Like a grizzly bear rolling out of his cave after the long winter months, I have returned from hibernation. Or exile. Or pure fucking negligence, most likely.
Don't give me that look. I'm not on the clock here.
LIFE. It's a stressful thing, right? Life of the real variant that is. The one where you have to go out and do things and take on responsibilities and communicate with actual breathing specimens. So in truth, THAT is the reason that the blog has been somewhat dormant of late. Chief reason has got to be that I've written about 10000-15000 words of tedious uni work this past month, so that's most definitely sucked out the enthusiasm I once had for pouring out my nonsense into this medium. That's not to say I've fallen out of love with the blog, so I'll just promise - as I always do when I've been inactive for a long time - that I'll try and update this motherfucker on a far more regular basis.
But really? No promises. I can certainly promise that.
What's been happening then? Well, I moved back up to Sheffield. The place where it all began. The scene of the crime. The place that actually had no real significance on the fundamentals of my diagnosis. Being a man who likes to give cancer the middle finger (and I do a pretty good job of it too, dontcha know?) I decided to move back up to the city of steel exactly one year on from the day I was told that my blood was whack and that I'd need to make a deposit of 800000 fine brown hairs if I wanted to make it decent again. What's that leukaemia? Only one year on and you've already pissed off? What a pussy. A-L-L allstar, that's me. Parring life.
Of course... that's not been the case, and as you can imagine I've bitten off far more than my humble mouth can chew. Being out and about has left me exhausted and jaded and vulnerable, and everything culminated last week when I was admitted to hospital for FUCKING PNEUMONIA. Pneumonia!? Not to moan or anything (ha!) but I've had enough life threatening ailments for the meantime cheers. Fobbing off cancer was a rather excruciating experience believe it or not so I'd like to breeze through life for the next half century or so without having to deal with such bullshit again. But oh no, throw some pneumonia my way why don't you? Pneumonia properly kills people, so I've heard. And after doing a bit of research I discovered that it has a particular tendency of capping those with a history of... yep. Cancer. Oh great.
Luckily, what with me being the boss that I am, I'm pretty much past it for now. Obviously the antibiotics played their part but as I drift off to sleep some nights I like to think that my immune system is actually made up of thousands of miniature Tony Jaas causing utmost devastation to any malignant cocksuckers that dare mess with my health situation. Just a shame they spend most the time sleeping, especially when cancer rears its ugly head around, but nevermind.
So that was that, then. In regard to what's coming up, this weekend I'll be going to the Find Your Sense of Tumour conference at Center Parks in Sherwood Forest. So not only will I be attending what should be a great weekend with a whole bunch of young people who have shared my experience, I might even get to meet Robin Hood. Failing that though, I'll just go swimming in the ridiculous pools that they boast in those parts and probably get water trapped in my ears. Whatever happens, I'll make sure to do a blog on it after I get back and maybe even post some pictures. Be sure to keep an eye out!
Must dash I'm afraid. Got to get to Tescos for some Relentless so I can casually bust out 1000 words of storytelling. I would post my stories onto the blog but I think this site's seen enough crude writing for a few lifetimes let alone one so I'll just keep them to myself for now. Maybe if I get a super sweet mark in one then I'll share it to the world but judging by my recent grades that looks unlikely.
Big love,
Ryan.
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