Bucket List wish come true: ‘Terminally Fabulous’ blogger Lisa Magill meets Natalie Bassingthwaighte at the races in Flemington Picture: Lisa Magill

But there was one thing Lisa Magill wanted to tick off her bucket list.

So, through lots of prodding, plenty of chutzpah and a little help from friends, Lisa Magill made her dream come true. Here, Lisa tells her own story.

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“My name is Lisa Magill. I’m the person who used my terminal illness to blag my way into the Emirates Marquee in the Birdcage at the Melbourne Cup.

You see I have a blog called Terminally Fabulous and it chronicles my day to day life living while I’m dying with terminal cancer. I’ve gone from a working, independent 34-year-old woman to a terminal cancer patient whose mum and or dad injects me in the butt every day.

So a couple of weeks ago I thought, ‘stuff it, I’ve been through a lot, I’ve spent a lot of money on this disease and I’ve paid my dues, I don’t need a kitchen renovation or a new car but I’ve always dreamt of going to the Emirates Marquee’.

So I did the thing I always said I would never do and I put a shout out on my blog asking for help. Within hours we had Alex Fevola offering make up services, wonderful milliners such as Neil Grigg offering headpieces, Chris Sheehy, the GH Mumm ambassador inviting us to his Marquee - and then came the kicker.

The divine John Caldwell put on his thinking fascinator and the next thing we know mum and I are crossing live to Studio 10 and being gifted tickets to the Emirates Marquee, accommodation and flights thanks to Emirates and Studio 10.

OMG, we were off and racing!

I started my blog in February, but I was diagnosed as terminal about three years ago.

I have a rare cancer called metastatic undifferentiated gastric sarcoma. It’s almost as rare as seeing Gina Rinehart falling down the stairs at the Emirates Marquee.

Yes, I witnessed it in all its splendour first hand and sadly I laughed. I laughed hard, in fact there may have even been a snort. I’m sorry Gina, I just couldn’t contain myself, but if there’s any consolation, your falling technique was very graceful, hilarious, but graceful.

So basically throughout this sh*t show called cancer I’ve had five major surgeries where I’ve been sliced from pelvis to rib cage and gutted like a fish.

I’ve had five different chemotherapies.

“What’s it like?” people ask.

I would describe it as the never ending hangover times 1000 and no amount of greasy egg and bacon rolls make it better.

You’re bald as a badger, no eye lashes or eye brows. People just can’t help but stare. I get it. It’s human nature, I’d be the same.

I’ve had immunotherapies that cost $7,000 every three weeks — and one of them has caused me permanent lung damage — blood transfusions, 6500 visits to A & E (I’m still waiting for a rewards program to be introduced), a few ICU admissions and of course there was the time I was rendered unconscious and they brought me back, but the doctors were crying in the halls telling my Mum I wouldn’t make it.

Lisa Magill: still smiling in the face of constant pain. Picture: Lisa MagillSource:Supplied

I’ve had the last rites, been told at least five times I would be lucky to survive another week and that’s basically a quick background of my story.

I felt obligated to share my story because I was sick to death of the unicorns and fairytale bullsh*t blogs that many cancer patients write about.

Drink your own urine that’s been heated to 38.5 degrees, mixed with turmeric and blended with gold dust. Kale is the new wonder drug, turmeric is the new wonder drug, juicing is the new wonder drug. Cut out sugar, gluten, lactose, fructose, basically anything that resembles something edible-cut it out RIGHT NOW!

Do yoga in the morning facing due north while humming Hanson’s MmmBop and wearing no underwear, brush your teeth anticlockwise while standing on one foot burping the National anthem and my favourite of them all: “Cancer is a gift”.

Well I’ll tell you now, if I woke up on Christmas morning and terminal cancer was my present, I’d be asking if you’d kept the receipt and exchanging it for a handbag in the Boxing Day sales.

Cancer a gift? My ass. In fact it’s a pain in the ass, other than making you realise that you are not immortal and perhaps encouraging you to appreciate your loved ones more, cancer is not a frigging gift!

RACE DAY

Okay, so that’s me. But hey, I’m here to tell you about my big day. Most women dream of their wedding. I dreamt of the birdcage, this was my wedding.

Mum and I had our hair and make-up done at Runway Room in Prahran, I squeezed myself into my dress (WD40 would have come in handy) and if I do say so myself we looked fanbloodytastic. We were chauffeured in a limo and walked up the artificial grass-laid-stairway to heaven that is The Birdcage. We made it, a couple of plebs being escorted by Emirates staff through throngs of wannabes, have-beens and the you-just-wish-you-were-me. It was, in a word I like to pull out now and then with both embarrassment and pride, AMAZEBALLS!

Lisa having an AMAZEBALLS times at the races. Picture: Lisa MagillSource:Supplied

We were checked off the list at the door and given our yellow wristbands, by this point we were feeling like celebrities, but I was quickly reminded of my pleb status when a well known cravat wearing gentleman from some reality cooking show was quickly ushered in and a person signalled to not give him the yellow wristband.

So even when you get in there you’re still pleb distinguishable by your wristband or lack thereof. Yellow wristband or not, I don’t care.

The Emirates marquee was stunning, refined and most importantly the champagne was flowing. I mingled with an ex neighbours star/singer/talent show judge, chatted with my favourite Melbourne housewife Chyka, (by the way she is tall, I always thought she was short, but she’s almost Amazonian) just as gorgeous in real life as she is on TV.

There was the now-politician, ex-TV host, radio host and let’s not forget ex-convict who walked around for a good half an hour with a bit of food in his beard.

I was sorta kinda propositioned by an ex-Bachie contestant........flattered hell yeah, but let’s be serious they were a ‘bit’ tipsy and I’m sure if they woke up with me lying next to them in the bed the next morning they’d probably call security thinking I had broken into their room in the middle of the night.

There was the real life cockatoo in a tree for the perfect “bird” cage selfie, Molly Meldrum and his pink tiara, Alex Perry with his perma tan and ubiquitous sunnies attached to his head.

We also ventured into the GH Mumm (honestly my favourite champagne of all time!) marquee where there was sabering of huge champagne bottles, acrobats swinging above a pool, a DJ doing her thing and Julie Bishop shaking every single hand in the place. No wonder she has arms that could rival any 20 year old fitness instructor.

Overall my experience in the birdcage and the Emirates Marquee was something that I will probably never get to do again, for me it was a once in a lifetime thing that I’ve dreamt of since I was old enough to know what the Birdcage was.

Chyha Keebaugh with Lisa and her mum inside the Emirates Marquee Picture: Lisa MagillSource:Supplied

Would I go again? Hell yes!!

I was worth being in pain the next day and having to use my wheelchair. So as long as my good friend the Grim Reaper doesn’t decide to tap me on the shoulder between now and the first Tuesday in November 2017 and someone wants to invite me, I will happily be your plus one.

My pyjamas, a good shot of morphine and the news are calling my name.

Yep, I was back in my PJs on Cup Day before the 6 o’clock news.

Such a party animal!

- To find out more information about Lisa, visit her blog, Terminally Fabulous.

- As told to Melissa Hoyer.