Pregnant people suck [part 3294283443 of why I'm going to Hell].

Disclaimer: I think everyone sucks, pregnant people are just who pissed me off today. Apologies if that offends you.

Anyway.

Pregnant people piss me the fuck off [another reason I'm headed straight to Hell]. 

Cooking a small human inside you does not automatically make you more important than all the other big humans around you. If anything - the way I see it - it should indebt you to the big humans around you since we [the big humans] are the ones who will undoubtedly pay for your childcare reimbursements, your hospital stays and god knows what else via our taxes. When you or your kid gets sick, it's my tax money that will pay your "sick benefit" or whatever the hell it is that Centrelink recently introduced. On top of that - if you're the shitcunt that I imagine you are [and honestly I don't doubt that you are], it's my tax that will pay for EVERYTHING ELSE in your childs life since you probably wont bother to get a job, since now you have an excuse not to.

All that judgement aside, I have other legitimate [I feel] reasons to hate pregnant people. 

Last weekend I fell down and dislocated my knee + sprained my ankle [I don't believe in doing things in halves]. I had most of this week off work, but I did drag my ass in a few days because I'm a responsible motherfucker and I didn't want the people I work with to be screwed. On those days I dragged my ass in, I caught an express bus into the city and miraculously managed to get a seat. I WAS SO RELIEVED. I can barely stand and when I do it literally sends wave after wave radiating from my big toe to my hip.. it is INTENSE. 

Anyway I get two stops from where I got on and this woman who claimed to be pregnant but might have actually just been fat gets on, comes and stands infront of me and just STARES at me expectantly. I stared back for a moment, after which she raises her eyebrows and kind of.. flicks her gaze toward the aisle, you know what I mean, right? Bitch is literally DISMISSING me from 'her' seat, without saying A WORD. On top of that, I'm not even sitting in the "Priority Seating" area [aka where you're supposed to vacate for elderly, pregnant or disabled people].

I'm not even sure what to do at this point, like.. she is clearly out of line, right? I [gingerly because it FUCKING HURTS] get up and start to hobble out of the seat at which point she barges into me, shoving me onto the aisle where I almost fall down because I can't put weight on my left leg. 

I want to say that I said something or stood up for myself, and even right now I'm sitting here completely tempted to make something up about a snarky comment I made which ensured me a round of applause from the rest of the bus, but in honesty I just limped to the back of the bus and stood there, feeling blood trickle from where she'd opened some of the cuts on my knee, trying not to cry.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I fucking hate pregnant women. The sense of entitlement. The feeling that since she has so capably spread her legs and managed to procreate she is suddenly better than those of us who are not currently bearing the children of what can undoubtedly only be a toothless, rattail having, Woolworths shelf-packer who spends his days in singlet, shorts and flannies. 

Don't get me wrong all pregnant women aren't that bad, but even the pregnant women I LIKE give me the shits. Things like inviting me to a baby shower and expecting me to play stupid games that involve toilet paper, or ANY food housed in a babies nappy, or bedazzling or scrapbooking.. I mean, jesus christ, I'm getting a head ache already. 

ON TOP OF THAT. Everyone struggles to sleep! The fact that the reason you can't sleep is because your cum-fruit keeps kicking you in the rib doesn't make you any more entitled to a nap in the lunch room than me, who didn't sleep because I had some insane Mexican food last night. 

Anyway, I could keep going because GOT DAMN do I hate pregnant people, but I feel as though I'm already likely to wake up tomorrow morning to a million pregnant pension mums bearing pitchforks and screaming for my blood.

Instead, I'm going to go enjoy a nice cold vodka. Which I can do. Because there is no cum-goblin in my womb. Score!

xx. A.  

Religious Holidays, chocolate, and I'm going to Hell.

I'm the first person to admit that if there IS a hell, I'll be working on my tan down there, hanging with Hitler, chillin' with Caesar.. I'm sure there'll be heaps of interesting people and where there's people there's food and goddamn do I love me a good buffet. 

