Fuck The Fancer

Ok, so this one is a bit of a curve ball. The cancer kind of curve ball. Not the kind that you need to immediately divert off this page because I said the C-word (and no I don’t mean cunt, although that potentially, almost definitely features here too) but the kind that I want you to read because someone wanted me to write this. Aside from her ability to effortlessly ooze fabulous-ness, the word effervescent repeatedly springs to mind as does her incredible talent to curate witty and original Facebook status’s like no one you’ve ever met.

May I introduce, Ali Nightingale. 

As I said, Ali asked me to write this piece. And when I say she asked, I mean during our annual Christmas drinks she pointed at me, glass of fizz in hand with a lip smacking layer of Coco Rouge on and said ‘‘you’re going to write a blog about my fanny cancer” or as we so later referred to it…The Fancer. Even later on it morphed into The Cuntcer. All the while these titles were only said in an Irish accent. Think Dublin. Why? I’m not entirely sure, but you’ll appreciate it all the more if you just role with the Irish twang.

Ok focus. So here’s just a little back story of our relationship. Ali is The Mother Hen’s bestie. Her back in the day bestie. The kind that probably has enough dirt on Su that she could ruin her in 30 seconds flat. Not that I remember, but The Mother Hen and The Nightingale had many a Christmas together with their rugrats when they first became single mums. Knowing those two I can only imagine them to be rather marvellous, champagne fuelled, cackle inducing Christmas days.

All in all, she’s known me my whole life and it’s always at this time of year that we get together as a family to cause some mayhem. This year in particular included listing as many different names for a Lady Garden as we could until the table next to us got up and left. My favourite has to be Vaginé. Pronunciation? Vach-een-ay.

So, what’s the point about me rambling on about Beavers? Well, in Ali’s case she doesn’t have Ovarian Cancer or Cervical Cancer which most of us are all aware of (Irish accent at the ready) she’s got The Fancer! You can thank The Mother Hen and The Grandmother for my rather twisted sense of humour. Anyway, I believe the medical term is Vulval Cancer. For those of you who don’t know what the Vulva is, think Labia. For those of you who don’t know what the Labia is, may I suggest you get yourself on Google. Toot sweet after that I suggest you take a moment to also check out the clitoris. You can thank me later.

Around 1 in 1300 cases are diagnosed in the UK every year so Vulval Cancer isn’t all too common. Yet this is exactly why this blog came to be. To spread awareness of The Fancer! First up? Let’s talk symptoms…

- a lasting itch on your Twat

- pain or soreness of the Minge

- thickened, raised, red, white or dark patches on the skin of the Muff

- an open sore or growth visible on the skin of the Noonie

- burning pain when you pass urine from your Minnie

- discharge or bleeding from your Hoohah

- a mole on the Kitty that changes shape or colour

- a lump or swelling in the Wizard’s Sleeve

- a lump in the groin

Now Gents, you must also take note. You may not personally own a Tunnel of Love but if you have a girlie friend, hopefully you’ll be spending enough time down there that you too could notice these potential abnormalities. Ladies, should you think you have any of these symptoms go and see your GP as soon as possible.

It is worth noting that The Fancer is not going to manifest into all of these symptoms at once. In fact, Ali just happened across a ridge-like lump and after a visit to her GP was undergoing curative surgery only a few weeks later.

Whilst attempting to add in as many alternatives for the Vaginé as possible has been rather amusing (if you can think of more than what is available on Urban Dictionary do let me know, perhaps an impossible task I feel) the point of this is to spread awareness of The Fancer. And if by now you’re not using the Irish accent, poor form from you.

Seriously though…who the fuck doesn’t love the term Lady Garden!