The Joke Life Told Me (And I'm Still Laughing)

On ovaries, operating theatres, and the quiet humiliation of looking your age

I have a joke. It's not a good joke — it's the kind life hands you when you're not looking, wrapped in a surgical gown and fluorescent lighting. But I've decided to keep it, because honestly, it's mine.

Before my operation, the prep team informed me, very professionally and with genuine warmth, that because I was so young, they were going to run a pregnancy test. A precaution, they explained. Standard procedure.

I smiled politely and told them that I didn't have ovaries anymore, so we could probably skip that part.

Brief pause. The kind that exists between someone saying something medically sensible and the room quietly recalibrating.

"Right," someone said. "Of course." We moved on. Very professionally.

Here is the punchline: I went to the supermarket recently and bought a bottle of wine (strictly for culinary purposes, of course). Nobody asked to see my ID.

Not even a glance. Not a flicker of hesitation. Just the beep of the scanner and the indignity of middle age, arriving quietly in the wine aisle of a supermarket.

Before the surgery: young enough to conceivably be pregnant.
After the surgery: old enough to definitely not be ID-d.

Somewhere in that gap is my entire recent history.

I share this not for sympathy — I promise I'm laughing — but because this is what cancer does to your relationship with time. It compresses and stretches it simultaneously. You become simultaneously ancient and oddly, absurdly vital. The body goes through enormous things and then goes to the supermarket and buys a nice Primitivo. For culinary purposes. Mostly.

Life continues. Grocery shopping continues. And occasionally the gap between who you used to be and who you are now reveals itself in the most mundane, slightly ridiculous moments.

I will say this: the Primitivo was good. Metabolically not my finest decision, but I paired it with a slow-cooked beef shin (in Primitivo!) and a lot of leafy greens, so I'm OK with my decision.

More on that recipe soon.

This content is for educational purposes only and is not medical advice. I'm not a doctor — always consult a qualified professional before making dietary changes, especially if you have a health condition. Every body is different: experiment, listen, and discover what works for you.