I do lots of things that would earn me my room down there. I'm 25, unmarried and living with two guys. The last time I saw the inside of a church was one that had been refurbished into a Pancake Manor. I spend hours on my appearance every week. I have a massive online presence and am incredibly self aware. I don't donate to charity as often as I could or should. The list goes on and on.. However, I feel like the absolute coup de grace has to do with religious holidays and the way I choose to celebrate them. As such -- for ease of access [assuming the G man exists and wants a bit of a cheat sheet] -- I figured I'd share with my audience the way I celebrate the [few] religious holidays I even know about.

1. Easter [and thus inspiration for this post]. Easter has something to do with Jesus becoming a Zombie in a cave as far as I know and as far as I know there wasn't ANY chocolate involved [Zombies eat brains not bunnies, duh] and yet my method of celebrating this holiday is by gorging myself on Cadbury Creme Eggs and eating bunnies ears-first. Depending on the year I'll also add in a generous sleep in [not this year though, Top 100 Songs of the 90s!!].. which I feel MIGHT redeem me, since before Jesus apparently became a Zombie he was dead.. and death is kinda like sleeping.. right? Winner?

2. Christmas. I know a little bit more about the religious side of Christmas but I'd be lying if I said 90% of my knowledge didn't come from Christmas Carols I heard The Wiggles singing during Carols in the Domain. So apparently, baby Jesus was born in a stable because Mary and Joseph didn't book ahead and just expected there to be a room available on Christmas Eve. I mean, really? Anyway, some old dudes came and gave some super weird gifts [what the hell even IS Merr?], a little drummer boy played his drum [which I don't understand EITHER because every baby I've ever met has been super sensitive to noise, not to mention new mothers who are a whole nother species as far as I can tell].. and yeah, that's about it.

As far as I can tell we're supposed to go to Church Christmas Eve [or that's what was happening in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, anyway..], then again Christmas morning, and then again later in the day.  We're supposed to pray and eat bread and sing songs and spend time with family.

Now, what ACTUALLY happens is that I spend months leading up to Christmas spending money I can't really afford on presents, gift wrapping them for vanity sake, planning my outfit and makeup [also for vanity sake]. I watch Carols in the Domain Christmas Eve [which I guess is kinda like Church so maybe a winner there], I wake up and eat bacon and eggs and then open/give presents. Once I've made a huge mess of the living room, I take a nap til lunch when I wake up, gorge myself some more, get drunk and .. honestly the rest of every Christmas since I was 18 is a blur so I'm not sure what happens after that point.

Welp.

I just spent 10 minutes sitting here trying to think of another religious holiday and while I'm sure they exist I can't remember any, so lets just say that if there ARE any I probably abuse them in much the same manner as the above.

In conclusion, assuming there is a G-man, and a Hell. I'd like a room with a view, and if possible I'd prefer not to have to share with anyone. Thanks in advance!

xx. A.

Magical Teleporting Teeth. You read it right. MAGIC.

So, for the first time in god only knows how long, I went to the dentist yesterday. Dentists are people I've always had a weird sort of fear of, not because of the drills or the yanking of teeth or the weird gloves and face masks.. just because I always feel like they're judging me. Better than me because I might forget to brush before bed, and because I don't really understand flossing [though I try, valiantly!] and it really does seem like such a simple concept but seriously HOW the FUCK does it work? And god knows why else.

Anyway this fear led to years and years of me avoiding them and getting more and more fearful because of course, the longer I didn't go, the worse I thought my teeth were getting. I was quite literally shaking while sitting in the waiting room.

Enter Trent the Dentist. Trent the Dentist was the nicest, most laid back [and yet professional - you don't want a casual dentist fucking with your teeth in the same way you don't want a casual beautician waxing your girly bits] guy I've met in a super long time. For one, obviously, he asked me to call him by his first name. He was super friendly and made a bunch of stupid jokes that made me feel instantly more comfortable, and on top of that, he seemed to have a genuine love for what he was doing and took the time to explain it as he went, so there was no scary instruments or fingers coming at me out of the blue.

Basically it was the greatest medical experience I've had in my life, and lets face it, I've had a damned lot of those. 

Anyway meeting Trent the Dentist was not the greatest part of this visit. Finding out that I have MAGICAL FUCKING TEETH was the greatest part. Magical Teeth, you ask, how can teeth be magical, Amy? Well, dear reader, let me explain. The last time I saw a dentist was because my wisdom teeth were starting to break through and were pressing on my back teeth and causing me a HUGE amount of pain. However, old-dentist was freaking expensive and I couldn't afford to have them removed, so he just gave me a pain prescription and I went on my merry way, drinking liberally to make the meds work faster/better.

