The longest blog about nothing in the history of the longest blogs about nothing......Seinfeld would be proud ?
I don't want to die with people hating me, these are words I never thought would cross my mind, never mind leave my mouth, but it was something my friend said the other day to me and it cut, it cut deep, probably because I had already been thinking it myself, she said if I died tomorrow, she'd rather I died the way our relationship was and how I was 6 months ago, not how I am now and I totally understand where she's coming from, we're trying to adjust to "our" or more "my" new norm, now what you as the reader don't know is the context in which this comment was made, it was made in an environment where these sort of issues are meant to be addressed, she didn't just blurt it out of nowhere, we were actually addressing our newly challenged/changed relationship.
Cancer brings a lot more than just pain, tumours and hair loss, it affects every relationship you're involved in, from your mother, to your father, to your brother, to your sister, to your in-laws, to your cousins, to your friends, to your workmates and even to your local newsagent, it has a way of working it's way into your life like haemorrhoids, you don't know where they come from, they just sort of pop up one day and start to be a real pain in the ass, let's just say if there was a "Facebook friendship relationship status" update my friend who made the comment and I would be currently under "it's complicated......but we're working on it", this bastard of a thing will not wreck my relationship with this person, my love and admiration for them is too deep for this cancer to ever fuck it up, so up yours cancer🖕🏼your little plan isn't working.
I get it I totally do. These drugs I am on, if you were taking them individually, your emotions would be all over the place like a North QLD summers day, you wake up in the morning at 7am all sunny and singing, by 11 am it's overcast and raining, at 1 pm you're out frolicking and having fun at the beach and then it hits 5pm again and the thunder starts to roll in, the lightning starts to strike and the rain begins to set in, then finally by 9 pm you're relaxing on the balcony watching the moon shine between the clouds and listening to the calming sounds of the ocean, then just like your iPhone music, you hit repeat and shuffle the next day and it starts all over again, you see I never know which Lisa I am going to get at any given time of the day and my friends certainly don't either, as you can imagine this would put some strain on any relationship.
You see I like to think I've always been a pretty decent person, the type of person at the cash register who lets the person with 5 items in front of me, even if I only have like 12, I prefer to give than receive, I used to save my birthday and Christmas money for presents for other people's birthdays and special occasions when I was younger, I'm the type of person who will always wave thank-you for letting me merge in traffic, I'm the one who always stands to the side in the shopping centre aisle Mexican stand off, or that's who I was, well I sometimes still am.
I'm like a tsunami, completely unpredictable, I am more up and down emotionally than Oprah Winfrey's weight in the 80's, I have had more arguments in the last 4 months than Charlie Sheen has had porn stars and broken bed springs and the last thing I want, is to die with my friends and family thinking, fuck she was a bitch near the end there, I want them to think, fuck we've lost a good person, fuck I'm sad, fuck how will I live without her? Firetruck I miss Lisa (that's Ava my nearly 3 year old niece, she only swears when it's warranted or if she thinks no one is listening 😘) Fuck how will I function as a fully functioning human being without Lisa in the world?......Ok ok I may have gone a bit overboard there, but you get what I mean.
Throw in the 24 hour pain meds I am on, the nerve pain meds I am on, the other pain meds I am on, the 1-2 hours broken sleep I am lucky to get each night, I honestly don't know how people with chronic fatigue do it every day, how do they possibly force themselves out of bed feeling this way all the time? I have never felt tiredness like it, it is like I am walking in a cloud all day long, I have microsleeps all day long also, I'll just be sitting there and the next thing I am asleep, I have actually been in the midst of giving myself a needle and had a microsleep, woken up with a syringe inches from my eye whilst attempting to administer my pain medication in the middle of the night.
My head is everywhere I have no control over my thoughts at all or what comes out of my mouth, for example I apparently phoned my friend Melissa the other day and asked her if she likes Diamond earrings, her response was yes of course, but why are you asking this? To which I replied "things aren't looking good", and simply hung up the phone, now I have absolutely no recollection of this ever happening, I apparently also then rang my friend Rebecca and was discussing with her that her partner is a colorectal surgeon, the conversation ended quite quickly because Rebecca decided that I wasn't in my right mind and perhaps I needed to get off the phone to maybe have a little bit of a sleep, because I certainly wasn't making sense on the phone and no her partner is not a colorectal surgeon for the rectum I mean record and I've also been in the emergency department and asked the doctor in charge who is probably only in is early 30s, how long he has been balding for? Was he balding since he was a young man? (Mum says the ground could have swallowed her up and she said she feels like this on many an occasion, especially when I'm in hospital) I have also asked nurses and doctors to begin polygamist marriages with me in the emergency department, so as you may have noticed my thoughts are not always what you would call "normal".
