Cancer Scare!

I HAVE A SWOLLEN lump just above my left nipple, which is really painful. It has been there for weeks and is getting bigger. And I seem to keep banging it all the time, which really hurts. My chest looks normal in the mirror, but if I look down it's noticably swollen on the left side. The (female) doctor had a good old grope then announced she is sending me off to a specialist. I didn't behave very grown up at all during this consultation. Couldn't stop smiling near-ecstatically the entire time. Then I said "I heard cancer is normally a hard lump" (this is soft-ish and feels like a loop, like some kind of atrophied veins or something though I hasten to add I have NOT been injecting there). But she said, "Not necessarily." Anyway, she's making me an appointment with a specialist. A breast cancer specialist, I assume. Apparently one case in a hundred of breast cancer does happen in MEN.

I was so excited last night I could not sleep. If I am dying I will have to write tons and tons of my little books to keep my family in money after I am gone. NO WAY am I having chemotherapy or radiotherapy. I will probably let them take the lump out, but that's it. If you think I'm the sort of person who posts how he wants to die one week then suddenly changes his mind when death becomes a real possibility, you really don't know me. I watch/listen to the religious channels on TV every day. And every night I get the Bible read out unedited in full on the TWR radio channel. I cannot wait to meet God. I don't want to live in this shitty world a day longer than absolutely necessary.

If anyone DARES try and force me into treatment against my will (which they theoretically could do by claiming I am mentally ill), I shall hire a lawyer and go to court over the issue. One thing God did bless me with was an eloquent mouth. And even if the judge rules against me I shall take up smoking in bed, cut open the drip bags and do everything possible to mess up their treatment.

If I've only got a short time to live, I'd better contrive as many novel-plots as I possibly can, so after I'm gone the publishers can hire someone else to turn them into books (like they did with Virginia Andrews). O yeah and I'd better write my will quick. If I don't write one, everything, including intellectual property rights, goes to my brother (as far as I understand), which I don't mind. But I wanted to make a more complicated will that would cut in more family members. I just hope they are hard-nosed enough to exploit my every literary creation for all it is worth. Storytelling might be an art, but publishing, movies, computer games and other spin-offs are business and I want them treated as such. If they sign any duff contracts after I am gone, for example selling film rights for a lump sum rather than taking a share of gross receipts, DVD sales etc (never net profits) AS WELL as a lump sum advance, then I really will turn in my grave (or my ashes pot).

So that's me. You all thought I'd die of an overdose and I'm probably dying of cancer! Keep smiling, I am. I want a roborovski hamster on my headstone.

XXXXXXX

PS I just read this back. I know it comes across a little weird. But I might be dying. What the hell else am I supposed to say?