Things for Smiles and Frowns...

Tomorow I am 19. My first birthday in cancer terms. Numero uno. I wish Richard would come back from Germany. That's all I want.

So... I have not written a post in a long time. Not since the days of eggs collecting. Those are over now. Ovaries are all better and eggs are all vitrified.

Today I went to the transplant clinic. They have found me a donor. PARTYPARTYPARTY. Young German Male. Of this person I am fond... I am pleased to find out the nearest tissue type to me is German man tissue...(I'm just a sweet transvestite...) They haven't yet tracked him down, if they can't find him they have a backup, someone else not from the UK. I always told you I wasn't from round here, but did you listen Mr Nationality They Put On My Passport...

The appointment went on longer than War and Peace and they told me lots of stuff and things and dates and numbers and statistics and and and I don't really know where to begin. Chemo and radiotherapy starts in early October. I will be extremely ill. And wonderfully bald, you should see me in my green wig. I honestly have no idea why more people don't have green hair. It is quite simply, superior. There's a lot of diseases and complications I might get with the transplant. A lot lot lot lot. Lot. Many. Masses. Amounts of largeness. The transplant itself is just like a blood transfusion, a big bag of saline filled with ickul stem cells, all floaty floaty around... But then after, blergh. Oh, and I get heart scans and hickman lines and ultrasounds and induced diseases and early menopauses and all the things in the world apart from my ice cream van. All that and there's only a 50% chance it'll work... And back to square one... It won't be fun, but at least it's science!

I also got told that I have an incredibly rare defect in my mental chromosome defect. Something like that. Basically, I am proper even more rare and proper even more mental. Haaaaaardcore. To the bone, quite literally. Man.

There is however, one thing that drives me up eine kline nacht muwalllllllllllllllllllllllll! Counsellors, nurses, thinking they know how I feel. I tried to politely decline help today... I told them I was too happy to have cancer, they need to depress me and they're all like oh, it must be your way of coooooopinnngggggg. I don't need to cope, I was never bloody upset in the first place. It's almost depressing for everyone to expect you to be depressed. I am very sorry Miss Counsellor for putting you out of a job, but I'm not going to sit and pretend to be sad to give you something to do. This is not an upsetting thing, marmite and coffee and sea lions and slow walking people are upsetting things... Marmite will never go away, but my cancer just might.

I really should write down all the things I get told...

Oh! I weigh 9 stone and 9 pounds. This is slightly more. SCORE. SOON MY ARSE WILL BE FAT AGAIN!!! Ahahahahahahahaha, and then I shall be THE QUEEN OF THE WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I miss my fat arse. I don't know how flat bummed people sit down for more than ten minutes. Flab=comfy. Also, my boobs are being huge today, I swear they might even be a handful for someone small...

The past couple of weeks have also taught me a lot about people. There are some people who will stick by you through all this, through thick and thin. Then there are the ones who are there for you when it suits them, and can't even tell you such a thing straight, and make up excuses and bla bla bla. You know who you are and this isn't the time for let's play being thirteen... I'll pull your hair! And you can't pull mine, because I shall soon be BALD!!!!!!!!!! Ahahahaha!

So yes. Good news really.

And now I am going to stop up and count down the seconds until I hit 19 and be old and go grey and stuff... SO OLD. I am expecting many happy birthday wishes, dahhhlinks...

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