My mind being as unpredictable as it is at the moment, is also concerning me in relation to the future of my blog, I was only responding to a comment from a fellow blogger @young mama drama yesterday, that the blogs that used to seemingly just pour from my brain, through my fingertips onto my iPad with general ease and enjoyment are becoming more and more difficult to write and this of course scares me, because as you know my blog is my outlet, it has become more to me than just an online diary, it has become a place where I can come to escape and relate to others in similar situations to myself, it has become more of a community, a support network for friends and family of people who are going through hard times, not necessarily cancer related either, maybe postnatal depression, maybe post-traumatic stress disorder, maybe just the daily stresses of life like motherhood and why your child won't eat a sandwich with the crust on today, but yesterday she did? To lose the ability to communicate with you fabulous rock stars would just push me over the edge, it would totally break my heart.
I've already lost so much to this disease, I cannot work, I cannot just hop in the car and go grab that bottle of milk that we need, I cannot go and jump in my car and blast the music and sing loudly just to escape my house for a minute, you know when you need that break? Like when you have a fight with your partner and you just need to jump in your car and go for a drive and blast the music really loud and sing and cry, but I can't do that anymore, I could just go and sit in the car in the driveway and do it, but somehow I don't think our new neighbours at our new house would appreciate some crazy psycho headbanging in the car in the driveway next to their house, although if they did it, I'd go get some popcorn, and enjoy the show!
So like an episode of Seinfeld, this has been a blog about nothing really, nothing bad or new has happened, well apart from my personality transplant and we're now at a 14 kilo weight gain mark in just a few short months. I haven't been told I have new tumours or it has spread to the bones or the brain or the lungs, they're all still in the same place (well as far as I'm aware of), I don't know exactly how many I have, we've sort of just stopped counting them now, I know there'd be at least like 20 of the slippery suckers. I have this horrible fear that it will spread to one of those 3 areas, I don't care if it continues in the same way it has the last few years, just stay the fuck away from my brain, I need that bastard to think, you just have to ask the Tin Man, having no brain is a massive inconvenience, stay away from my bones, my skin needs somewhere to hang around and for fuck sake stay away from my lungs, I need those things to breathe, I've had asthma all my life, but it was particularly bad as a child/teenager, I've been hospitalised with a 1/4 of my lungs working, I know what it's like to fight for every gasp of air you can get, to not be able to go to sleep because you firstly can't lie down comfortably when you can't take a breath and secondly you're shit scared you'll suffocate to death in the middle of the night. I don't wanna be walking around with an oxygen tank 24 hours a day or worse still, being pushed around in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank!
Other than the fact that I feel I am no longer the nice, calm, dependable, giving, loving and caring person that I used to be, she's still there, she is just not there as often in a day as she used to be, more like six hours a day, old Lisa and eight hours a day crankier Lisa and the other 10 hours, well that's anybody's guess. I suppose the point of all this jibber jabber is to let those I love and those I care about, those who've been around since day one and those of you whom I have only recently befriended or gotten to know in some small way recently through my blog know that deep down I am still the same person I always was, you just have to dig a little bit deeper to find me now, I promise I have realised these drugs I am taking alter my personality in a way that does not please me and others, so I am now working on it and as much as the drugs will allow me to get the old Lisa back on track, I'll be damned, if I don't get her back, if not for you, for me, because I miss knowing what mood I'm going to be in and I miss the old bubbly, happy and sing and dance in the shower Lisa, I promise she's still here and she will be back! I promise I'm not a total bitch, that sounded a bit like trust me I'm a politician, trust me I have terminal cancer😜, all I can do is work on it, like any other human being that have their faults, the first step to fixing a problem, is recognising there is one and I've done that, so we're already on our way to Terminally Fabulous Lisa land and I promise it will be better than Disneyland on steroids (you see that, a little bit of steroid humour, now I couldn't have joked about that when I started this blog, now I'm making fun of the bastard, I'd say we're half way to recovery already)! Stay fabulous Rockstars ❤️🤘🏼
So, I have been tossing up whether to post this for a while now and it's not to be controversial or to lambaste the drug companies that provide so many people with life saving or life extending drugs, but I just feel the need to get this out there and it's something you probably already know or have surmised.
