19 December. I am grateful we made it to Sydney, for my own words whispered in my ear by my sweetest Jem, mom, this too will pass, and for the best sister imaginable.
I just realised I’m a bit of a fraud. I just had surgery. And it was cosmetic. Well, not really. Actually not at all, but it was a lift. Of sorts. An internal one. To my bowel. Shudder. I’m a fraud because as you all know I am a tad anti cosmetic surgery, because of how weird women ultimately end up looking. And I think women are beautiful, all women, old or young, just as they are. So now I’m wondering. It’s all just the same really. To stop the sag of life. In my case caused by childbirth, a lifetime on my feet and hastened by chemotherapy. You’ve just got to love how cancer is a gift that just keeps giving. I do try to embrace the passing of time and relish every little moment, punctuated by gratitude, but the last couple of days have been delightfully challenging. Those who know me well, know that I have privacy issues when it comes to that area of my anatomy. We all do, but it seems me more than most. Well, clearly no longer. And to be honest, do with me what you will, the knowledge that nothing sinister was lurking, made it all worthwhile. So, to anyone contemplating any form of surgery to rectify the sag, I say, go for it.
I met a wonderful friend of a friend of mine yesterday. I can’t stop thinking about her. You see she is a warrior woman. A gentle tenacious bright funny warrior woman, who has a brain tumour and was given 14 months to live. She was told the doctors could do no more for her. So she pursued her own path. She is currently on 27 months and counting. She has been dealt many blows by life yet is positive, witty and real. She is self effacing and humble. She is an inspiration and she is my fear. Was my fear. You see she also had breast cancer and a mastectomy and chemo and all the stuff they scare you into having to make sure you are here five years later. She made her five years and had just decided against a big celebration of life party when they discovered her brain tumour, a secondary from her breast cancer. I have no doubt the irony did not escape her. That meaningless silly bloody goal of 5 years that we hold like a beacon of hope, living in limbo, counting the years, months, weeks and days, definitely even if not obviously, believing that on the stroke of midnight of our last day of being 5 years cancer free, we will finally be set free. Free from cancer. Free from fear. And whilst I booted fear a while back, meeting her made me face it for real. She gave me goosebumps and her matter of fact retelling of her tale reduced me to tears. But not for me, but for the wonderful inspiring human being I was graced to be in the company of. I would be proud to be her. I am honoured to have a daughter named Kate just like her. May she grow to be just like the warrior woman I met yesterday. Strong and present and true.
I struggle to watch the events unfolding in Gaza. Especially the images of the children who suffer so. It is all meaningless and so desperately sad. I am so grateful that my children are safe in their beds and wish with all my heart that so were all the children of this messed up world. Every single one of them.