5am Get out of bed, 9am arrive in Dublin, 9:30am eat leftover turkey-and-stuffing sandwich and sausage for breakfast in taxi to hospital, 10:45am locate correct wing of enormous hospital and have CAT scan and three boob tattoos all before 11:30am. Plane journey sitting next to the most vile, drunken chav duo from hell, then back to Manchester in time for dinner at a city bar, spot I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! and Coronation Street actress Helen Flanagan out on the razzle dazzle with her mates and leave just as the paparazzi arrive… Bed by midnight. All in a day’s work for a dedicated cancer-fighter like me!
Apart from the paparazzi (who I think were there to photograph Miss Flanagan, rather than my dear self), I expect what most intrigued you from the above were the words “boob tattoo,” so let’s delve a little further into that subject. Disappointingly, the tattoos are not actually on my boobs. They are all in a line below my boobs – one in the very centre, and one on each side.
First, I lay on the machine while the big whirring CAT scan machine bobbed me under and took a few pics (this was painless and took two minutes). Then a young man called Owen (or Eoghan – I’m not at one with Irish spellings yet but will ask him next time) appeared as if from nowhere with a felt-tip pen and drew some lines on me in an X-marks-the-spot fashion. He and another lady called Olivia stuck some stickers on me and finally Owen/Eoghan tattooed me with a needle at the meetings of each of the three Xs. It wasn’t painless but was basically just the same pin-prick as a quick injection and was over in minutes.
Above-left, you can see what one of the tattoos on my side looked like yesterday after the tattooing took place (please excuse the bra marks). It looks sort of painful and bruised, but I can assure you it’s just ink and was not in the least bit painful. Fortunately the Xs washed off, and to the right you can see what the tats look like post-wash. I was kind of expecting them to be a little smaller – you can certainly see them – but I couldn’t care less. I now have three permanent scars from my cancer and three little tiny speck tattoos, and I love having the war wounds to remind me what I’ve been through. Something to show the grandkids, I s’pose…
I have just posted the pics of the tiny specks on my side as I have a feeling I might regret it if I post the one in the middle of my cleavage, so I won’t…
Meanwhile, it seems the lovely Miss Flanagan decided to go bra-less last night, according to the Daily Mail. I’m thinking maybe she was doing it in sympathy for me?
the big scary 'C' word 