Chemo no 9 - it’s time to talk The Bairn, tears, snot, shit but not actually dying for a bit if that

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peachbum said:
Foggy, make sure your daughter reads your posts.
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I’m the non sweary dad, I don’t swear in front of in an old fashioned way! She laughs that I ask her to say pump not fart then I come on here and swear like fuck.

You’re right though. I should really but this is my alter ego. My say anything I like because it’s just a Stan Cummins tribute with a daft name. I’m not belittling it. It’s important to me like nothing I could have imagined.

Food for thought anyhoo. Thanks for the food.
 
foggy said:
Where's the end of my title? If that('s ok)?

Even my titles are too long :oops:

Anyway thanks again you magnificent bastards. I've dozed and woken up to this. Oh and thanks Rocky - how could I have missed you, you funniest of funny buggers? Another thank you to the newly named motherfucking monk, have two for the sweariest post ever - I should have reported you really, but you're like Ted off the fillum, sweary but lovely. Latka - I like the bloke in your avatar, died of cancer, at a young age but that's fine, I like reading your stuff elsewhere as with some others, even in the Politics forum, I wrote something in there once, never again, it was worse than the cricket forum. Monkey, rock, hab,Gav, mugg, rain - must stop I'm going on too long like Gwinny. I just love you all.

And Sandboy - yes she did, turned out to be the Air Cadets' best swimmer when it came to humping the southerners in the regionals - sorry proud dad shit again. Oh dear I like my anonymity, I only let the egg man know who I am because of the free eggs.
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Sorry, Fogster, I cuz like a motherfucker when I get emotional... you're the motherfucking best... seriously, man, I just joined this here board and now I've adopted you as my motherfucking mentor - so hurry up and get well and teach this shit for brains American how to navigate this bitch...

Much love, motherfucker... much love...
 
Foggy your humour shines through pal. I'm amazed the amount of brave fuckers this place produces. Your writing is bringing back so many memories of Hazeys struggle. Should the shitty stick of life ever hit me like it has you then if I could face it with half of the grit and determination that you are then that would be some achievement. Take care pal and keep the words flowing.
 
Kind words Spitfire and much appreciated like everyone else’s.

More forgots while I’m on. Tunstall, our resident mr lover lover or furious Popeye armed masturbator- pick one

And Si73 is my one and only egg man. He’s seen me despite my comfortable anonymity! Hairy head and a bit overweight caused by a sweet tooth and nee exercise. Si has a proper beard, mine fell out after chemo 2 and a pale imitation grew back. Greyer.

I’m not a stereotypical skinny baldy. “I look well” people tell me. Short for fat bastard. We’re having a tipple soon. I think King K should come along, he opened the door for me to talk cancer. I’m getting the whisky the next time Morrisons send me a have more points email. I’m savvy or tight. Pick one here too. I’ve got my eye on Gentleman Jack. The bottle looks nice.

I’m rattling on because of the drugs
 
My wife's friend has been incurable but controlled for the last 8 years. Keep on fighting it mate! And never let your lass bad mouth Carol the weather lass she brightens up the day even when it's pissing down.

All the best.
 
foggy said:
Hug your special ones, please don’t take it for granted. The bairn is mentioning some long term future plans, career aspirations, she has a fella, Sunderland supporter, goes to the match when he’s back up here, even last season, doesn’t drink, so polite, also at a University close to hers, lovely lad, if Carlsberg did etc. She even started talking future baby names - nope not pregnant, what she wants to do as a career, I actually think a bit of her is telling me that she will be fine and cope in a future without me, bless her. Is she is giving me permission to go knowing that she will be fine?

Permission to go? I’m not ready, I’m greedy, I’m selfish, I’m 48 for fucks’ sake. I don’t want to go, I want a future, even see a grandchild. I’d be a top grandad if I do say so myself but I won’t get a chance to prove that will I? Oh shit, my eye middles are leaking, I need to wheel Metal Mickey to the toilet, we’re attached at my chest port…

My own parents taught me the rights and wrongs to start with, the do the right thing, the think of others. Pity my dad was born in Sunderland and my mam a staunch pit village, Sunderland only. I don’t mean it, I’m glad they weren’t born in Manchester or Madrid. We have season cards selling like lukewarm cakes, pink seat replacement, another div 3 campaign. Fuck the Premier and Champions’ League, the highs are higher when the climb is steeper.

And now they’re watching me fight a battle I have a slim chance of winning. I can’t imagine that, we shouldn’t see our children buried, it’s the wrong order, no matter the age.

No doubt, I believe in the power of the mind and that is all I have to get to that day. The graduation day, I’m off on a tangent. Who has the toilet lights? They are my Tinkerbells out there. Pee, believe, send a thought, believe a bit more and it will help me get there.

So. Back to shit. I described my shit once as caramel cack, not big logs, not small peas, with thumb and finger helping things out, caramel sloppy cacky. The nurse nodded knowingly, they are shit experts I’m telling you. I got something added to my prescriptions to grease the rails. That is 6 prescriptions now just for chemo and related pain med and poo side effects.

