Bloody hell, life is very weird.

In the space of this month I have:

• Navigated an attempt by folks with…interesting motivations, to implode the baby org I nursed from conception (but fear not, ANPA lives, despite what social media would have you believe);

• Met with all Senior Commissioners from the AHRC (which was useful, and also, slightly awe-inducing);

• Discovered I have dyslexia (this was news to me, very much); which accounts for my rambly self;

• Discovered I very probably have cancer (so yeah that CT scan didn’t come back as rosy as hoped and I am off to Westmead Hospital tomorrow to be put through my paces. The lymph nodes, they be reallllly angry and my surgeon sounded like he wanted to spew on the phone this arvo, as did my GP. With each increasingly tense phone call from my doctors and with each less-well feeling day, I get less ‘upbeat’ as they say in 10 Things I Hate About You);

• Been invited to give evidence alongside my apparent Arch Nemesis, AAA, at the NSW Senate Inquiry next Monday. I mean, I have a lot of arch nemeses so…join the club, babes.

Bit of a fucken month eh bro.

I am now considering how to balance my diary in the context of impending chemo. I will probably need to withdraw from this session and defer uni, which is a pain in the bum.

I am hoping I can keep working. But, I won’t be able to do individual advocacy if I am in active treatment - or parent - or do much of anything beyond spew in a bucket. The Whatsapp chat village has been set up, and cotton scarves are being mulled.

I said to my good friend and colleague Heidi this arvo that I think we should start a betting pool to see who goes first from the advocacy sector in accusing me of faking. Haha. There are some choice and rather scurrilous picks! I’m putting a tenner on each of them. If I have to have cancer, I may as well gamify that shit and laugh at mine enemies in the process.

Anyway, gallows humour aside, tomorrow will be an interesting day. I will likely be working on me notez for Monday’s inquiry while waiting for a PET scan and biopsy and god knows what else, and possibly the oncologist. What an absolutely bananas month. I would give it back if I could!

I also feel like hammered shit, so there is that too. “A dropped pie” is how I self-described the other day to a mate. My face suddenly just got skinnier (thankfully I was a plump little pudding before now - I always knew it was a fighting advantage, just ask shipwreck survivors) and I am flat much of the time, nauseous as hell, as tired as when I was breastfeeding, fevery and headachey. And lumpy!

Someone asked me if I still plan to take on Inklings today, despite the news. My answer was: fuck yes.

I had few fucks to give before. I have even less now. If you thought I was an absolute pain in the ass before, imagine what fuckery lies in wait now I may not have years in which to pace it out.

Expect me. And The ANPA. It’s time to turn the dial way, way up.

Seeya Monday Nic - I hope.