Tuesday, August 11, 2009


I don't care if you smoke. Truly. As someone who once attempted to justify the decriminalisation of bestiality I can't be accused of judgmentally obsessing about what others do with their spare time. But, if it turns out that the people who are having their first oncology appointments before me are fat, smokers there might just be another column coming on. (Google 'sacha coburn' to read what happened last time I got cross.)

The evidence around a whole bunch of cancer-causing stuff is equivocal but the link between smoking and lung, throat and mouth cancers is incontrovertible. So by all means, smoke away. I'll probably stand outside with you in the freezing cold; you usually choose to go out for a ciggie when I'm right in the middle of making a very important point:) If you get cancer I'll be kind and loving and treat you with the same caring overwhelming respect that has been lavished on me. But I won't be happy that your place in the treatment queue might mean that someone like me, or worse, a child, is waiting.

"If you're fat it's your fault." That's me paraphrasing Nigel Latta. Being overweight increases your risk of just about all cancers and almost every other disease. Do yourself a favour and reduce your weight - and my wait. Action is everything - remember?

If I sound like a moaning Minnie, I'm just warming up! In truth you'd better hope that every moaner you know never has their boob removed because once you start with the complaining there's no end of misery. Shooting arm pains, nerves in your back that scream for no reason, the feeling that your veins might stretch and pop right out of your forearm - all good stuff. My approach is to be thankful. It's a little bit Pollyanna, granted, but for every pain I have I give thanks. 'Lucky to still have an arm Sach', I think. 'Some people don't have clothes so be thankful for that nasty chaffing around your wound'.

Cl, my techno wizard at work loaded up my shuffle with post-op music. The wizardry went wonky and I ended up with just the one song to listen to in hospital. For this I was, as ever, thankful. It's cheesy and if Leonard were dead he'd be rolling in his grave. For now I think he just appreciates the money. Alexandra Burke has the voice of an angry angel.


Hallelujah. Every pain, every ache deserves its own Hallelujah. I'm alive. I'm very cool. And I'm not too fat.

1 comment:

BeJolly said...

Hallelujah indeed - I'd not heard that version - angry angel indeed - and she's clearly not fat (and doesn't have the voice of a smoker) either.
Had not caught up with your blog since last week and just now reading of your to-do list intentions. Weird thing was I had a dream lat night that I was helping you buy carpet - which I am sure is not on your to do list! And isn't on mine either. And from one who is "wearing a bit of a winter coat"(euphanism for carrying a couple of extra kg): Hallelujah indeed - we in the western nation of NZ, have so much to be grateful for.

PS did you watch the recent Tour de France? - I loved it (but don't bother reading "It's not about the bike")