I wish that people would stop talking to me about end of life care. First it was the GP, then the psychologist. The end result may be that they understand how a cancer patient feels or they understand me better but from my perspective, it’s given me nightmares and I feel really upset about it. I’m not in denial that this fucking disease will see me off but I’m not ready to go yet and I’m not ready to talk about it, either. Yes, some people think I should be ready to talk about it. Hurrah for them. I am a competent person, I have successfully raised 2 children, worked happily for several organisations and run my own business for the last 12 years. I’ve worked with those who have experienced loss and tragedy, got my hands in the dirty dishwater (as my supervisor at the Samaritans used to say) and can talk about feelings readily. I am even able to cross the road and wipe my own arse so when I want to talk about being cared for as I die, believe me, I will do it. Death isn’t a taboo subject in our household but talking about my death isn’t on the agenda yet because I don’t feel it’s the right time. It will be my decision as to when that time will be. I don’t have a lot of control over what happens to me but that is something I can choose to do when I want. So for anyone who wants to approach me, head slightly tilted to the side, and ask in a soft voice about how I want to be cared for at the end of  my life, DON’T! Instead, you can just fuck right off.

Oh, it has made me cross!