Uno-bap the Robot

Happy Easter just autocorrected to 'happy raster.' Made me laugh.

Anyway..............

A few weeks ago someone I know who also lost their beloved daughter in the latter part of last year said to me that he'd looked around himself recently and wondered when it had become lighter? 

What he meant was that when his daughter had died it had been winter and that time had stopped at that point. He'd now suddenly realised that the nights and mornings were becoming lighter and that he'd lost all concept of time. 

It was at that point that I wondered the same thing. Where has the time gone and also how does the earth keep turning at the point your world implodes? It's very much like that grandfather clock in that song about the old man. When he died, the clock stopped. 

But it's only your clock that stops....everyone else's keeps ticking along. Everyone else keeps going. 

That's because they have too. 

That is the way of the world.

We now find ourselves in Spring and with spring comes many things. The little bulbs that have been shivering below the surface push through into the unknown showing us their beauty, all the pastey vampires like myself now have to reveal a little more translucent skin and the kids go off the fucking dial when the clocks go forward. 

But nothing beats Easter!!! 

The chocolate from Christmas has started to melt and reform into some unrecognisable blobs that are half diary milk half tin foil and there's something unsettling about biting off a chocolate snow mans head at the end of March.

 It's time to bring in the eggs!!! 

Why is it eggs we give at Easter? Well eggs are a symbol of new life. 

Spring is full of new life. It's all around us. It's time for a change.

So let me tell you about something that's changed for me...

I am now operable!!!!! 

I can have Voldertit removed! 

I can become UNO-BAP!!! 

You might be scratching your heads here for several reasons. I understand. 

'Wasn't she always going to have her bad-bap removed?' 

'Why is someone so happy to have their boob whipped off?'

'Why can't she think of any other funnier word for her fun-bags?'

Well, I never told you but after Ally was born, Voldertit was so strong, so big, so out of control that it wasn't looking good for me. Inflammatory Breast Cancer  has to be shrunk with chemo before it can be removed and my chemo didn't work so it was looking like Voldertit had won. Then Lung nodules were discovered and I stepped up to stage 4 as a result (I'll never be cured, cancer will always live with me but it'll be hiding in that cupboard that no one ever opens for fear of all the shit falling everywhere) and aggressive treatment began to buy me as much time on this turning planet as possible. 

It is not a given to have a mastectomy with IBC, it's something you hope for.

This month was always going to be that milestone we dreaded but it's been and gone and the boat is a pretty good one. 

I rocked up for a CT scan whereby I was handed a large jug of dye contrast to drink. It was bad. I was gagging as it tastes foul. I'd eaten bugger all, all morning in preparation and Scouse was next to me chomping on a double decker ( my favourite). I looked around for the nearest toothpick that I could stick under his finger nails so he'd scream and subsequently drop the Chocolate bar into my wide drooling grid. 

There weren't any! Dam the NHS and their cutbacks!! 

I then went for a Breast MRI. This was where you flop your tits into two holes whilst lying face down on a gurney and you're squeezed into a tunnel. Then an IV floods your body with 'Gadolinium.' It's a rare-earth metal with the atomic number 64. 

What the hell does that mean right? Who knows but I'm lying there practically converting to Robot status.

The noise of the machine is like a repetitive twang at a million decibels and honestly after listening to it for what felt like eternity I swear it sounded like DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE. Honestly!! It made my 'chemical self' start chuckling away at the irony. All the shit I've been through to this point and the scanner which indicates the progress of my illness is telling me I'm screwed!!! The cheek! 

I am one pissed off Robot and immediately steal Bender from Futuramas line and utter to the scanner 'bite my shiny metal ass'. 

As I am now 80% the chemical element GD, I walk out of the hospital and up the hill towards the car. 

Spring is very much in the air. I notice I'm not wearing a coat and I feel warm. When did that happen? 

My companion nods discreetly in the direction of a rather large lady walking towards us from a distance who is wearing jeans with holes in and mutters something along the lines of 'I always think large people who wear holey jeans look like they've 'exploded' them. You know, kind of like the 'Incredible Hulk'. 

'Yes' I say as I'm mentally throwing my holey jeans in the bin. These steroids have made my legs in 'holey jeans' look like a play-dough fat factory. Good times. 

I go in for chemo number 8 and I'm told that after reviewing my scans with the surgeon I can now have my rotten, malfunctioning cahoona removed!!! AND my lymph nodes are bloody well clear!! The chemo blasted them good and proper. If we ignore the lung nodules crap then this is fantastic so I'm taking this as a victory in this battle. 

I've never cared about what this shit storm will do to my looks so having wonky or no baps does not bother me at all. 

Hell I'd surgically attach a penis to my nose and call myself Nellie the Elephant if it would help save my life. 

So see you later tit! You can hang in the bin with my hair, my previous size 12 body and my old untraumatised bumhole.  

So Let's embrace the change that Spring brings us. Let's eat chocolate til we barf and let's keep as strong as we can without morphing into Robots. 

And to my cancer.... Slide down my fist!

(The most up to date Bucket and Spade list