I would like to take a moment to thank a few people. Firstly, I’d like to thank the whole of Twitter. You’ve all been absolutely brilliant. Both those I know in real life, those that I sometimes communicate with and then other, equally important, ‘tweeps’ who’ve messaged me with support despite having only ever seen my dripfeed of daily diarrhoea online.  I can’t tell you how much your comments mean. I would thank you all individually if I could. And I intend to. Overwhelming and totally undeserving.

Secondly, you. People of the Internets! Incredibly, (and probably mistakenly) my blog was featured on the ‘Freshly Pressed‘ section of WordPress’ front page. I received more attention than that time I literally pissed myself in school orchestra. (“KEEP PLAYING LEO, KEEP. BLOODY. PLAYING.”).  The comments section of my blog included some of the most touching empathy and heart-rending personal accounts I’ve ever come across. Your bravery has bolstered my own resolve. And also made me feel like a bit of a twat for going on about myself. Thank you.

I’d also like to thank those friends who’ve barraged me with calls, texts and messages telling me the cancer couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. You’re absolutely right.

I’d like, quite obviously, to thank the Doctor’s, nurses, specialists and, most importantly, surgeons who have helped me through the past few weeks. I will, however, never forgive myself for forgetting to write a note of wince-inducing offence on my body to be discovered mid-surgery. Next cancer, I promise.

*ahem* Adidas, you seeing this?

A particular shout-out should go to my training partners with whom I was due to travel last weekend to Austria for the World’s biggest Decathlon competition. All international-standard athletes themselves, they managed to grab some pictures with the winner, and reigning World Champion, Trey Hardee and some others too with a sign name-checking the one-ball chump who got left behind (see alongside). Don’t worry Rog (holding sign), the fact that I told you it wasn’t worth coming back if you failed in this mission in no way lessens my opinion of your efforts. All that colouring-in…

My family has been an absolute rock for me. I think, frankly, I could have done with a few more tears but they have rallied around me and continued to treat with me the same sneering vitriol that I have come to expect. It’s what grounds me. In all honesty though it is their stability that has meant I haven’t felt like the world was falling apart, when so many others are going through so much worse. I should also apologise to them as well given that I have been an absolute nightmare blend of belligerence and breezy nonchalance. I’ve been the absolute epitome of familial concern whilst acting like an asinine twat-hammock at every turn.

Lucy's kindest gesture of sympathy during my own illness- liver failure.

A final, special mention must go to a particular friend of mine. She has rearranged her entire life this past couple of weeks to make sure she could accompany me to all of my appointments (she of the ‘harvesting’ offer here), has helped put things in perspective (“You’re a dickhead, with OR without cancer Leo”), and has cracked me up throughout (lying on a busy cancer clinic’s waiting room sofa crying with laughter was one of the best – and probably most inappropriate – moments this year). She has a frustratingly good measure of when I’m lying through my teeth about the fact “I’m fine, honestly”, but more importantly knows what to do when I’m not.

She is one of the most selfless people I know and has . (I am turning a blind eye to the fact she spent the day counting her new Twitter followers outloud as a result of her last mention). Thank you Luce.

Thank you again everyone. I really hope you all get cancer soon so I can return your kindness.