As human beings, we can tend to get wrapped up in our own battles and dramas. It's not necessarily unavoidable - especially if you, like me, have been stuck at home for six weeks or thereabouts with only your pain for company. That said, a healthy dose of perspective is a very, very good thing - and mine came today during a quick outing to the supermarket.
Luckily for me, my darling mummy has been an absolute trooper during my flare. Deep down, I think she's almost enjoyed being 'needed' as I was always the independent child - once I could drive, there wasn't much I couldn't do for myself and I think she almost felt a little bit redundant. My pain has required lots of things to dull it, and I'm very conscious of not attempting to drive when I have taken analgesia. That, and wearing a space boot makes it kind of difficult to drive (but that's another story).
My current collection of mobility aids - I've decided if I have a costume party any time soon I have the costumes all but ready to go as a pensioner (stick), astronaut (boot) or a leper (crutches). Pity the latter would probably also require a limb falling off - but it's early days!
Anyway - my perspective today came on a quick dash in, dash out of the supermarket. Mum and I bumped into the mother of a girl I was friends with at school. She and I were great buddies in early primary school, but grew apart somewhat as we were separated by classes and made new friends. We went to the same high school, and college (here we have a separate year 11 & 12 to the rest of high school), and while I wouldn't say we were close, she was still someone I had a lot of time for. Any time we would run into each other we would say hello, and while I can't speak for her, if I ran into her in the street today I would certainly sit down and have a coffee and catch up. She's been living interstate for around 10 years, and I know there would be lots to talk about. Lots to talk about, like the fact that she has a brain tumour that the best neurosurgeons and oncologists in Australia can't treat.
Brain tumour.
Inoperable.
Cancer.
These are all things that should not be associated with somebody young and vibrant, much less someone young and vibrant who is a good person. They always say that cancer doesn't discriminate - but you don't hear of axe murderers, rapists or otherwise questionable characters being diagnosed with something so awful, do you?
I work in health (when I'm not busy being unhealthy), and diagnoses of young people with cancer are always tough. But the fact that this one is one that is beyond the miracles of modern medicine, that attempting to blast it with radiation or cut it all out would almost certainly be detrimental to her quality of life, well - that just hit me like a freight train. I won't pretend that we are best friends and I am mourning the diagnosis of my closest confidante - nothing annoys me more about these moments than those reactions - but I feel for this beautiful, vibrant young woman, her family, and those closest to her. Her mum assured me that she is in good spirits, typically fiesty about it all, but I can't help but wonder how you make peace with that at age twenty-nine. To go from having seizure out of nowhere to having a brain tumour. I am so grateful to whatever higher power exists that she has found the strength of character to do so, though.
So just when I felt a little defeated by my own battles, I got the dose of reality that I so sorely needed. While I wish I hadn't - as her misfortune to be diagnosed with something so awful is just beyond my comprehension - it was a timely reminder that playing Pollyanna isn't necessarily a bad thing. I may be stuck with this for the rest of my life, but I intend on living with this disease as much as humanly possible, as opposed to suffering from it. You never know what tomorrow will bring.
No comments:
Post a Comment