A matter of taste: an update.

Don't worry, this isn't an update on my turd-status (although I'm back on track, thanks very much – probably thanks to Mum who, when some family friends came over last night, put out a big bowl of crisps for her guests and, beside it, a small bowl of prunes for me). Nor is it an update on my tastebuds (also getting there, cheers – P’s spicy soup was delicious, and probably more fiery than I could

A matter of taste: an update.

By: Unknown on: 09:30

Let's hear it for the boys.

Last night I dreamt that my hair had grown back long enough for me to be able to go out without a wig. I was meeting up with some friends (as is always the case in dreams, it was a really disparate bunch that no real-life circumstance would ever put together) and we were due to be having some kind of water-fight-themed summer party in Tills' back garden. Thinking that I could get away with

Let's hear it for the boys.

By: Unknown on: 10:04

A matter of taste.

One of my favourite questions to ask people – along with their top five songs, football team and favourite Beatle – is what their death-row, last-ever meal would be (you can tell I'm a sucker for those inane, reply-to-all email questionnaire things). My answer's been the same for years: a cheese and crisps sandwich (white bread, plenty of butter, Cheddar cheese, salt and vinegar crisps) and a mug

A matter of taste.

By: Unknown on: 07:24

Old red eyes is back.

In chemo on Friday, one of the nurses commented that I looked 'very glam'. If only she could see me now: I look like a smackhead. Dark circles, red eyes, sunken features, greying skin... And, not that I know what being a smackhead feels like, but I imagine it's better than this (you don't tend to get many highs with these kind of drugs). The first couple of days post-chemo went pretty much as I'd

Old red eyes is back.

By: Unknown on: 12:31

The magic number.

Well here we are again: Chemo Friday (volume three). And what a pisser. I'm starting to think that the being-at-hospital stuff is worse than the shit that comes after chemo (remind me of that in a few hours and I WILL KILL YOU – first rule of cancer: never mess with a woman who's got it). I really fucking hate being at that fucking hospital (second rule of cancer: it may induce Tourettes). Every

The magic number.

By: Unknown on: 09:17

Memory almost full.

I'm known among my family and friends for two things: I'm always late and my memory is terrible. I forget names and dates (an affliction I keep on top of with a ridiculously organised diary and a propensity to write lists), important tasks, whole conversations, nights out (though I fear a lot of that is self-inflicted), childhood memories... you name it, I've forgotten it. I revealed to Tills

Memory almost full.

By: Unknown on: 09:12

It's a wonderful life.

There's something wrong with my tear ducts. I've been back through all my chemo leaflets and lists of side-effects, but it looks like this is one thing I can't blame on the drugs. The problem is me – I'm turning into a cry baby. Over the past week, I've felt happier than I have at any point throughout The Bullshit, and probably even happier than I've felt for a while before it. That's a seemingly

It's a wonderful life.

By: Unknown on: 12:56