Haha! Thanks so much! And yes, I'd go for a lose-win. And yessssss, the translation thing really does often get me into trouble. Sometimes I'll say stuff, the conversation will continue for a while and it'll take me ages to realise why I'm so lost – because they've taken what I've said as gospel and run with it. Then I'll sound like such a nutter having to go, "Oh yeah, you know that thing I said five minutes ago? That was a joke. Clearly a really good solid joke." Sigh.
Good for you, Jo! I admire people with a sense of humour in a crisis. Disconcerting (but maybe understandable) that medics can't always spot when you're making a joke. Kudos to those who get it and joke right back.
100%! I have discovered that cracking sarcastic, self-deprecating asides in any medical situation is ripe for misunderstanding – but especially in a different language. Ah well, I'll never stop doing it (I physically can't?) so will have to deal with the fallout! Thanks so much for your message xx
Oh, Jo! I'm so sorry for what you're going through. It's harsh. I don't have cancer but I have a very debilitating IBD that has been like living with a bad stomach bug for three years, and I've learned to try to find the funny side most days. Or the silver lining, which has been all about poetry and publishing my poetry book recently. But yesterday I wasn't laughing as I was ill all day, and it does get to you, suddenly, doesn't it. Anyway, I'm not comparing my disease to yours, just saying I get you, and how shitty that this happened to you, and to me, but we will get through this. And you made me smile. Oh, and Ketamine! I had Ketamine earlier this year when I had to have a small cyst removed on an ovary. Blimey! Yep, that was some nice stuff! See, a silver lining!!! Big hugs, Cesca xx
Hi Cesca, thank you so much for such a thoughtful message and for sharing your situation. One of my mates has debilitating IBD and bloody hell, it's savage. You have all of my admiration for getting through it, let alone managing to with a smile sometimes. But yes, the sheer scale of shittery does hit me often. It's impossible not to dabble in all the emotions. Which is where ketamine comes in! God bless that stuff! Hugs right back atcha. xxx
Hello Jo, How are you feeling these days? I have an appointment to learn how to self-inject my immunosuppressants this afternoon, as I've had three infusions so far. So I'm back in Switzerland for this. I'll have to inject every two-weeks as of now. Forever. That is, if it works, because so far it's kind of meh.. but I've also been given another med by my Spanish gastroenterologist that seems to be helping. I'd be happy to speak to your friend about this if it could help in any way. The shittery (the autocorrect just proposed "shimmery", which would be much nicer!) definitely gets to us, sometimes. I had some un-shimmery moments last week.
I do hope you're feeling a bit better. Take good care. Big hugs. xxx
Had a colonoscopy a few years ago. Needed to drive myself home, so I declined any sedation. Simply said, “I rather enjoy a bit of theatre.”
There I was, stretched out on the table in one of those loosely tied gowns—open at the back, for reasons one needn’t elaborate on—watching as two nurses experimented with turning me this way and that, trying to help the doctor navigate what he later described as a “rather challenging series of bends.”
“The last one,” the doctor muttered, face glistening. “This’ll be the tricky bit.”
The attendants pulled and pushed with increasing urgency, and it became clear one of them was gaining the upper hand. I began sliding sideways across the table, the gown unravelling like a paper wrapper in a gale. At one point I thought I might fully disembark.
Afterwards, the doctor offered an apology for the theatrics.
“Not at all,” I said. “I haven’t had that many hands on my naked body since university.”
Haha! Love this so much. "Gown unravelling like a paper wrapper in a gale" is 👌👌👌. Have had numerous colonoscopies now and they're always an adventure. Especially when you can see the screen and watch what they're doing. 'Theatre' is exactly right. Thanks so much for commenting! xx
Oh Jo, this is so relatable. I, too, had a stoma (ironically, unrelated to my two bouts with cancer). How could you not laugh at a stoma? I used to sing the Beverly Hillbillies theme song whenever I had a gusher and had many other goofy nicknames and jokes for it. It’s amazing what the body can do and what science can do. But I truly believe laughter is, if not the best, then the second best medicine. Thanks for sharing this perspective.
Hi Alison! Thanks so much for your message and for sharing your experience! Yep, stomas are as ridiculous as they are miraculous. I love your vibe towards it!
Haha! Thanks, Zoran 💛 And yep, things def skewed off the rails there for a bit on audio – as they often do. That's why I love recording these things, tbh. Always the opportunity for a completely batshit sidebar! xx
This makes me feel better about the fact that I often do a nervy laugh or smile when I’m either talking or hearing about something harrowing, then have to explain that I’m not a heartless bastard, it’s a sort of reflex around pain.
Thanks so much for this comment! Yeessssss, don't worry, you're 100% not alone. Loads of us do it all the time. It's a response to high-levels of tension. We want to bring things back to earth. We want to find some connection and relief. Thanks for your kind message about my sitch, too. It was a shitshow for sure, but it did have it's good bits. xx
Ha ha.. "that escalated" 😆 But seriously... really loved this Jo - You really are a true inspiration ❤️
Thank you so much! 💛
The translation barrier as a sarcastic brit must really be quite difficult. I bet that TB doctor thought you were a right loon.
Sorry to hear your mum's cancer was so prolonged. On the upside, you got a cracking sense of humour out of it, so... Win-win? (Lose-win?)