Kickbacks, incentives, overseas trips, "overseas conferences", nice bottles of wine and the list goes on and I'm sure becomes more extensive or expensive. Don't get me wrong, if what the drug companies and doctors are doing is above board and totally legit and declared, well I say suck those drug companies dry, they have no problem taking our hard earned money, knowing most of us who are in terminal cancer stages specifically (obviously this happens with other illnesses such as MS, Parkinsons, ulcerated colitis etc, the list goes on, people need these drugs to survive and the drug companies know it, they certainly have us by the short and curlies, (for those of you born post 2000, this is slang for pubic hair, again this is hair that grows on your nether regions to help protect you from bacterial infections, also known as the map of Tasmania, bush, landing strip, carpet and the list goes on)for those of us who have ran out of traditional treatment options, we will mortgage our houses, sell or children's kidney, secretly post your husbands prized signed Muhammad Ali fight gloves on gumtree to try and raise funds for treatment or set up go fund me's which for many is embarrassing and demeaning, sadly those that need it most, often their pride gets in the way and they'd rather live on baked beans than ask a friend, let alone a stranger for financial help.
Basically it's a treat or die sort of thing and if you're told there is a drug that has shown really good promise in your cancer or something similar to the genetic make up of your cancer, of course you'd sell your soul to the devil to try this new "miracle" drug. Sadly these drugs are quite often not the panacea we are promised they will be and we as cancer patients jump on them, because they offer us that word again "hope", the one thing that we clutch too with our fingernails whilst we sit in chemo chairs for hours on end having toxic sludge pumped into our veins , holding onto sick bags, our head aching and cold from losing our hair to this miracle drug, our bodies either bloated or emaciated and all because a doctor has advised us this could be the life saving drug we have been waiting for.
Don't get me wrong I am grateful for these new treatment options and I for one am one of those people who jumps on most treatment options offered, I am one of those people that would always think, "what if?", they are offered to me few and far between for my never before seen cancer, so as you can imagine, the drug companies don't spend munch money on trying to find a cure for just one person, it just doesn't make sense economically or time wise, when they could be putting their energies and most importantly money into something that could save thousands.
Immunotherapy seems to be the next big thing in cancer treatment and here is my concern, one drug in particular that I was offered and it cost around $7000.00 every 3 weeks, if you were eligible the drug company would pay every second treatment for a total of three and you pay for the remaining 3 treatments, they tend to treat you with 6 of these intravenous treatments over 18 sweeks and then scan you to see if there is improvement. Now this drug in particular, like all drugs has a myriad of side effects that can occur (just like any drug you take, even paracetamol has some pretty scary side effects of you read them), one was that it can make your tumours grow, before it shrinks them, only problem being, they may grow, but the may not grow back to what they were or smaller, it also caused myself permanent lung damage, as immunotherapy can start to attack the healthy tissue of your organs, as it can't yet differentiate between the "cancer" cells and your "normal" cells, so we stopped after 3 treatments as the risks outgrew the possible reward of the drug for me. Here in lies my problem, I was told to try this drug because I had a good reaction to radiation, which is very rare for a person at my point of disease, so we worked out the costs, I was in a health fund at the time and thankfully, they paid half of my fee for each treatment I had to pay for. The thing is now I'm seeing it EVERYWHERE, so many people who read this blog write to me about it and the cost involved and the funding they need to get it etc. but when I ask what is the reason they have suggested this drug would be beneficial for them, they don't know.
This drug in particular has thrown melanoma treatment on its head and has it in a choke hold for the first time ever, it actually puts people in remission that were given no hope, the disease had spread to theireu bones and vital organs and in previous times this basically meant you're fucked, but this drug has shown so much promise, but did you know that these drug companies that make these drugs, wine and dine specialists in order to get their new drug out there. This is all of course is "speculation" Did you know specialists are attending conferences in places like Vienna, Vancouver and the list goes on? According to the Sydney Morning Herald, one supposed company spent $285,732 sending 24 oncologists to a five-day conference in Chicago with more than $10,000 spent on dinner allowance and this is just pittance, here's a link to the article, if you're interested http://m.smh.com.au/national/health/pharmaceutical-companies-splash-43-million-on-health-professionals-in-six-months-20160329-gnsy45.html dew which has much more interesting and expensive reading.