5 or so years later I go to meet Trent the Dentist and he asks about my wisdoms. I mention I think they went back down because they hadn't caused me any trouble in ages, he looks confused and orders an xray. Xray completed... MY WISDOM TEETH ARE GONE. VANISHED. LITERALLY NO WHERE TO BE FOUND. Magical teleporting teeth. Trent the Dentist even ordered additional Xrays and an OCG [whatever that is] under the assumption that maybe the first one had missed something. Nope. I just have MAGICAL FUCKING TEETH. My wisdom teeth teleported from my head -- I don't know where to -- maybe they're living it up on a beach in Hawaii somewhere right now, talking about the old days when they'd torture me while I tried to sleep.

And you thought YOU were cool.. Psh. 

xx. A.

Emokid post of the month.

Being single is hard. Anyone who says otherwise is freaking insane. Either that or they've never been in a real relationship before to understand what it is they're missing.

Even the worst of relationships have things that - once they're over - will be missed. The way she cooked scrambled eggs, for example, or the way he made you feel comfortable about yourself even if you hadn't showered in days and were wearing some grungy pajamas with a hole in the thigh. It's things like that that you never really let go of, the small things.

Smaller than that, even.. Having someone to chat to after a long day at work, a friendly face at the end of the day, not having to make every decision on your own, not eating every dismal meal from a box especially designed for pathetic lonely people such as yourself. Knowing someone will always tell you you look fantastic even when you don't. Having someone who will make exceptions for you, because you are you and they don't need any reason other than that.

I am so incredibly grateful to K&N for letting me stay with them because honestly I don't think I could handle living alone right now. I'm a fairly self sufficient person and I like my space and my "me time", but I'm slowly going insane due to an abundance of "me time".  I find myself doing things like immediately folding laundry once it's out of the dryer or actually CLEANING my room by choice rather than necessity. Anything that will distract from the pit of cold that sits at the bottom of my stomach, clenching and unclenching.

Things like grocery shopping, which I used to do online rather than going to the store myself, have become hours-long activities that I look forward to.. which is amusing really, since for the most part all I ever come home with is frozen meals for one and Coke Zero.

I'm lonely, I guess. And I never noticed it so much before but living alone [more or less] really hammers it home. I do have K&N but unless they specifically invite me to spend time with them I try not to intrude. They're like, the perfect couple - all wrapped up in an adorable pink love-bubble and I almost feel as though I'm stealing from them anytime I take any of their time that could have otherwise be spent with one another. Don't get me wrong, neither of them act that way, it's just a weird paranoia or something I guess. I'm bad at being the third wheel.

Which is amusing really, since I spent what, 3 years being Bec and Sali's third wheel? I guess - like I said - you don't really know what you're missing until you've experienced it yourself.. nowadays when I'm around couples I just want to either a. strangle them or b. get the hell away.

I really need to start getting back into my writing as I hear having a hobby is "the go" for painfully single women who don't want to become crazy cat ladies [I'm really much more of a dog person :(].

Anyway it's about bedtime, I think. This has been another emokid post by yours truly!

xx. A.

Busy life is busy!!

Wow, I can't believe I haven't written for the entire month of February! My dad just sent me a Facebook message saying "How's it going" so I guess that means I am more than overdue for a new blog!

Soooo, life! I've been slowly recovering from the trauma placed on my body last year. I'm getting every cold, flu, infection, etc under the sun, but I'm also -- very slowly -- starting to have more energy, having less 15-hour-sleep marathons, starting to get out and do things with my friends.. honestly? I'm feeling great!

I made a promise to myself, toward the end of my radiation, that I was going to start to 'live life' more than I ever have. And while I've definitely been taking it one step at a time, I'd like to think I've been having a fairly solid crack at it!

