love

I was asked about my new tattoo yesterday. I haven’t yet understood my need to mark the insights and the awareness that cancer has brought me onto my skin. Maybe its as simple as a need to make my own beautiful statement rather than only see the ugly scars I had no control over. And don’t worry, I do see those as beautiful too now. But you know. And probably also the realisation of the impermanence of it all. So who really cares? Go mad I say. My beautiful refined heart tattoo is shared by all as I hold my hands up in thanks and gratitude and to honour the love in us all. Notice the play on refined and tattoo and see my wry smile. It is no surprise to those who know me that I admire women. I admire all humanity, but I reserve a special spot filled with admiration for the strength and connectedness that exists among women. Those who allow truth to be their story. And we are blessed with many such women in our family. An uniquely strong bond exists between us all. My sister and I are blessed my brother married our soul sister. And my mother is our reluctant heroine. She is beautiful and difficult and funny and delightful and impossible and has an inner strength we all have inherited. And its that strength that binds us and that allows us to know no matter what, we can do and be anything. We all have two daughters. And all six girls are beautiful creatures, both inside and out. And the bond they share is exquisite in its absoluteness. And without this unique and true sisterhood my life would be incomplete and my strength would be diminished. Cancer made us all look up and see once again the fragility of life and the beauty of love. So we decided to honour this beautiful bond and the love we share and we cherish with an exquisitely delicate heart tattoo, connecting us all in a very personal way. We will all always be one and together nothing is impossible. It symbolises the strength our love gives us all. To carry on. To be the change. To honour ourselves and the love we share each and everyday. To know how strong we are. But most of all it celebrates life. And our gratitude for it all. Its a little heart but what it symbolises is huge.

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now

It’s been a month since my last chemo and four short months since my life was thrown into disarray. I’m not sure if the fact that unless I have to I’m not making it out of bed before 11am has everything to do with my body healing from the onslaught that has just been or my mind refusing to deal with my new reality. I am good and positive and so very grateful and my smiles are real but I am struggling a tad. I started taking the Aromasin, despite really resisting it because of the side effects and because, denial. It’s prescribed for advanced breast cancer in post menopausal women. Me. I lied in my earlier post about getting through the grief at losing who I was and having to accept who I really was and am. Well not really because it was a subtle tongue in cheek post and a huge cry for help. And I know I’m not defined by this but it’s my now moment. Then for some macabre reason last week I purchased a book called Without my mum. You got it, the mom dies of cancer at fifty or thereabouts and the woman has to deal with the reality of being a motherless mother. I don’t like that description. And not only because of what it means. It’s just horrid. Could be other ways of saying the same. A motherless mother. Clearly I’m not wishing that on my girls. I mean really how would they cope. That was meant to be funny. So I took my damn tablet. And will for the next 5 years at least. I could simply exercise even more, sprinkle more turmeric, imagine my cancer leaving my body and hope for the best. Or I can be an even more active participant in what is and what will be. So I’ll do both. The only problem is I have to find a way to get out of bed earlier first.

three hundred and sixty six

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15 January. My final grateful, gotta love a leap year. I am grateful for a final contemplative moment. For a weak wireless signal, so I found myself on the balcony desperately seeking connection. To no avail. But an imperfectly perfect end to my 366 gratefuls. I am grateful for real time and real connections. They are all that matter. And for them I will never ever stop being grateful. For love. And for this glorious imperfect life.

three hundred and sixty five

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14 January. My mother-in-law is an inspiration to me, and to anyone who meets her. At 85 she has more energy, a sharper wit, a better handle on a manual vehicle, a keener mind, is better read and more informed than many her junior. In fact, that’s all got nothing to do with her age.  She simply is a woman to behold. And be loved. I am grateful she is in my world, to inspire me daily, to guide me and to give me hope. And always a new perspective.

three hundred and sixty four

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13 January. My friend Leigh. I am grateful for my friend Leigh. For my pioneering friend Leigh. She is a teacher, a sage, a leader, an inspiration. I am grateful for her honesty, her bravery, her sharing, her ear and her forever friendship. She has lived through some serious shit, and that smile is always there. She has taught me there is always a way. To fok maar voort. With style. And grace. And dignity.

three hundred and sixty three

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12 January. I am grateful for family and friends. And friends who are family. Being so far away, maintaining friendships can be hard work, from both sides. I am grateful for those friendships where it never really is. And for those who care as much as I do.