A warning.

I've just received a text message from a mate: 'You do realise that, after reading your last post, everyone's now going to buy you Sudocrem for your birthday.'Don't even think about it.

A warning.

By: Unknown on: 03:26

And it burns, burns, burns.

Just when I thought cancer couldn't get any more glamorous, now I've got piles. Look, you've been warned before about this being a warts-and-all account of my experience. Just offering up the fluffy bits would be an unfair representation of The Bullshit, not to mention completely made up (there are, of course, no fluffy bits). And so, if you want the complete picture of what all of this is like

And it burns, burns, burns.

By: Unknown on: 05:02

Careful what you wish for.

Another one of the annoying things about cancer (expect to read that sentence a lot) is how utterly boring it can get. At least my tumour had the good sense to show up in time for Wimbledon, a summer of cricket, the Olympics and the start of football season (come on you Rams!), so I'd have a load of sport to keep me entertained. Yesterday, though, was a typically dull day – so dull, in fact, that

Careful what you wish for.

By: Unknown on: 04:57

Getting wiggy with it.

How did I get through a whole post yesterday without telling you about my wig fitting? That was the one thing I'd specifically planned to write about, but I guess I must've got waylaid by the pubes stuff. Sheesh, they're not wrong about the brain fog, are they? 'You'll probably find that it becomes difficult to concentrate,' warned the Curly Professor's Glamorous Assistant. No shit! Yesterday it

Getting wiggy with it.

By: Unknown on: 06:11

Stories from the bush.

There's something really emancipatory about feeling even slightly better after you've been ill. The day before yesterday, something felt different when I woke up – maybe it was the decent night's sleep, the lack of that usual sickly taste, or the fact that the Amplified Aussie upstairs had kept the volume down for once – either way, for the first time in a wee while, I felt good. (Just to clarify

Stories from the bush.

By: Unknown on: 04:53

Dream a little dream.

Thanks to my constant, energy-drained need for a nap, I've been getting increasingly narked by the potential sleep-preventing sounds around me. The fan in the bedroom that blows the TV wire against the wall every seven seconds. The volume-challenged Aussie upstairs and his continual playing of Hot Fuss (decent album and all, but twice a day?). The thieving pigeons who flap about while nabbing the

Dream a little dream.

By: Unknown on: 10:22

Ugly Betty.

Listen up, medical community. We need to have words. When I signed up for Fun With Chemo, nobody said anything about the acne. Call me obsessive, but I've just reached 19 (that's 19 – count 'em) spots. And that's just on my face and neck. God knows what my arse looks like. They're not your normal spots either. They're the pulsing, painful, Belisha-beacon kind. There are satellites in space

Ugly Betty.

By: Unknown on: 05:09