I've been working almost everyday [with the exception of staying home to nurse whatever cold, flu, infection, etc my lack-of-immune-system hasn't protected me from this week] which has led to me feeling a lot more productive and pulled me out of the almost-depression I was in. My work life is amazing. I love my boss, I love my job. I love the people who work with me [mostly..]. I feel as though this is a place where I fit in, and I am appreciated. Some days I have to drag myself out of bed, force myself to shower and almost crawl to the bus stop, but by midday - after an hour or two - I feel better just for BEING there and DOING something other than sitting in bed feeling sorry for myself and whatever illness I have this week.

I've also been getting out a lot! Last weekend I stayed at my twin, Karens house and had an absolute blast. Hours upon hours of shoe/clothes shopping [I managed to not buy anything, but I lovelovelove being a fashion consultant! haha] in a mall that is quite literally bigger than my hometown. Lots of geeking out. AIR CONDITIONING. Sushi Train, Wagamamas, MEXICAN FOOD! Seriously, this woman feeds me better than any person on the planet ever has [except maybe my dad, who makes a wicked baked dinner].

This weekend I went to a BBQ at Karens boyfriends sisters, who I'll be house sitting for while they all abandon me in favour of a 2 week cruise to New Zealand and back! I'm really looking forward to it because - once again - AIR CONDITIONING! woohoo! haha. But yeah, BBQ was amazing - great food, great wine, great company! We ended the night off watching a few episodes of The Mentalist and playing a spot of WoW.

Then, last night I went to the Albion Comedy Club for Karlees birthday. One of the comedians was only 17 or so and was discussing the various rites of passage into manhood among different cultures. He joked that last week he had opened a jar of salsa in ONE TWIST and therefore, among Australians, was now a man. I almost wet myself. Maybe you had to be there. Anyway it was going quite well and I was enjoying a fabulous meal of Beef and Guineas [spelling?] pie, mashed potato & salad, when the power to the ENTIRE BLOCK went out! We waited about 45 minutes and the room gradually got hotter and hotter to the point where makeup was literally running down peoples faces in little rainbow rivulets. Eventually the announcer got up and said that the show had to be cancelled but gave everyone free tickets to come back another night. All in all, not too bad and I got 2 tickets when I had only originally paid for 1. Score!

Anyway this blog has definitely been all over the place. I'm off to do a bit of cleaning seeing as my room was spotless last weekend and in just 5 days is covered in clothes again.. typical. Anyway, here are some pictures from the last few weeks!

xx. A.

What a long, strange trip it's been.

I've started to write this entry about 3 times now and I keep tripping over my words or not quite expressing things the way I want to and it's so frustrating. I had my last treatment on Friday [yesterday] -- I'm 'unofficially' in remission. Of course I'll have to wait on some test results to make sure everything is done, but as far as my doctor is concerned [again, unofficially], I'm out of the woods.

I don't know how I feel. Exhausted primarily, but with undertones of pride, happiness, and hope. I was so scared throughout the last four months -- I'm 25, 25 year olds are supposed to have God complexes, fast cars and a drinking problem, not a life endangering illness. I didn't have it as bad as half the people in my group therapy circle, but I felt as though I was most in danger. Surely if I - at such a young age - could manage to be afflicted with something so deadly, it was a sign and I might not make it. I've never been so afraid in my life. Every cough, every rash, every headache felt like I was teetering on the edge.

But I made it. I fought hard and while I felt - so many times - that I couldn't go on, I refused to give up and here I am.

The credit for this doesn't all belong to me, though. I have some fantastic friends and family. People who forced me to have the strength I needed, and when I ran out, lent me theirs. I love you all so much and I doubt I'll ever be able to repay the great debt I owe, but I will try. These are people who have got up in the middle of the night to give me pain medicine, because I couldn't manage it myself. People who have forced me to get to hospital, even on days when it felt like I might have to crawl to make it to the bus stop. People who have cleaned my house and done my laundry. People who have called -- even though they have nothing new to say -- just because they know I'm lonely and need company. People who have been there for late night ranting and crying... I couldn't have asked for a better support network if I tried.

Anyway, looking to the future. I have high hopes. I'm not sure what life holds in store for me, but I will meet whatever it is head held high, knowing there is nothing anyone could throw at me that I can't handle or work through. This blog has been a huge help to me throughout this journey, and now I hope will help me move forward and grow, and heal.