Haha! Thanks so much! And yes, I'd go for a lose-win. And yessssss, the translation thing really does often get me into trouble. Sometimes I'll say stuff, the conversation will continue for a while and it'll take me ages to realise why I'm so lost – because they've taken what I've said as gospel and run with it. Then I'll sound like such a nutter having to go, "Oh yeah, you know that thing I said five minutes ago? That was a joke. Clearly a really good solid joke." Sigh.
Good for you, Jo! I admire people with a sense of humour in a crisis. Disconcerting (but maybe understandable) that medics can't always spot when you're making a joke. Kudos to those who get it and joke right back.
100%! I have discovered that cracking sarcastic, self-deprecating asides in any medical situation is ripe for misunderstanding – but especially in a different language. Ah well, I'll never stop doing it (I physically can't?) so will have to deal with the fallout! Thanks so much for your message xx
Oh, Jo! I'm so sorry for what you're going through. It's harsh. I don't have cancer but I have a very debilitating IBD that has been like living with a bad stomach bug for three years, and I've learned to try to find the funny side most days. Or the silver lining, which has been all about poetry and publishing my poetry book recently. But yesterday I wasn't laughing as I was ill all day, and it does get to you, suddenly, doesn't it. Anyway, I'm not comparing my disease to yours, just saying I get you, and how shitty that this happened to you, and to me, but we will get through this. And you made me smile. Oh, and Ketamine! I had Ketamine earlier this year when I had to have a small cyst removed on an ovary. Blimey! Yep, that was some nice stuff! See, a silver lining!!! Big hugs, Cesca xx
Hi Cesca, thank you so much for such a thoughtful message and for sharing your situation. One of my mates has debilitating IBD and bloody hell, it's savage. You have all of my admiration for getting through it, let alone managing to with a smile sometimes. But yes, the sheer scale of shittery does hit me often. It's impossible not to dabble in all the emotions. Which is where ketamine comes in! God bless that stuff! Hugs right back atcha. xxx
Hello Jo, How are you feeling these days? I have an appointment to learn how to self-inject my immunosuppressants this afternoon, as I've had three infusions so far. So I'm back in Switzerland for this. I'll have to inject every two-weeks as of now. Forever. That is, if it works, because so far it's kind of meh.. but I've also been given another med by my Spanish gastroenterologist that seems to be helping. I'd be happy to speak to your friend about this if it could help in any way. The shittery (the autocorrect just proposed "shimmery", which would be much nicer!) definitely gets to us, sometimes. I had some un-shimmery moments last week.
I do hope you're feeling a bit better. Take good care. Big hugs. xxx
Heartily agree Jo,
Had a colonoscopy a few years ago. Needed to drive myself home, so I declined any sedation. Simply said, “I rather enjoy a bit of theatre.”
There I was, stretched out on the table in one of those loosely tied gowns—open at the back, for reasons one needn’t elaborate on—watching as two nurses experimented with turning me this way and that, trying to help the doctor navigate what he later described as a “rather challenging series of bends.”
“The last one,” the doctor muttered, face glistening. “This’ll be the tricky bit.”
The attendants pulled and pushed with increasing urgency, and it became clear one of them was gaining the upper hand. I began sliding sideways across the table, the gown unravelling like a paper wrapper in a gale. At one point I thought I might fully disembark.
Afterwards, the doctor offered an apology for the theatrics.
“Not at all,” I said. “I haven’t had that many hands on my naked body since university.”
Haha! Love this so much. "Gown unravelling like a paper wrapper in a gale" is 👌👌👌. Have had numerous colonoscopies now and they're always an adventure. Especially when you can see the screen and watch what they're doing. 'Theatre' is exactly right. Thanks so much for commenting! xx
Oh Jo, this is so relatable. I, too, had a stoma (ironically, unrelated to my two bouts with cancer). How could you not laugh at a stoma? I used to sing the Beverly Hillbillies theme song whenever I had a gusher and had many other goofy nicknames and jokes for it. It’s amazing what the body can do and what science can do. But I truly believe laughter is, if not the best, then the second best medicine. Thanks for sharing this perspective.
Hi Alison! Thanks so much for your message and for sharing your experience! Yep, stomas are as ridiculous as they are miraculous. I love your vibe towards it!
I really enjoyed this piece 🙏
Thanks so much, Sarah! I really appreciate the message 🫶
Gotta love the ADHD-spiraling-out-of-control moment before the beginning of this piece haha
Oh, and the piece itself. Obvs!
Haha! Thanks, Zoran 💛 And yep, things def skewed off the rails there for a bit on audio – as they often do. That's why I love recording these things, tbh. Always the opportunity for a completely batshit sidebar! xx
This makes me feel better about the fact that I often do a nervy laugh or smile when I’m either talking or hearing about something harrowing, then have to explain that I’m not a heartless bastard, it’s a sort of reflex around pain.
I’m sorry for what you’ve been through
Thanks so much for this comment! Yeessssss, don't worry, you're 100% not alone. Loads of us do it all the time. It's a response to high-levels of tension. We want to bring things back to earth. We want to find some connection and relief. Thanks for your kind message about my sitch, too. It was a shitshow for sure, but it did have it's good bits. xx
🥹🫶🏻
Thank you 💛