More Existential Drivel

And so inevitably I come to existential dilemma number three and this I promise you is a biggie...at least from where I'm standing, er sitting, lying, sprawling...one of those, take your pick.

The back pain is thankfully receding and I've not taken any serious pain relief all day. I'm somewhat scared, frankly I'm terrified that it will produce a bowel impaction so gargantuan that when it eventually goes off we'll have to rebuild the whole East wing and rehouse the servants.

So back to existential dilemma number three....Fuck me gently, you're not going to believe this. I think the bomb bays doors are inexorably opening for another run. I'm going to have to go....

Right I'm back with you and guess what I bought you in with me. Do you feel special. Ladies and gentlemen I am writing this whilst triumphantly, nay, gloriously having my second poo of the day. It's remarkably difficult to poo whilst your leg is on an office chair. It's not conducive to the longed for smooth action. Jeez I think may just have launched the Titanic...

Enough of this scatological drivel and back to the more important topic of my third existential dilemma.
I've told you all about pouring my own urine over myself and very funny it was too. That's not to say I've only done it the once. No gentle readers I have spilt my own piss on at least three occasions. But, and...you know what's coming...this is the nub, it's only funny the first time.

I have spoken of the well known duvet dilemma, the mind in torment over whether to take painkillers or have a shit. I have taken the aforementioned shit and described it in loving detail. All of these served to make my readers chuckle and gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling of a job well done. However I shall almost certainly continue pouring piss over myself and desperately needing a poo for the next six weeks at least and the dilemma is... What the fuck am I going to write about now?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

5. Just Go Ahead and Die Quietly

Image
< Previous  -  Next > We have many preconceptions about cancer, these are fed by a deluge of slightly inaccurate information from books, magazines, television and most of all these days, bloody wellness influencers.  I am starting to come to to the conclusion that there is a Darwinian imperative lurking in the pernicious trend of believing every fucking thing that is on the internet rather than a proper scientific double blind trial conducted by people who have been studying their field for years. The conclusion is this, we should encourage this trend as much as we can as it will thin out the herd for the rest of us. Apologies, cynical grumpy old man came to the fore a bit there, lets get back to cancerous inaccuracies, watch any series on the TV and a protaganist will get cancer, they will be rushed to a hospital that is the only one willing to try a new procedure, the cancer will be removed and then we will see them celebrating with their tearful relatives.  ...
Read more

14: Well, you can live on it, but it tastes like shit

Image
< Previous   | Next > It’s the end of week 5 of chemo and radiotherapy. Not much has happened of note. My life has distilled down to 4 distinct things, work, radiotherapy, a soupcon of television and sleep. This does not make for very scintillating blog writing.   To pick up from where we left off, Helen and I had staggered to the car overburdened with Fortisips and returned to Butcombe like medically challenged Father Christmases, laden with gifts that no bugger in his right mind would want. We had many people round for a meal on the Saturday night and I cooked a tofu and mushroom curry with coconut cream. I supplemented this with Mediterranean Rice and Lentils as the amount of people coming kept exponentially increasing until I lost count. There was a certain amount of uncertainty on my part as I couldn’t taste the curry and had to rely on other people to taste it and tell me whether it was OK.  I on the other hand was reprising Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee...
Read more

13: Abandoning My Principles

Image
< Previous | Next > It’s a Thursday and I am three weeks into the cancer treatment.  The first week had been pretty uneventful, I felt a little nausea and there were some changes happening in my mouth and throat that I had not ordered but nothing that startling. What I definitely have not ordered is what is happening to my sense of taste, to be frank, it appears to have fucked off never to be seen again.  What is the most disconcerting is the food that I find the worst is my own.  By this I mean that I am the principal cook in the Acheson-Crow household and do nearly all the cooking.  At age fourteen my daughter decided to become vegetarian and from then on very nearly all the food I've cooked has been vegetarian. I couldn’t be bothered with doing two lots of meals for the sake of a bit of meat. To be fair, during the 90’s I was almost completely ‘brassic’ and at one point was existing on exactly £10 a week for food, which, even thirty years ago, was fairly dr...
Read more