On a slightly less serious note, I have to say: I'm disappointed that 2010 doesn't end in an "ee" sound, so I can't sound cool when I say "Cancer free since 2010".. "Cancer free since 2003" sounds so much cooler. FML. lol.

All my love,
xx. A.

A night of questions.

I'm finding that -- as my "I'm sick while I'm sick" days go on -- my sleeping schedule is getting even more messed up than it ever has been before. Sometimes I just wont sleep at all because I can't stop coughing, other times I'll sleep 16 hours straight [exhausted after all that coughing and not sleeping]. At any rate, tonight [last night] was looking to be another sleepless one and I found the most fantastic waste of time/way to pass the time.

It's a website called Formspring and basically it's just a platform to ask and answer questions. Some of them are pretty ridiculous but some actually inspired a bit of thought on my part and some careful answers.. I thought, seeing as I spent the night writing [when I intended to blog] I might crosspost a few of the questions that I thought were particularly interesting or thought provoking. Feel free to duck over there and ask anything, also! You can sign up or be completely anonymous, which appears to be something of great appeal to lots of people.

If you had a genie that could grant you three wishes, what would they be? (excludes wishing for more wishes)
This one is hard. I want to believe I'd be selfless and wish for things like world peace, ending world hunger, etc, but honestly with the way my life has gone the last year or so I feel like if I don't give myself the edge, nobody will. Life certainly isn't going to do me any favours.

1. I'd wish for good health for myself and my loved ones. Fantastic health even. I'd never want to experience even the common cold again.

2. Financial security. Not Bill Gates security, but I'd want atleast enough that I could pay out all my and my loved ones debts, buy a house and stuff to fill it and invest the rest and live off the proceeds of that investment if I chose to.

3. Amazing luck. I want to be the kind of person who is always just in the right place at the right time. I want to win random movie tickets, cruises, meet up with friends I didn't know were in town! I'd just want to be a Lucky person -- I feel like that would translate to being a happy person. Also, nothing bad ever happens to lucky people so I feel like this wish is effectively protecting me from anything really terrible, for the rest of my life.

How would you describe your personality?
I have in the past been described as a personality chameleon. I find it very easy to read people and to adjust myself and my personality to reflect what I think they want.

I think a nicer way of putting this is that I'm quite charismatic.

If you were going to be stranded on a desert island and could only bring five things and five people (any era, living or dead), what/who would they be?
People:
- My dad [he's good at building stuff and someone would have to make a shelter]
- Gail [dad would be lonely without her]
- Karen [she's my twin and I'd be bored without her].
- McGuyver [I don't care if he's not real].
- Probably someone random based on what week it was and who I was chatting with a lot at the time.

Stuff:
- A boat.
or, if I wasn't going to be a smartass.
- Waterproof matches.
- Rope.
- A hugeass freaking packet of Nurofen.
- My iPod.
- One of those nifty sun-powered iPod chargers. ;)

What happens to the things you imagine once you forget them?
That's a fantastic question.

I like to think they swim around somewhere in the back of your mind, waiting for you to remember even glimpses of them.. but maybe they're just gone forever. That's a fantastic reason to write everything down, if nothing else.

What are two things standing in your way of writing a book? What are two things pushing you in the right direction of writing a book?
Two things to stop me writing:
- The fear of failure/not completing it/it being really terrible and nobody wanting to read it.. I guess, fear, in general.
- Time. Writing is a huge commitment. I feel like if I had a laptop I'd be more likely to write more often because I wouldn't have to sit down in my office and do nothing else - I could be inspired ANYWHERE. Maybe that's something to add to the wishlist..

Two things pushing me to write:
- My family and their lack-of-acceptance for excuses about why I'm NOT writing a book. <3
- The need to compete with 15-year-old me.

What does fifteen-year-old you have that you don't? What doesn't she have that you do have?
She is blind to the way the world sees her. She believes in her writing with a faith only someone who has never been told "no" can have.

She lacks the experience I have now. The strength of will and determination.

Do you believe in free will, or are we all just puppets of the laws of physics and chemistry etc?
I believe life is like a choose-your-own-adventure Goosebumps book. Everything is pre-written but the decisions you make along the way guide you to one of many pre-decided endings.