My whole point of this blog is the almighty dollar over life, very few people can afford $7000.00 every 3 weeks for a drug that holds no guarantee and then what if it does work? Oh happy days, but how is the average Joe going to be able to afford to continue to pay these exorbitant fees for an unknown period of time? They may need this drug for many years, what if this drug keeps them going until they're 85? Not everyone is James Packer with an endless money supply.
Money should not determine life and the fact that the deciding factor for many drug companies to proceed with making certain drugs is whether they will make money, is disgusting to me, I'd like to see a big drug company CEO sitting by the bedside of their bald, violently ill, in 24 hour a day pain, dying 34 year old daughter and simply deny them the chance at life because their disease isn't common enough and the costs of making the drug outweigh the return of selling it and to those specialists that have been practising the you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours since the dawn of time, maybe next time when your sipping on your cocktail in Puerto Rico, while your patient is back home scrimping the money together to pay for this new miracle treatment, you might think twice about pushing the new drug on your patient, just "because", remember this is life or death for us, not should I go for the Pina Colada or the Espresso Martini.
I also want to let you know that this like many things, does not apply to every oncologist or drug company, this is just something that has been brought up kore and more by you fabulous readers and it breaks my heart knowing that some of you will die, because a drug is not on the PBS and you simply can't afford this new
"Wonder drug", although whose to say it will even work anyway!
Life over dollar, not dollar over life, it shouldn't be a case of rich or treat, it should be humanity over monetary, just think of how many people may have died, just while you were reading this, because they can't afford treatment, doesn't feel right does it? 💵💸💷💶💰💉
Stay fabulous Rockstars ❤️🤘🏼
Man meets woman or in my parent's case, teenage boy throws advertising sandwich board, 1 metre by 1 metre at teenage girls head he finds attractive, believing this to be some sort of natural mating call, needless to say, this was not the best way to garner the attractive young girl's attention (I mean seriously Dad, what were you thinking? I know you were 16, but even 16 year olds know that pulling girls bra straps isn't a sign of affection and actually throwing a "Sign" at a girls head is not one either).
So let's just say, it was not love at first sight (well for my Mum anyway, as she probably couldn't see from the black eye she would have received from having a large inanimate object propelled at her head, out of love of course), it took another meeting for Mum and Dad to actually start the dating ritual. Mum and Dad were 16 and 17 at the time and both very inexperienced, they'd both had boyfriends and girlfriends, I'm sure, but we're talking kissing behind the bike sheds at school type relationships, the good old kiss and dump, nothing serious, like if it was 2016 neither of them had ever updated their status to "in a relationship".
So Boy and Girl (Peter and Geraldine), quickly become inseparable, they both go to different schools and live in different little country towns in Ireland, but they make it work. Then it happens........Boy and Girl find out they're having a little boy or girl themselves. Poor Geraldine, she must have been petrified, she was on holiday in Canada at the time visiting family and she was constantly feeling ill and one day at the kitchen sink, Geraldine's Mum turns to Geraldine and asks probably every parents worst nightmare of their 17 year old daughter "Is there a chance you could be pregnant?". Now what you also have to remember is, this was the 1980's and my Mum was being brought up in a strict Irish Catholic family, Catholic school girl, Mass every Sunday, weekly confessions, everything from leaving your teabag in the pot too long to leaving the toilet seat up is a mortal sin, we Irish Catholics, do love ourselves a bit of good old religious guilt. The fear of God is instilled in us from no age and the fear of your father well, second to the fear of God "Wait until your father hears this" must be 6 of the scariest words known to any child, let alone a now 17 year old one who thinks she is pregnant (to her long term boyfriend might I add, this was not just a kiss and run, this was a fully fledged, if facebook existed, in a relationship would have been ticked for a long time, type of deal, boy and girl were in luuuuuurve).
