Geraldine is a lovely lady. In her 60’s. Well spoken. Wise. She’s one of the Breast Care Nurses who’s called me in for a little chat and a check up.
“Now I need to ask you Lara. Do you have a partner?”
“No. (Dramatic pause) I have a Lover.”
I said this purely in the hope of shocking Geraldine and to make her gasp or at least squirm in her chair. Course I don’t have a bloody lover! Well I sort of do – but I don’t think once a month counts. Right?
Geraldine doesn’t bat an eyelid. Doesn’t even flinch a millimetre.
Geraldine 1. Lara 0.
“You need to have regular intercourse throughout chemotherapy to keep everything in working order and the juices flowing so to speak. I recommend you get a vibrator.”
I think I’m gonna vom. Now I’m the one squirming in my chair.
Geraldine 2. Lara 0.
I can’t think of anything more revolting. A cold, clammy, glittery dildo that stinks of rubber and has a tiny pink rabbit having an epileptic fit attached to the side. How thoroughly sexy. I rather use it to stir my custard thanks. But if you insist Geraldine. I mean so far the NHS have come up trumps. A free wig. A complementary silk Hermes scarf designed by Stella McCartney. So why not give out free quivering wangers to all cancer patients? Or even better, free sessions with hunky men who are trained sexual ‘therapists.’ Oh and on top of that, throw in a couple of Merkins, seeing as chemo makes ALL of the hair on your body fall out if you know what I mean. Thank you please.
After my heart to heart with Geraldine I text my ‘Lover.’
‘I’ve just been to see my nurse and she says I need to have LOADS of sex during chemo to keep everything in working order. THIS IS A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH! You would be saving my life x’
No pressure or anything.
A few minutes later I get a reply.
‘Happy to oblige! x’
Being a cancer patient sometimes does have it’s perks.
This post first appeared here.