Cancerous Capers: 'You can walk around with a scary disease and feel hardly any different'

Published on Monday 26 January 2009 22:27

When Jamie Ross, a 19-year-old student, was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma, he decided to write a blog, just for a laugh. He called it Cancerous Capers and all this week we will reprint extracts of his funny and insightful writing

PART THREE

OLD people can be bitter bastards, can't they? Especially the ones with terminal diseases. A few weeks ago I bounced into the ward to get a blood test done and met a really old man. Obviously furious about my youthful optimism and chipper nature, he took one look at me and, without so much as a good morning, said: "Yeah, you come in here walking, but sooner or later you leave in a box."

I was going to wave my top-notch prognosis in his withered little face, but if I can bring a smile to an old man's face by allowing him to think I'm going to die, then god damn it I will. They fought for my freedom after all. It was on the day of my bone marrow biopsy in fact, a procedure he said would be fine unless I got "the Pakistani doctor" in which case it would be "sheer agony". We do have some top-notch banter in good old ward two.

I'm over a sixth of the way through treatment now and so far it's so easy it's been a bit of an anticlimax. I've discovered that you can walk around with quite a scary disease and feel hardly any different from usual. A fact that will no doubt reassure anyone who's been diagnosed with something and terrify all of those who haven't.

Almost all of it is actually incredibly mundane. The cycle goes: Hospital for two hours > Two Weeks of Football Manager > Hospital for two hours and so on. However, if I lose my hair I will obviously have to shun all human contact and Facebook will be my only way to interact with the outside world. I might have to write hourly.

PART FOUR

CANCER has quite a bad reputation. That's a given. As far as unfavourable media coverage goes, I'd suggest it couldn't really be outdone unless Gary Glitter was photographed in a children's ward, reading an al-Qaeda pamphlet, while wearing a hat with "I Did Princess Diana" emblazoned on the front.

However, aren't we always taught to listen to both sides of the story before coming to a balanced conclusion?

Could it be that cancer has been unfairly represented since the dawn of time? Is it now finally the time for one man to stand up and defend cancer's corner armed only with a laptop and steely determination? No, not really, is the answer to that. Cancer is quite obviously rubbish. But I'm dangerously bored and I couldn't think of anything else to write about, so I'll give it a whack.

First of all, it's true to say that cancer brings out an unprecedented level of kindness in people. This is an odd paradox, it's very much like a little happiness fairy that spreads kind words and selfless acts whilst also being a massive goblin that shits all over people's lives. One such act of kindness was displayed by the nice people at Perth Concert Hall. My mother phoned them up around this time last month enquiring as to whether there were still tickets to see Dylan Moran and, unfortunately, there were not.

This is where having cancer can become a towering advantage over you healthy idiots. The c-word had barely left her mouth and she was in the possession of two front-row VIP hospitality tickets. The only thing that worries me slightly about this is that I could be expected to meet him before the show, much like a crippled child at a McFly concert. This worries me because, first of all, they'll probably think I'm lying because I currently look perfectly healthy. They'll surely be expecting a bald, skeletal husk of a man on his big day out from hospital. Also, I have literally nothing to say to him. It would be an altogether embarrassing episode for both of us, with our awkward smiles probably being immortalised in film by the photographers of the Perthshire Advertiser under some form of heart-warming headline – "Cancer Patient Meets Idol". I don't even like him that much.

Anyway, this act of generosity did sinisterly open my eyes to ways in which cancer could be advantageous but, in the words of Spider-Man, with great power comes great responsibility. It must only be used when all other possible avenues have been covered, or I can't be bothered waiting in a line or something. I'm just hoping old man McCartney announces his tour before the bastards at the hospital cure me, thus stealing my magical powers.

Another thing that enters my head when considering the benefits of cancer is quite literally that: the financial benefits. There is one annoying aspect to this though. Initially, I was told I could receive two types of benefit, one being income support and another being incapacity benefit. Predictably, I was refused the incapacity benefit, meaning I'll just have income support on my permanent government record with no indication that this was a medical necessity. I'll just look like a massive lazy idiot who took a year out of university to have a laugh at the expense of the taxpayer. On top of this, it also ruined my extensive plans to spend incapacity benefits in a number of ironic ways – my first purchase was going to be a Nintendo Wii complete with an elaborate dance mat system, but this is now merely a pipe-dream.

What is it coming to when a man who's never paid a single penny towards taxes can't get a free Nintendo Wii from the government, complete with dance mat accessory? There is no doubt that the money I would have been getting will be spent on tap-dancing lessons for asylum seekers, no doubt whatsoever.

However, the income support will help save me from the perils of becoming a 15-year-old boy again. There would have been few less enjoyable things through out this entire ordeal than having to ask my mother for money any time I wanted to indulge in a Midori and lemonade.

I'm also experiencing an exponential growth in my popularity at the moment. It seems 934 people have now viewed my Bebo page in the month and a half since I was diagnosed, breaking all previous records by about 300 per cent. I don't think it would be too much of an exaggeration to say that I'm Milnathort's biggest celebrity since Frankie Poullain of The Darkness. As word continues to spread, many people who slipped off of my radar many years ago have got in touch. Some cynics may say this is just to feed off of my new found fame, but it's been nice to hear from such people.

So there you have it: if you get cancer you become popular and get free money and stuff. It's almost the perfect lifestyle choice.

• Read more from Jamie at cancerouscapers.blogspot.com