Geraldine's mother insists on marching her down to a local pharmacy, to purchase a pregnancy test and low and behold, Geraldine is pregnant, hello future terminally fabulous Lisa Magill.
My future Mum and Dad do the right thing and get married, Mum wears a gorgeous lace curtain design and her sister and cousin wear just as fabulous a lacy blush pink floor length, neck high dress that would make a Sister Wife look like a tart, I'm front row at the wedding (literally, I was in Mum's belly, so I had a belly button view), a few months later, along comes moi, second to probably the chocolate Galaxy Ripple, I like to think I was the best thing to ever happen to my Mum at that point in her life.
Mum and Dad took to marriage like duck's to water and sure they struggled, they lived in Department of Housing, Dad got a Fitter Machinist apprenticeship and Mum would work in the afternoons as a cleaner at a hospital for the physically and mentally disabled, but I never went hungry, I never went undressed and most importantly of all I never went unloved. My parent's could have chosen any number of options when they found out they were pregnant with me and we obviously don't need to go into them, but they didn't, they chose to get permission to marry under age and then move out of home straight away and raise me, they took on the complete responsibility from the first moment that little pink positive sign rocked up and for that I will be forever grateful and proud of my parents. They will be celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary on the 9th of July this year and yes I do like to take credit for being the best match maker in the world, if it weren't for me, these two lovebirds may never have lasted........you can thank me later Mum and Dad.
So we fast forward some 30 odd years and daughter makes the phone call to Mum advising her that her cancer is back and she is effectively dying, WRONG ORDER!!!!!! This is not how it is meant to work, Mum and Dad look after their children until adulthood (well they never really stop at all), your Grandparents start to get greyer, a little slower and start to replace joints in their body.
My poor Grandmother rushed to my bedside from Ireland, along with my Aunty a couple of weeks ago when we had what feels like our 100th scare in palliative care, I've now been told on 3 separate occasions in hospital that I will not be walking out, I will most likely be pushed out on a bed feet first with a discrete sheet pulled over my head, well that's how I imagined it, but apparently you are placed in like a secret hidey hole underneath what looks like a bed, so you wouldn't even know there is a dead body being concealed. My Grandmother is not the bubbly, vivacious woman, with a wickedly dirty sense of humour that she once was, (yet she somehow managed to come across as naïve, that takes skill), she once told me not to spend all my birthday money on porn, to which I informed her you can get all that stuff for free now on the internet, her response "so where does one get this internet thing then?", that was my Gran, I say "was" because sadly old age has started to take her away from me, I don't think she fully understands the gravity of my current situation and in some way I am grateful for this, because I just don't believe she could handle it, for as long as I have known what death means, my Grandmother has been threatening to leave me out of her will (mind you she was only 44 when I was born) and always joking "You'll regret speaking to your grandmother like this, when I'm pushing up the daisies", well here we are again, WRONG ORDER!!!!! There are also the occasions that my Gran will have these moment's of clarity and break down about, why this is happening to me and it's just not right, its not how things are meant to go and this breaks her heart, this bitch of a Cancer is making my Gran cry and that pisses me off.
My poor Grandad, like my brother is a fixer, he still uses a thing called teletext (a thing on the TV, similar to internet that gives news updates, the weather and the like) and occasionally there will be some sort of cancer cure update and he'll rush to the phone and tell me of this new miracle, sadly my Grandad cannot travel due to a heart problem and I know this also breaks his heart that he cannot be by my side, as that's all he really wants, to hug his granddaughter and make it all better, again, WRONG ORDER!!!!!
The biggest WRONG ORDER though is that of parents facing the thought of burying their own child, WRONG ORDER!!!!!! My parent's were meant to age gracefully, get to a stage where although relatively self sufficient, I would have built a granny flat or have a house big enough for us all to live in and I would then proceed to wipe my Mums bum, like she did for me when I was a baby, Mum is not meant to be putting suppositories up her 34 year old daughters butt (note to those out there that may be unlucky enough to ever have to experience a suppository insertion from their Mum, make sure you inform your Mum of the correct technique, I neglected to do so and lets just say it was like 2 nuclear bombs being shoved up there in way too quick a succession that I actually yelped like a dog and believe me I've had many of these before, for Mum to achieve the discomfort level she did, nearly split my ass in half and let's not even go into the fact that she almost missed it completely, for your information, I have since taught her the correct technique and she is now a suppository insertion expert, just like she is a needle giving expert), My Mum and Dad are not meant to be discussing eulogy's and possible burial sites for their daughter, my parents are not meant to be waking in the middle of the night to go and listen to their daughter's bedroom door, to check if she is still breathing, this is not the natural order! These are the things I was meant to be doing for my parents in 25 years time, not the other way around.
