Act III: The end of the line?

Oh God, this is strenuous. If I ever go into some type of career that revolves around writing, please let it not include writing about myself. It's boring, and that really doesn't reflect well on me, does it? It's a very simple logic. Bored about writing about your life? Then your life is boring. If I don't pull my finger out and do something exciting like base jumping or heavy drug use soon then the future of this blog doesn't look great.

However, one exciting thing that I CAN tell you about is in fact occurring this week. The Hickman line is coming out. Hasta la Vista. Yippee Ki Yay. Dead or alive, you're coming with me. It quite literally is... the end of the line. I remember writing about the line of Hickman all the way back in January, which in so many ways involved me singing its praises and jizzing in excitement over being half man, half... plastic. Well, fuck all that. I cannot wait to be rid of this horrible, needy, monstrous pain in the arse, which hangs out of my chest like a saggy set of old man's bollocks.

Now then, don't get me wrong. The line has been an absolute saint in regards to longevity. Not one infection, not one snag, not one reason to rip it out and shove another one straight in. And it's been an absolute godsend for taking/administering blood and of course for treatment. But the thought of getting this thing out of my bloodstream and having it hang on the wall like some sort of hunting trophy is insanely appealing.

I think the concept of it being a major step forward, rather than being shot of the little annoyances, is what's probably giving me a hard on just thinking about it. It's a huge landmark in my treatment and recovery. Having something there that I've been so desperately dependent on has been a significantly testing psychological experience in itself. So suddenly realising that you don't NEED it anymore? Oh, such scenes! It's the point when you finally accept that the worst might just be over.

And to really sweeten the deal, I might even get a gnarly scar to go with it. I hear chicks dig scars, so long as they came about as a result of a fight. I can make up some sort of story involving a grizzly bear, I'm sure. Watch out, Ellise. ;)

So what now? Well, I have uni to look forward to in January, but that's not for a while yet. I've got my birthday, Christmas and then Ellise's birthday to look forward to before then, and I really wanna see as many people as possible before I relocate up north. I might even do a work placement for CLIC Sargent. If you're unfamiliar with who they are, it's a fantastic charity who help and mentor teenagers and young adults who are going through the horrible ordeal of cancer. Look them up if you get the time, they're an awesome bunch of guys who have helped a great deal for me and a lot of others I know. I even went bowling with a few of them last week.

So that's that. I hope you enjoyed it. My biggest hope is that it wasn't tiresome to read. If it was then perhaps I should brush up on my style. Or maybe not, because that truly would be effort. In any case, its credentials as a sage is really up to you to decide. One thing is for sure though, I won't ever do it again.

Big love, as always.

Ryan.

p.s. A shout out here that you should definitely take a look at. My good friends Lucy, Joe, Andy and Simon are all running The Great Yorkshire Run this coming Sunday in an effort to raise money for the P3 ward at the Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield. For those of you with keen memories, this is the same ward that did an amazing job in looking after me during my initial hospital stay at the beginning of the year. It's an utterly fantastic ward, but any further investment would be of huge benefit not only to those being cared for, but for those working there as well. It's a fantastic cause so if you're able to spare any pennies then that would be incredible!

Here's the link: http://www.justgiving.com/run2beatleuk/

Big love.