death

Just another health scare?

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In June I found a small lump in my groin cos it hurt.

I didn’t want to deal with it, attributed it to walking into a tree or falling on my arse or bumping into something stupid and tried to forget about it.

Couldn’t forget about it in September when it started hurting and had grown – massively – and kept growing.

A fun side effect of cancer is that you’re more prone to getting cancer again, and the lovely Tamoxifen that I’m on has cervical cancer as a probably side effect. Fuck, not cancer again???

Couldn’t get hold of my GP so went to the ER and got an ultrasound (I know the drill by now) and tech/doctor says “You need to be referred to oncology”

Still couldn’t get hold of GP so called another doc and said “I need a referral, that’s all I need from you, send me to onco and I’ll be out of your life”

Had a lovely holiday in Lo Pagán, Spain, apart from the fact that I got some kind of weird sun rash – it wasn’t red, didn’t itch, wasn’t a sun burn, just weird blisters which disappeared after 24 hours but came back if I didn’t use sun block.

Got home to a nice visit at haemotology at Ahus. “We’re gonna do some bloodwork and a biopsy and a CT and see where we send you next”

Biopsy first. Fkn stupid surgeon. “I can only see pus, are you sure it isn’t an ingrown hair and sebacous gland?” YES we did an ultrasound so do your work and stop being a fkn twat “ok I’ll see if I can find something”

Date with a doctor at Infectious diseases was nice. “So, we’re pretty sure this isn’t lymphoma but the CT was kinda weird so we’re referring you to a gynecologist also sending off tests to Sweden for Bartonella cos I never get to do that cos it’s expensive but you’ve got the syptoms and we’re also testing you for tularemia because of your tick bites”

She called me last week. I have tularemia – rabbit fever – hare plague (harepest) in Norwegian – from a stupid fkn tick (who are all over me since chemo cos apparently I’m now irresistable). Mortality rate is pretty high in the US but not that bad here in Norway.

“We’re still awaiting some test results but at least we have a cure for that!” so she puts me on ciproflaxin which is a new antibiotic for me and the nice lady at the chemist told me that it could be pretty hard on the stomach so important I eat and take the pills twelve hours apart – as on the dot as possible – and I should really read the instructions.

Most of the instructions are “If you have this side effect, contact a doctor IMMEDIATELY, do not pass GO, do not wait an hour, get your ass to the ER ASAP”

"Ciprofloxacin is a fluoroquinolone (flor-o-KWIN-o-lone) antibiotic, it is used to treat different types of bacterial infections. It is also used to treat people who have been exposed to anthrax or certain types of plague. Ciprofloxacin extended-release is only approved for use in adults.

Fluoroquinolone antibiotics can cause serious or disabling side effects that may not be reversible.

Ciprofloxacin should be used only for infections that cannot be treated with a safer antibiotic.”










Turns out, this is top notch bad shit fucking horrible side effects. Anorexia is a new one for me but it’s actually kinda nice to not eat and not be hungry and not want to eat apart from the whole “you must eat before you take the pills”. I shouldn’t drink coffee (that’s not happening) and insomnia is kinda wild – again – ffs





The worst side effect though is probably the “your mood might turn a bit negative”. Fuck that. These pills are fucking screwing with my head in the worst ways possible. “A bit negative” doesn’t work when you’re as fkd up as I am. My mind is never in any kind of state where it can tolerate “a bit negative” cos I crash completely. If you think I’m ignoring you, I probably am. Not in a good head state right now. Actually in a pretty shitty one. Wrote this yesterday. It’s not pretty so don’t read if you don’t want to.





It’ll pass. It always does. My 80 hour Marshalls are on most of the day cos  I relly need to drown out my screaming brain but Nick Holmes is with me and keeping me kinda sane. Thank fuck for Paradise Lost. 





Gynecologist was a bit “It doesn’t look right but I’ll take some tests and let you know” so still waiting for results from a few tests. Fuckit.

			

	
		
	


				
					


		

		
					
	

	
	

		
So, how the fuck are you?


				

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No one asks me that. Ever. A couple people say it but don’t really mean it




I think it’s cos they don’t want to hear “I’m not going driving today cos tunnel walls are too tempting”




They don’t want to hear “I’m exhausted with dragging my ass out of the bottom of hell yet again”




They don’t know that as long as certain people are still breathing, I will continue fighting




Like a fkn cockroach


Prepared to survive armageddon




Again


“May cause mood swings”


Fuck that


“This all is in my head”




Self medication FTW




Paradise Lost/Host are fucking great for surviving that kinda shit
			

	
		
	


				
					


	
	

		
Running on fumes


				

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I’ve been quiet for a while. Not because I haven’t had any words, but it’s been too hard a struggle.