My Mum and Dad will eventually only have one child and when people ask them that question, so how many kids do you have? What do they answer? Well we did have 2, but cancer took one away,
Cancer, doesn't give a shit about natural order, it just wants to kill, no matter what age, why should a 1 year old girl die? Why should any parent lose their child? There is no rhyme or reason as to how all this shit works, other than to say it's just the WRONG ORDER!
Stay Fabulous Rockstars and for all of you fabulous people out there, I hope you never have to use the words "IT'S JUST THE WRONG ORDER'! ❤️🤘🏼
How are you going? How's your mum going? How does Ava cope with it all, does she understand what's going on? How does Marianne take it? How's your Nan? How is your auntie taking it? How is Rebecca coping? I don't know if you've noticed the common element here, but when it comes to being asked questions about how people are affected by my cancer, they tend to be directed towards the women in my life, but I believe there is a reason for this and I think it is because it tends to be women, that actually ask the questions about how people around me are being affected by the cancer and this doesn't only apply to cancer, women ask questions about EVERYTHING.
Men are simple creatures really, if a man is on the phone, when he completes his call, you (as a woman and the nosy bitches that we are) will ask how the person on the other end of the phone was? What they're up to? What was he talking about? How their family are? Where have they been lately? How's work going for them? Did they end up going with the floating floor boards or tiles? To which the general response will be, firstly a look of "what the fuck are you talking about woman? It's not the bloody Spanish Inquisition?". Followed by "I don't know and we don't talk about that shit?" - and usually a shrug of the shoulders - What you don't talk about life?
Our response as naturally caring nosy bitches, "what do you mean you don't know? You've just been on the phone to him for 30 minutes and you don't even know if he got over the flu yet or how he's feeling? What do you guys actually talk about? You couldn't have spent the last half an hour talking about last weeks game and how the ref was obviously the other teams supporter, blah blah blah fuckity blah. I told you when you took the call, that your mission was to confirm or deny the rumour that I heard at Pilates this morning from Susie's friend Claire, who knows Mary, who knows Tina, who works at your mates office at reception, who she said she overheard your mate talking to divorce lawyers the other day in his office about divorcing Sarah? (Sarah is the made up wife, of the made up husband, of my made up boyfriend and his made up mate, of this whole made up scenario for dramatic effect, whilst this story may be based on actual events at one point in time, all names have been changed for privacy and legal purposes 😜). As good giving gossipers, we as women always have stories to tell the men in our lives after a convo with our girlfriend (yes, even when we swear on our friendship we won't tell a soul, we always at least tell one, come on, we all do it, you guys just don't admit to it, we can't help it, we are natural "story tellers", not "gossipers", relayers of stories" 😉) and as good "story sharing" bitches, just once we'd like a little bit of return gossip game from the men in our lives, is that too much to ask? I know you've all been there at one point in your lives, looking at your guy, thinking how the fuck do you people actually manage to function in day to day life, if you don't even fucking know if your friend is doing alright?
So this I believe is one of the reasons that the men in my life seemingly go unnoticed when it comes to people asking about how they're affected by my illness, the most obvious reason is they're usual inability to emote, men are meant to be the protectors, the ones who don't cry, the ones who even though they're shit scared of cockroaches, bravely run out in their undies at 11pm at night to eradicate of said cockroach, the one who gets up and goes and checks where that imaginary bump in the night we hear came from, they are our big brave protectors, not mushy, emotional, talk about their feelings wimps.........or do we not give them enough credit? Just because they're not running around practising their crying face in the mirror like we women do, doesn't mean that they don't go into the shower and have a secret man cry.
I for one can only speak about the two closest men in my life and they are my father and my brother, yes I had a bf for 14 years, but now that we are no longer together I don't feel right discussing his emotions without his permission, nor do I really want to (today anyway), to be honest.
