes hobbling around.

As mentioned before, Kodi had his birthday and the first wife wasn’t feeling real flash but I cooked us a few mean as feeds including my own aptly named butbut style chicken on my new smoker, some American style pork ribs and the following day I smoked some fish (mullet) that I fucked up because mouthfuls of salt ain’t a cuisine I’d like to return to.

This will be one of those ‘I guess you had to be there’ stories but was driving Dilan to school and had Marjana next to me. She might seem nice to y’all but I tell ya what, you do not want to be some old rich cunt living his midlife crises in a small expensive convertible in front of us and not taking off immediately when the light turns green or otherwise you gunna be getting a bit of this (sorry I stopped the recording before she finished her snorting)…  

‘Fuck off you little cunt’

Not really a funny quote of the day but worth the mention when talking about Marjana getting repeated nausea…

Our Oncologist who I’m not allowed to call a gnome even though he looks like one – I guess the best thing we could do is stop the nausea.

Me – I’m thinkin’ probably the best thing could be to cure cancer, maybe.’

Here’s a positive I guess… these blogs have changed from daily updates about staying alive and the intricate moments involved to an almost journal like retelling on us living life. A boring life even. But that has to be a good thing, aye.

Like a couple of Deadheads at a Victor Bravo concert