After hair loss, Weemo and Golum impersonation, I am pissed right off to tell you that my chemo isn't working!!! All those trips the chemo day unit full of Chemo-Nan's, Pirates of the Caribbean head scarf catwalks and a parade of every wig from Priscilla queen of the desert; was a waste of time. I did get free sweets and some 'me' time away from the kids but bollocks!!!! I could have been sky-diving with Tom Hardy on my back or knitting or eating crisps and if that's not bad enough, lady C is no longer in the jungle! What a fucking week I've had!!!!
This wasn't meant to be the post i was going to write. I was going to tell you about friendship and taking an emergency poo in a car park but that will have to wait as there is an urgency to why I'm writing this.
It's all change people, all change. It's not the end of the line but there are engineering works here and we need to change trains and pretty fucking quickly.
See, I'm clearly off my game this week as I've just used a train analogy? Uh what? Fist yourself!
See I'm pretty mad right now. And every other emotion you can think of. I'm not mad at any person. I am mad with Voldertit. It's not that I liked him before but now I want to gouge out his eyes and eat them like lollly pops.
I had a follow up Onlocolgy appointment last week with my lovely Oncologist (see I told you I think you're great Dr P so please don't slip Cyanide into my next treatment) and we have concluded that's AC isn't working to a satisfactory level. Now ordinarily we would now switch treatments immediately and thus I'd be having the next stuff on Friday 4th December along with a miracle drug called Herceptin.
However, me being me, I don't like to make things easy for people and we have this little matter of baby Chocolate Mousse.
Babies and Herceptin don't mix.
It's like when you offer a Vegan-non-dairy human a pork scratching. You know they really need it but if they did take it their soul would explode. See, I've done it again. That was a really crap analogy. This news has thrown me all off.
So, the shit-uation. Chocolate mousse will be 27 weeks gestation tomorrow and the plan is to evacuate the Death Star next Friday. That puts Chocolate mousse at 28 weeks and 1 day.
Why is the 1 day important? Because in premature baby terms every day counts.
This means CM will be 12 weeks early. This my friends is absolutely terrifying.
Also what is terrifying is that if I stay pregnant until New Year's Eve as originally planned then there's a pretty good chance I've missed my window of potential cure.
So what the hell do you do in this boat? Personally I want to row for shore and hide under a palm tree, burn my bald head and read my kindle while this all blows over. Realistically I've got to make a decision that encompasses everyone. I absolutely need to be here for my children and to keep Scouse from continuing to wear socks that have been worn down so much they resemble flip flops.
I need to continue to give chocolate mousse the best chance I can. The baby was kept for a reason and that reason hasn't changed. Our baby is worth the risk.
But I'm scared to my core about a baby born so early. I am also scared that I may not get through this. Mostly I'm scared of doing the wrong thing and I kick myself every day that I can't pull a crystal ball out of my ass.
I'm making by far the hardest decision of my life and it would appear Chocolate Mousse will be here first thing on Friday 11th December.
So it would seem that there is no 'I' in team but there's defiantly a 'U' in Cunt, Voldertit.
In the mean time we are rushing to sort Christmas, preparing for Pojee's birthday and remaining steadfastly hooked to watching celebrities chopping on Kangaroo cock.
I'm sorry I've not been very funny this week but I do hope you'll give me a break and come back again.
I've got cancer.............get me out of here!