Going through cancer treatment sucks, but it’s nothing compared to the void after.


You’re not cancer-free. You’ll never be cancer-free. Your body is shit and will never work properly again.


Your mind is fucked-up and if you’re lucky – it may start working again in a few months. Or a decade. Or never. It’s called chemo brain and there’s nothing that can be done to fix it.


So your life sucks. And your friends are gone, cos who wants to hang with a cancer patient. The few good ones stay – cos they’ll always be there – but most of them are gone. And maybe you got some new ones, or revitalised old friendships, cos hey – some people actually are there for you when shit happens.


I see you. I know who’s been there. You know who you are. You’ve kept me alive.


So you walk out the other side of cancer treatment with a couple of new friends and you’ve lost many more. And maybe you realise that family and blood and shit – it’s just a goddamned lie. They can talk about blood all they want but fuck it – I have scars that prove the opposite.


So thank you to those who actually care and keep me alive. The rest can just go to hell. I’m too tired to be polite any more. I have so many battle scars I’m not sure how I stay upright.


Oh yeah, I know.


There are so many people who would dance on my grave, and fuck it if I’ll get them that satisfaction. I’ll be their guilty conscience.


I just wish I had a bit of energy, but fuck it, I’ve been running on fumes for so long that who gives a fuck. I will survive cos FUCK YOU. I have worth. I am a fucking awesome person. I used to be interesting but these days you’ll be lucky if I know which month it is.


And I have music. Thank you Trent Reznor for being the psychotherapist every crazy-ass person needs. Thanks to Al Jourgenson for noize. Thanks to Gary Numan for suddenly being there and being my soundtrack.


So – going to London in June to see NIN at the Royal Albert Hall cos fuck it, I need something good to look forward to. And Gary Numan at Rockefeller in December. Certainly can’t afford NIN but my mind needs it.


And the irony of it all? I don’t think any of my blood relatives actually can be fucked to read this blog.


My name is ruin, my name is vengeance

My name is no one, no one is calling

My name is ruin, my name is heartbreak

My name is loving, but sorrows and darkness

My name is ruin, my name is evil

My name’s a war song, I sing you a new one





			

	
		
	


				
					


	
	

		
I want a humane death when the time comes


				

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I’m not religious. I could never believe in any deity that would put people through so much suffering just for the hell of it. I don’t believe in heaven or hell, and I’m quite certain that when I die, I’m done with this place. I won’t come back to haunt my enemies, I won’t be reincarnated as a cat, there will be no soul to capture, and I’ll just be gone.


I’ve already made a deal with the University of Oslo for body donation. Not because I don’t want my organs to keep someone else alive, but because the probability of dying in such a way that my organs can be used for transplanting is quite small. One has to die in a donor hospital – ie DOA doesn’t cut it. And if I’d been a med student I would have loved the idea of examining me, with this weird body full of so many flaws og wonky bits that interesting stuff is bound to be present!


Doing a body donation also means that there won’t be a funeral right away, just a memorial service. As Norwegian law is quite clear on the subject, someone has to bury at least a small part of me, within three years, so I’m hoping they choose my left thumb (only part I’ve never had an issue with). I’ve also got the approval for getting my ashes spread in my forest rather than a burial. This also means that there will be no gravestone and no marker to point where my ashes fertilize the earth and become cloudberries (knowing my luck I’ll probably just be the bushy head of a hare’s-tail cottongrass).


Thing is – I don’t want anyone to have to take care of a “final resting place” for me. It would be hypocritical for me to be a burden after I die. And quite frankly, if family and friends can’t visit me while I’m alive, I see no reason to give them any place to mourn me after I’m dead. They can always visit the forest and remember me there, but I see no reason for anyone to have to take care of a grave site with a bunch of bones in it.


Which also means that I am a firm believer in assisted suicide (the term assisted suicide is preferred as a phrase over euthanasia due to the eugenesist politics of the Nazi era). I don’t understand why putting a dog to sleep is considered humane, whilst insisting humans have to wait for a natural ending isn’t. Where is the humanity, decency and dignity in letting a human being without quality of life lie in a bed and just wait for an ending that might take weeks or months? Where is the peaceful transition for his or her family, who have to sit and wait for the inevitable to happen? Have to sit and watch a loved one not get the eternal rest they wish and beg for?


There are a growing number of institutions that offer assisted suicide and of organisations that work for the right to decide over one’s own death. UK-based Dignity in dying is one of them. In Europe, there are a number of countries who now allow assisted suicide and hopefully there will be more countries joining them.


Not that I have any plans of dying anytime soon.


Personally, I hope that when my time comes, some old farmer will just drag me behind the barn and put me out of my misery. I don’t want to grow old with nothing to live for.