My brother Steven, he is what I would call a "thinker", a "fixer", his natural response is to google, investigate, look for answers and that's how he deals (this is purely my opinion, he may think completely different). We've discussed it to a point, the cancer, I mean, there are days that I will just force it down his throat and to his credit, he listens and usually retorts with some sort of uplifting fact or quote, because that's what he does, he "fixes". I can't remember seeing him cry, I'm sure he has, I'm sure he does. You see my brother and I are like any family, we're blood, we don't choose each other, we're genetically placed together and of course we love each other, I for one know I would crawl over broken glass for him, I would die for him, I've always loved him. I was obsessed with him as a kid, I loved holding his hand and I used to sneak into his bed at night as a kid (yeah I know creepy, but we were kids and I was shit scared of the dark and believe me, sleeping with my 4 year old brother was a lot more desirable option to me, than being wedged between Mum and Dad in 30 degree Celsius heat, I'm sorry, but Dad you can sweat! You're a sweat machine!). Our personalities are completely different, there are days we could kill each other and there are days that we are the best people in each other's lives, so I would say, we have a perfectly normal, functioning brother sister relationship.
So if someone was to ask how my brother is? I would say all bravado with a side of shit scared, I know he hates I'm going through this, I know it breaks his heart, he's just unlike women and like most men, he internalises his pain and fear, so for those who want to know, that is my answer, he like the rest of us, is scared, he just may not quite know it yet.
Now when it comes to my Dad, well that breaks my heart! To say he is heartbroken is the biggest understatement of the year, my Dad has continued to work throughout my whole cancer treatment. Work is my dad's way of coping, it's his way of escaping the reality that is our life of cancer.
My poor dad has been treated like a second-class citizen when it comes to my illness over the last four years, not because of myself, my mum, my family or friends, but for another reason that I'd rather not discuss. My dad was basically made to feel like a stranger in his own daughter's life, he was made to feel uncomfortable by my hospital bedside, when he would visit me, it was like he was on the outside looking in and he wasn't allowed in the front door, which for him would have been heartbreaking, as my dad and I always had an incredibly close, loving, honest and caring relationship. When we were kids, Mums work hours were never ending, but Dad had shift work, so more often than not he would be the one who was home first and at the weekends, he was the one that shaved my legs for the first time, while mum was at work, he was the one that told me about periods and pads, while Mum was at work, he was the one I would tell my secrets to, but sadly I allowed outside forces to breakdown our once ironclad relationship, he never once stopped loving me throughout that whole ordeal, but I'm sure there were many a tear cried even pre cancer, because of our broken relationship.
So how is my Dad doing? He is broken, he breaks down at the sight of me in pain, which is often, if he accompanies me to the hospital, he will always cry, he would do anything for me and he does. Our relationship? Well thankfully since moving back home, it is as it was before, a strong, loving relationship, with a mutual respect and admiration for one another that I believe is like no other. Don't get me wrong we still drive each other up the wall with our stubborn, both always have to be right attitude and he still makes a lot of noise, I don't know how one human being can make so much noise, it's like he has bloody bells up his ass and rattlesnakes in his nose, he's constantly rattling, but we love each other and sadly he knows that one day he won't be able to "annoy" me anymore, like he so loves to do.
Just remember Men have feelings too, they're just not bright enough to realise it 😜
Stay fabulous Rockstars ❤️🤘🏼
Two words that hold so much strength, that they are truly the best medicine for a terminally ill person like myself, are hope, hope and the second is Fuck, Fuck you and fuck your little crusade of tumours invading my personal space. Who do you think you are?
You're the elephant in every room I walk into and your the poisonous snake in my body and soul.
You have taken so much of me and my loved ones over the years that I'm surprised we're still standing (well I may be slightly more crouched these days and have a wheelchair, but you get my drift).
You have built is up so many times, only to pull us back down, time and time again. So many have given us hope, even you cancer, you've given us a few occasions there and we believed you, because that's what people in my position do, we look for hope in every little positive, it gives us the strength to continually front up to Iv's pumping toxic liquid into our veins that literally poison our body to the point of non recognition , try new drugs that the side effects are so bad they could potentially kill you or make your cancer worse (been there done that, thanks again Keytruda), go into 10 hour life or death surgeries to be sliced open from ribs to pelvis and be gutted like a fish, whilst our loved ones pace cold hospital hallways praying, it gives us the strength to ignore oncologists who tell us on numerous occasions we won't make it through the night or to Christmas or the EOFY sales (I CANNOT miss out on those!, Hope it helps me deal with the excruciating pain that is cancer on a daily basis it keeps us going.
