Jeremy Clarke: Laughing in the face of death – a story of the final years

But you look so well!” How many times have I heard that lately. “But you should see the rest of it,” I laugh gaily, detailing the bulge in my neck where the chemotherapy tube remains in place; the young Brigitte Bardot breasts; the scarred, punctured jelly belly; the spindle shanks; the lizard-skin calves; the knobbly feet; the black toenails oozing some sort of clear liquid that I don’t enquire about. And vanity whispers: “Perhaps it’s true!” Maybe some sort of psychic flaring is making me attractive to those with an eye for that sort of thing. Or there are the “Well, we’ve all got to go some time” merchants. Being nothing is normal, my son, so you’d better get used to the idea.” open image in gallery ‘Nature is unfair, but it offers some excellent remedies and compensations’ “Why, thank you very much,” I say.