So I guess I believe in free-will to a degree. You can decide to go to the beach or not to go to the beach, but the outcome -- either way -- is predertermined and leads to yet another series of decisions that have already been written.


... anyway I thought some of it was interesting. I'm so addicted to this website now, you should go sign up and make an account! Not all the questions have to be deep and hard, it can be fun too, I just picked out the questions and answers that I thought were worth repeating.

xx. A.

Blast from the past!

So I was up late last night [surprise surprise] chatting with a friend to pass the time and we got onto the subject of my writing. I was telling him how everyone keeps encouraging me to write but it's so hard because I am just so critical of myself. 16 year old me was an amazing person - if I do say so myself - she had imagination and the guts to explore it and she wasn't scared to push aside the 'real world' to do that.

I feel as though I am competing with this girl and when I write now I find myself backspacing more than I type. It sounds extreme but I've had to resort to promising myself I wont backspace at all, belting out an entire post/story/whatever and then allowing myself 10 minutes for editing at the end. No more. If I was allowed to run free with my editing I'd never get a post up because there's always something that could be worded better, always something I could research and sound more plausible.

Anyway I've decided I'm going to share a few 'oldies' from around 2000 -- I was FOURTEEN [well.. fifteen later in the year but that's beside the point] then. I've decided teenage me was awesome but adult me has billions of years experience on her and is going to [once she has had a chance to get back on the horse again] knock teenage me's writing out of the park.

This was a poem I wrote for year 10 English. These days I would never have dreamed of attempting poetry, much less something this long, so I think I'm going to do one of the Poetry challenges for Project: Writers [Un]Block in the near future.. face that fear head on, you know?! Anyway, on with it.

Someday

He rode upon  the sky
And the dark plane he was in
Cast an earthly shadow
A shadow small and thin
But everyday he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

He launched the tiny Cesna
Into the grave of blue
And when the wind and clouds caved in
He promised to stay true

The little Cesna, Shirley
Was brave and strong and good --
When Shirley couldn't make it
Her humble master could
In unity they suffered
And conquered every foe
And flew from mornings blinding light
to midnights ebon glow
And everyday he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

When skies were dark and baleful
He kept his goals in sight
He yearned for fame -- to see his name
In marquee's of gold light
He whispered to young Shirley
"You're with me til' the end"
And Shirley promised to be strong
And save her lifelong friend
And everyday he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

With wings of silver eagles
And little fuel to spare
He soared upon the open skies
In hopes of getting there
But hurricane winds trembled
And a storm was soon full blown --
He clenched his fists and firmly vowed
To do it on his own

But the hurricane was ghastly
And it tore the battered sky
Like a cheetah lashing with razor teeth
Or a vulture on the fly
The rain and wind were wedded
And the marriage finallly steered
Shirley toward exactly what
Her master always feared

The hurricane had driven
The plane down through the atmosphere
Until its pilot realised
The bitter end was near
Still everynight he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

But as he whispered steadfast
He felt an inward ruth
That everynight, his words had grown
Father from the truth

And then that night, small Shirley
Felt her vigor disappear
And then she told her master
That he couldn't cry a tear --
For they would die together,
And never have to part
The Cesna felt her soul entwined
With her dear masters heart
And one last time he'd whisper
Undaunted by defeat;
"This is my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet"

Shirley sailed downward
And plunged into the sea
But still her silent Cesna heart
Was whole, and close to he
Her master sank down with her
His lonely head above
The heart of her, his only plane
And too -- his only love

He still lies there this minute
Now petrified as stone
With no marquees, no lights of gold --
He was a man unknown
No nomument was built for him
No poems to laud his name
And no one ponders over his
Eternal, ceaseless game
But maybe a young child whispers
Every morning, somewhere near
Something strong and simple,
that she hopes someone will hear:
"Lord, let me remain until my death,
Undaunted by defeat.
This, my quest -- I'll do my best
Someday my goals I'll meet".

xx. A.

The Long Day.

Today started out like any other, I woke several times throughout the early morning to go cuddle with the toilet, followed by crawling back to bed and collapsing there, wrapped around the body pillow that has become my best friend of late.

