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Satiated
We went away this past weekend to Woody Head, NSW with my sister and her family. It was the first trip away since giving up our foster children due to my breast cancer diagnosis. It was so wonderful.
So fantastic to see my own children blossoming under more intense one on one time, and so bittersweet catching moments that I know my foster children would have loved. That I could have enhanced for their character development and memory making.
Our boys spent hours in the rock pools trying to catch little critters.
This was also my first trip away since starting chemotherapy. Its such a strange existance. You feel so self consious all the time, of your mono boob, your lack of hair, your misplaced prosthetic, your easy fatique. Exposed. I feel constantly exposed. And that makes me feel emotionally raw. But then, the paradox is that you walk around kind of hoping that people know you are a cancer patient. Almost wanting to announce it. So that the cancer patient status will excuse your overuse of scarves, oversized shirts, lopsided boobs (and one that doesnt wobble or stay in place) and your out of breathe walk and yellowy complexion. “Please dont think this is just the way I choose to be, please understand that I am actually going through a trauma here”, I feel like saying to all the passers by. But then, a second after that same thought I think, “please dont notice me, look at me, sympathetically smile at me, I am tired of being exposed to the world”.
So what a blessing it is to have normal moments. Like watching my oldest Blayke chop firewood, at sunset by the beach for a marshmellow feast, and my middle boy Noah, shuffling on the top of a tree trunk 2 meters in the air, and watching my son Jezak cook us dinner, and my husband Lee instructing him. What a magnificent man he is, and he is growing a crop of magnificent men to walk kindly in the world.
Snapshots of happiness in our lives need to be grasped with both hands. You need to hold them tight and drink them in. Let them fill you up and explode back out of you.
If Saturday at Woody Head was all I had left how satisfied would I have been? Satiated.
Breathing in the fresh air, calmed by the crashing waves, in awe of the beauty in the sunset, the crooked wind formed trees, and comforted by the beautiful people I have been blessed to share this life with.
Sneakily Happy with all Aspects of my Life! Even this sick part, because it gifts you with perspective that is unattainable when living mainstream.
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Midnight Morbidity
This is the introduction in the book I have been writing and just thought I would share. A lot of my support network won’t like to hear what I have written. So if thats you, don’t read it!Do you think it’s morbid that I have planned my funeral? I don’t think that I am going to die. But then, how can I be sure? I am not being negative. In fact all of the time I feel completely positive and sure that I will survive this. But what if I don’t? What if this journey won’t be over when treatment ends? What if the cancer comes back? Or what if it doesn’t all go in the first place? What if this dark and horrible part of my life is just a segway into an even more horrible, dark unending part? And by thinking this way have I succumbed to the dreaded negativity that people talk about that can hinder you’re healing? They all tell you that it’s your attitude that will determine your outcome. Is my attitude ok?
Is it weird that I am excited that my funeral plans are kind of cool? I have picked some songs, but mostly I want glitter. I want some glitter in the programs, and glitter shot out of cannons, and glitter on the coffin. Oh, and I would love a pass the parcel, where each layer opened reveals a photo from my life that the person can keep, that has a story written on the back about how happy people made me, that the person can read out to the crowd (Or the diminished few!). And I want little party bags handed out to everyone that comes, with some lollies, and random great sayings inside the bag. I want everyone to know how important they were to me. But most of all I want them to half smile, half curse when 3 weeks after my funeral they are still finding glitter stuck to the floor of their car and shoes.
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driving in traffic
Do you ever look at the traffic and think where on earth is everyone going? Each person in those cars is off on some kind of errand, they have an agenda, a purpose.Since being diagnosed with cancer, I feel like I am just riding in a car, that is going nowhere. You just drive around and around. There is no destination, there is no reason to be in a car, you’re just driving. But you cant rest your eyes, or take your hand off the wheel or pull over. You just keep driving, wondering when someone will tell you where you are meant to be headed, what you are meant to be doing, and if there is any point at all to being stuck in the dang traffic.
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He bought a lemon
He bought a lemon; my man did,
when he fell for the likes of me.
No easy paved road,
No honey smooth nights,
No silver lining to be seen.
Got no beauty,
Got no left boob,
My wombs dried up and our sex life too,
My hairs all gone,
and I cry all day
the way I howl, puts the dogs to shame.
I don’t laugh much,
rarely offer kind words,
I’m demanding,
I’m bossy,
I’m sloppy, it’s absurd….
That he bought a lemon; my man did,
when he fell for the likes of me
Yet when I say, “Im a scrap of old rag”
A scarf of fine silk’s all he sees.
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Sorry
Im sorry to inconvenience you
Ill try to do my best
To wear a brave face and slap on a smile
And not require too much restIm sorry if i appear selfish
With my requests, fatigue and complain
I really wish i would not to be this way
But clearly that wishings in vainIm sorry ive become a burden
That no longer i give but i take
Im hoping your vision comes to fruition
And i am fine, no needs to makeBut what if this battle gets worse yet?
What if this roads been the start?
If self sufficency is a thing of the past,
And i need extra nurture of my heart?Im sorry this thing isnt easy
Id throw it away if I could
But knowing its me and not any of you
Makes me glad, as it should -
No more crying in the shower
No more torment hour by hour
It’s taken what it can of me
But more of this girl yet will be freed,
So, no more breaking of my heart
I’m taking over this cancerous farce.
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Thats not a Weapon!!
“Its not a weapon its a fing for whacking fwends wif!!! 4yo
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Betty Boob
Surgery is over, and I would like to introduce you to the sexiest prosthetic you will ever meet. Betty Boob.
I will be sharing many adventures with my new friend Betty.
On Wednesday, my friend Sikiki and I decided to go for a pedicure, you know, so that we could feel a bit good. Well we went to a cheap place, with the massage chair and the unsanitary water… lovely!!
As I sat back and looked over at my precious friend, I noticed how with the vibrations of the chair her perky, non cancerous breasts jiggled so musically. With curiosity I looked down at my lone boob, wondering how one jiggly jug would look… but Betty boob had stolen the
show. That dang sassy prosthetic had bumped and jiggled its way out of its spot to sit on top of my leftover breast, and half way up my neck.Typical. Stage Hog.
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This is just the New Existence
My lovely brother was visiting from Perth on Tuesday, and I drove to the city to pick him up. On the drive home, we talked about a dear friend going through a difficult custody battle. My brother began telling me about a book he recently read called Morgans Run, and about how the main character has gone through multiple traumas. How time after time, the character is thrown a raw deal, and through all of this difficulty he accepts his new lot with an embracing courage. There is no need to question why, there is no point in being angry or sorry or resentful. This is just the new that we have to exist through.
So now I embrace the newest thing. It is what it is, and its a story we will one day tell. Thats all.
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what would you like for your birthday?
Tucking in Mr 3YO soon to be 4…
“What would you like me to get you for your birthday, honey?”
“OO when I growed up I wanna be a fire man, I needs a fire
truck!”“Ok, I will have a look at fire trucks”
“and Briohne, Fire mens need Holy Copters too!”
