Terminally Fabulous, you've made my life unique, you certainly have opened my eyes to the strong and the weak. I started this blog under a little duress, not to say that anyone can make me do anything I do not want to do........believe me, those days are gone, gone are the days where I would go clothes shopping and think to myself " I couldn't wear that, "Casanova" (let's call my ex Casanova today, I'm feeling rather exotic) would lock me in a room in a dungeon filled with moths, until those little suckers had eaten the said please of clothing into non existence......ok......perhaps this is a little exaggerated, he was too cheap for that, he would have just went on and on at me about how slutty it looks and made me feel like a disgusting excuse for a woman, until I returned it, but you get the drift.
You wanna know the fucking irony of it all? I had a grade A fantastic bunch of coconuts, yes they all stood in a row, more than a handful, but not too much, pretty good nipple/areola to boob ratio, but of course they were never allowed out to breathe in public. Now I look at the limited photos I have of my pre-cancer jugs with envy and a longing, even though I haven't had breast cancer, my poor boobs have gone through the ringer with all the weight loss and gain I've had during treatment and surgeries, they've literally been empty sacks of sagging skin to size 10-12 EE, my natural size was and always had been 8DD-E, pretty good for a 5 ft nothing 44kg chick, if I do say so myself! They've had more name changes, religion changes, career changes and size and shape changes than that Kate Fischer or Zephfriggingdilawullaphora from "Celebrity" Get Me Out of Here has had, they've gone from Swedish milkmaid to the bottle in the fridge door with a dribble of milk left in the bottom that nobody wants to drink. When I reluctantly take my top off (remember I have empty sacks of skin for boobs and a belly that resembles a 6 month pregnant skeleton, so the image looking back at me is the worst one yet and blah blah blah, I get it......the old "but you're still here" brigade start chiming in, I love you, but please kiss my sagging skinny ass whilst I complain about it, it is after all a woman's prerogative and beyond all of this terminal cancer shit, I like to think I'm at least still one of those. So upon my reluctance to take my own top off I have a tendency to hear the Aussie version of the song "I've been everywhere Man" playing as I disrobe and believe me they have! They've been up, they've been down, they've been dragged along the ground, they've seen east and west-at the same time-no less and the most talented skill of them all, would be their resilience to it all. Yes they may look strange and yes they may be wrinkly, but fuck they're tough little buggers and for that I salute you, my wrinkly, slightly unidentical twin boobs, because even through it all, the left one may still be a little bigger than the right, but at least I still have them, when so many others have lost them in the fight!
Now as usual I have gone completely off track, when I write that I was "forced" into writing the blog, it is more that I was convinced. I had a whole jinx thing going on in my Irish jinx guilt ridden head that if I start a blog it might hurry my process along, I know it's a weird thought to have. I suppose I was concerned that bringing attention to my illness, would bring other people with cancer or terminal illness to MY attention and did I really want to get to know people that had the same fate as me? Make friends with people that were inevitably going to die and remind me that I was dying too. Consoling family members that were losing or lost their loved one or consoling both patient and loved ones just dealing with this shit fullstop when I don't even know how to deal with it myself. You start a blog and people sometimes think you're some sort of authority on the topic matter. Believe me, just because Gwenyth Paltrow posts a paleo raw chocolate cake on her blog, does not mean that she sources the ingredients, technique and recipe and the thought that someone may write to me asking for advice about really personal and medical matters, scares the shit out of me. I always tell people that I'm not an expert, I don't have a psychological or medical degree, so I never would give advice that could get you or I in trouble, but any thoughts I do give are my own and I give them with love and hopefully they leave you feeling more heard and less confused and ignored.
I started writing this blog today because the fear I had about starting the Terminally Fabulous blog last February and it making me accept my reality and face the pure scariness of it all has come to fruition. I've made friends with strangers, we've built a community that supports one another and in doing this I've let my walls down, in turn allowing this disease in and reminding me whose boss. As much as I want to stomp around acting like this cancer is my bitch, it's not, I am it's bitch and as the disease progresses, the tighter the restraints get. I spend most of my days at home waiting for appointments that are basically the same meetings on replay, I sleep sitting up (I haven't lay down in at least 4 months, bedsores are becoming a common fixture now, sitting on my tailbone is like sitting on blades of glass) when my disease lets me, I go out when my disease lets me, I eat when my disease lets me digest food and the list goes on, the disease dictates my days.
I'm writing today from a place of inevitable sadness, the fear of losing those I've connected with has started to become a reality, no longer a fear, it's happening. People who've had terminal cancer the same or a similar length of time to myself are dying around me, we've been each other's supporters and listened to each other's fears and now we're starting to drop like flies, the stuff that we've spoken about as if it was in the third person, it couldn't really be about us.....could it? We're too young, we've achieved nothing, we're good people, stuff like this happens to bad people, not a married man in his 40's with growing children and a penchant for a nip of Jack Daniels and long Sunday drives with their wife, nooooooo this happens to people who drink a bottle of jack a day, cheats on their wife on a drunken Sunday drive and doesn't give a fuck who they hurt, not us. I know we're not suppose to say, "this isn't meant to happen to us and we're not meant to say things like bad things should happen to bad people" and the truth is we don't believe that, we wouldn't wish this on our worst enemies, but sometimes we get so sick, so scared, so sad, that we say things we don't mean and having each other to say these things to in a safe environment, without feeling judged or wrong, is a large part of why we're there for each other.
I'm so sad to have lost another friend, a friend whom I have never met, I'm so sad for his family and friends, those that were in his life every day, not just at the end of a beep on a phone. These are the people that don't sleep at night fearing a phone call at 3am telling them their loved one has lost the fight, the ones that are at the hospice at 8am and don't leave until 10pm, wiping their husbands backside, feeding them, wiping the sweat from their pain riddled brows, watching them deteriorate and writhe in pain before them, I honestly don't know whether either side of the cancer gamut is easier than the other, they both suck hairy toe knuckles.
I've known a few people now that have passed away through the blog and at the end of the day I suppose I can't write about all of the fairy floss unicorn moments and ignore the more lifetime movie part moments that happen, whether I write about it or not, THIS is my reality, nothing can or will change that now, just like the people I have met through the blog, I am dying, just like them, no amount of pretending that I'm not will change that. I hate this disease, I hate that it's killing my friends and strangers and I've had enough of thinking about it today, stay Fabulous Rockstars ❤🤘🏼
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.