Do I still have to introduce my ramblings? ‘The Attention Seeking Bellendery of a Drug Induced Incurable Self Pitying Benefits Scrounger Milking An Embuggerance In No Way Unique To Me? It’s a lot to type. Maybe I’ll have that at the top each time. Like a book title? Hazey’s was catchier and the Terry Pratchett estate will have me. So maybe not.

One of the younger nurses has had cancer herself. She had a tumour she said, that was and I quote ‘hanging out of my vagina’ as she did the size of the tumour thing with her hands. It was a big tumour. I repeated ‘hanging out of your vagina?’ and nodded up down and sideways, fast, like a young-but old-Tom Hanks in Big would do, in appreciation of its size and what I’d just heard.

Later on, our lass sniffed and told me ‘she was flirting with you’. Only our lass, the crazy jealous our lass. Even hates that I like It’s Time For Carol With The Weather. Get that slag off she says. Carol the weatherlass? Lovely scottish Carol who makes flood warnings sound like toasted marshmallows? Just be careful and it will be alright soon? Nee wonder Myrtle, the ghost at the top of the stairs in front of the bathroom door has reservations about our lass, she’s crackers but eternally optimistic, will not ever accept anything negative about me and this bugger on before it’s inevitable. A bloody rock when all is said and done. Crazy Paving I suppose.

But tell me, if ever a lass tells you about her hanging out vagina tumour, would you stop and think uh-oh I think I better be telling her I’m not single right about now?

So this year and up to number 9, I’ve come out and feel liberated. No time to read about the Boffins, the time flies over. I feel like I’m talking to you each of you one on one. I know who some of you are now. The lad who went to my school, the egg man, great eggs marra. Hint, hint, the egg boxes are in the usual place. Me and Becs are going dog walking when I get me dog. Yes the one and anly legendary Becs. I know others in my head, Janey, her Dad - doffs cap - , Flicky - went to my school ages before me, used a feathered quill and the inkwell, Epps, King K, Goaty, HKP, Dober, WW, WS,, mellie, MKF, Daffy, hunk, raindog, piano, Cowvahlo, Peil, Swindon, Fish, Wicksy, Nemo - even older than Flicky, the Monk, Roker legend for the retirement help, fuck it I want to type the name of everyone but just know that I know all of you. You say things and I file it under you in the Rollerdex in my head, like the nurses. This has become so important to me. You talk about how I write, it’s a bit of a bugger on, I have peripheral neuropathy, or fizzy fingers, due to the Oxyplatin on last year’s Folfox but I get a sweaty head on and tippy tap away.

And how I inspire? Really? Get to fuck. I’m a big f***ing snotty cry baby begging for Tinkerbell toilet believe in me’s.

I have been in the ward from 9 this morning and it’s 6pm. I know this is too long to post in one thread so will have to split when home.

I’ve managed my 25 paragraphs and then some. This is therapy for me so if you made it this far - get a life.

I get pm’s. Some from those who have relatives in a similar or worse position than me. (I’ll take a moment for Liam who died last week - my thoughts are with you and your family Jayjay). Others want to know how it is for them and how to be. Well their diagnosis is your diagnosis. It’s harder for you most of the time because you think you can’t help. Bollocks. I was an independent sort my shit out myself type, but I couldn’t manage without the support. Family have no choice but real friends stay and actually do things not just say it. Bless them all. I know that support is there and by fuck do I appreciate it. Just be there, do and have normalty.

Do the now, not the pre-grieve. Time for that later, or maybe not, you never know.

Keep The Faith, I believe is the term we use around these parts.

All the best
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Fuck sake, tried to respond to those posts and there's nothing I can say mate..

Can only admire your courage .. Stay strong mate...

Fuck
 
BiffaBeercan said:
My wife's friend has been incurable but controlled for the last 8 years. Keep on fighting it mate! And never let your lass bad mouth Carol the weather lass she brightens up the day even when it's pissing down.

All the best.
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8 years! I love reading stuff like that. I'll be boring the shit out of everyone hopefully. Honestly, I really hope there comes a day when I'm told to pack it in.

I'll never be Hazey, he drew pictures with his words and beautiful ones at that, he was all arty and whatnot too. The way he talked about his wife.

Me, I've just got the milk-in-after-the-teabag-out right with our lass.

I also may be guilty in my over the top admiration of Carol, pretending it's her meteorological knowledge I'm attracted to. And singing Oh Carol in the shower is a wind up. I shout the "Darling there will never be another" I'm just being a bit naughty in my head, but our lass has an wordy imagination of her own. It can be quite shocking, especially if I thought she really meant it. I must try the Alexa play Oh Carol in the (wherever our lass is) room. With a please of course. That should elicit a good response.

Then I'll cook something for us - the only time she says 'that was amazing' sadly...
 
Lost my Mum & Dad to the big C when they were still young. Keep the fight up mate, your daughter needs you. Always good to hear how you are getting fella. All the best!
 
Going through a low point in my life at the moment but "fuck me", I feel like a millionaire after reading that. Thank you for your words Foggy, you're a superstar.
 
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