Eventually my alarm went off -- "I'm walking on sunshine, woaahhhhh!! I'm walking on sunshine, woahhhhh~!! And don't it feel good!" -- this was something I found amusing when I was well and was an incredible aid to me waking up in a good mood. The upbeat, cheery singing and fast paced beat had became the ultimate morning song for me. Oddly, these days, I find it has the exact opposite effect. I'm still not sure why I haven't changed it except that maybe I'm worried I'd ruin another song by making it my alarm.

I slowly accepted consciousness, blinking heavily and turning to one side - away from the open blinds of my window which [despite the rain outside] revealed a bright and sunny day.

Showering is a particularly fun task. I find that the heat of the spray makes my stomach do sommersaults and more often than not find myself on my knees, grasping for the bucket I keep beside the shower cubical 'just in case'. Today though, my bucket remained empty, and I went about the task of washing my body and hair of any remains of the nights "rest".

Eventually I was clean, and dried, and dressed [more or less] and threw my hair up into a ponytail. I've learned - over the last few weeks - that it is easier just to keep my hair tied up than to try hold it back when I am crouched unforgivingly over a toilet, or bucket, or gutter, or wherever the mood strikes.

I did the three tap check [wallet - keys - phone] and was out the door, wondering how it could be both so bright and so rainy at the same time, but too tired -- already -- to go back up the stairs to retrieve my umbrella.

The bus to the hospital is slow. The driver knows me by now and gives me a sympathetic smile [I don't want your sympathy] as I sit in the front seat, both arms crossed firmly across my stomach, trying to hold down what little remained in there. I never eat breakfast before radiation -- a lesson I learned on my very first day and learned well.

Finally -- blissfully -- the bus pulls to a stop out front of the hospital and I almost explode out of the door, scratching my arm on the buzzer on the way out. One hand pressed firmly over my - now bleeding - arm, the other arm still wrapped around my stomach, I press the button on the elevator and let my head rest against the cool metal of the door for a few minutes.

The Oncology Unit is fairly large - definitely larger than I had expected the first time - and the nurse on reception greets me with another sympathetic smile [I don't want your sympathy!]. I take my seat in the waiting room next to an old man named Bill. Bill and I are old friends by now and he grabs my hand and squeezes it gently in his own. Its pretty funny but I well up a little - I've been doing this on my own for so long now - even this tiny act of support is so much more than I expect.

I pretend to listen to my iPod [I'm listening to The Hobbit on Audiobook and it's actually really good, even though I've read it about 15 times and could almost recite it along with the reader] until Bill eventually gets called in, and about half an hour later, it's my turn.

My Radiologists name is Alex. He's pretty young, and he makes me laugh a lot. I can't pronounce his last name [it starts with a C and it's kind of Italian sounding?] so he just has me call him Dr. Alex. I like him.

The process has become almost habit for us, I undress in the room just before you enter the room where the radiation machine is and put on the flimsy hospital gown which is folded neatly on the seat. I then pull my shirt on over the top of the gown [something which I don't think you're supposed to do but Dr. Alex seems to 'get' that being naked infront of all these people is scary for me, and he suggested it on the first day of the second week] and go lay down on the bed under the machine.

Alex says it's okay to read or something while it's happening, but I always watch very closely. I can only just barely see him from behind the glass [I can't wear my glasses] but I feel like if I'm watching him he's less likely to give in to some crazy scientist and use me as an experiment or something.

I feel so vulnerable, and my skin has started to blister over the last few weeks. It hurts -- I bite my lip.

It's over within fiften minutes and soon a nurse has come in to usher me to my clothing and helps me get dressed again. Suddenly I'm not as shy as I was about being naked infront of someone else - my head is light and I can't stand up too well.

My doctor makes an appointment on Monday for me to take some blood tests, and fusses around me for half an hour or so, taking my blood pressure and asking questions. He tells me I have to see the therapist - Theresa - more often.

I don't remember much after that, just the 'beep' as I got on the bus and my forehead pressed against the cool glass window. Eventually the driver helps me out of my seat and down the stairs -- she stops at the top of the hill so I don't have to walk so far, even though I don't think she's supposed to do that either.

Eventually I make it home and here I am, writing this. I guess it wasn't such a big day afterall -- it's only 2:11pm. I think I'm going to nap now.

xx. A.