I am disgusted, saddened and angry, angry that you impact so many people's lives, every second, every minute of every day, you are being introduced to somebody new "Hi, my names cancer and I'm going to put your life on hold for an unspecified or unforeseen amount of time, so please mark you're diary as "stuffed for the unforeseeable future". Cancer does not discriminate, it does not care who you are? Where you're from? How much money you earn? What colour your skin is? What religion you are? Whether you watch antiques roadshow religiously? Whether you go to Mass? Whether you're gay, straight, Bi or transgender? Whether you're a good person or bad? What type of car you drive? All it wants is a warm bed in your body for a while (hopefully it's a short visit, if you ever have to go through it and it doesn't enjoy it's stay and leaves a really bad TripAdvisor review, so that no cancer ever wants to return to your body), in my case for the rest of my life.
Cancer, I hope that you never have to go through what I and millions like me go through every day because of you. Going to bed at night not knowing if you are going to wake up in the morning, paying thousands of dollars a month for medications that make you so violently ill that your 4 bedroom walls or hospital wards are all you see for months on end, the pain of tumours strangling your organs, the pain of major surgeries and probably the worst thing of all is the pain you see in your loved ones eyes knowing they cannot take your pain away and through this harrowing ordeal at the end they are going to lose their 34 year old daughter, sister, Aunty, niece and friend and to this unrelenting disease, no matter what they do!
You are worse than Bill Clinton in a Cigar club, you make me sick to the stomach at the thought of you. I bet you're the type of person who doesn't take their rubbish to the bin in the food court or leaves a trolley right in the middle of a parking spot, plain old selfish.
You know what though Cancer? We've shown you, you thought you had a weak one when you came back to finish me off, but you weren't expecting me and my family to fight back, but we have and we still do, we will until my dying breath!
Those of you who have been reading my blog over the last few days, have probably noticed they've been a bit more angry of late and it was bound to happen at some point and although the drugs account for a large part of my mood swings, I also have to take ownership for my lack of patience and increased resentment over the past weeks, I mean I've been pretty good up until this point at controlling my emotions when it comes to you Cancer and you know what? I've woken up this morning with a renewed vigour, granted, it's probably the drugs and by 9am I'll probably resent and despise you again, but my plan today is to stick two fingers up at you and get dressed up in warm clothes, because it's actually raining here today and only going to reach 20 degrees Celsius and although my new size 10-12 maternity jeans (yes I've been a size 4 since they made a size 4, just another adjustment in cancer life and now I'm wearing maternity jeans and I'm not even pregnant) won't close because of my drug and tumour fluid induced belly, I will find something to wear that is equally as a stylish and I will rock it to lunch with my friend, where we will talk shit for hours and forget about cancer for a while, because although you have been taking over lately, I'm not going to let you today.
I am going to go out with my bloated face, body and confused and disorientated mind and I will rock that shit, chauffeured by my Father of course as I cannot drive from my drugs and pain.
Cancer you're a fuckwit, but you're my fuckwit and I just have to accept that, so let's forget the fact today that I have tumours in the 20's in my abdomen and pelvis, let's forget the fact that I'm "dying", let's forget the fact that you exist and I'm going to have a wine, (at lunch I mean) cheers everybody and I hope your weekend is as memorable as I plan on mine being, totally fucking awesome!
Stay fabulous you Rockstars, today is my day and I will seize it soaking wet in the rain ❤️🌟✨🚺♿️
Ps. My blog has become so much more to me than just an online diary, all thanks to you my fabulous Rockstars, it is cathartic and to know that sometimes it may bring comfort to those in their hour of need, makes me feel like we are achieving something greater than the cancer, so there's another two fingers up to you cancer, I'm writing about you and it's making me feel good, I bet that was never part of your plan either 🖕🏼🖕🏼
My name is Lisa Magill and I have been navigating the minefield that is cancer since just months after turning 30, people have been saying to me for years that I should put my thoughts into writing and as time has progressed I thought I had left it too late, well here we are nearly 4 years in and for some unknown reason I've decided to start to write today.