I've always been one of those people who loves a good rollercoaster. The thrill of the speed and the twist, turns, drops and the loops, have always gotten my heart racing in the "I'm-so-excited-I-could-squeal" kind of way, as opposed to "I'm-screaming-and-crying-and-I-want-to-get-off". Heck, I've always been a bit of a speed demon - I had the opportunity to take a spin around Symmons Plains in one of the V8 Utes in June this year, and grinned my little face off the whole way. My driver, a friend from way back, warned me to give him the thumbs down if I wanted him to back off - instead I saw him glance my way on the straight and just chuckle.
But sometimes life sends you on a rollercoaster you hadn't prepared for. Which makes me wonder - do I really love them, or am I just able to mentally prepare myself for all the twists and turns so that I cope?
This week has been a proper rollercoaster. A win with a patient at work, who we thought for sure had taken a turn for the worse. Up. Witnessing a woman who I think of as a mentor be disrespected and humiliated. Down. A friend giving birth to her much-awaited baby daughter. Up.
And then, the clincher.
A friend and colleague, diagnosed with breast cancer in her early 30's.
Boom. That's rock bottom, right there.
I had no words. No emotion. No tears. Just numbness. And I am both grateful and heartbroken that the news came second-hand, and I didn't have to process and try to find something both adequately sympathetic and supportive on the spot. This woman is a beautiful, caring, generous soul who is selfless and unconditionally supportive of me on my journey. It breaks my heart that now she must go through a horrendous journey of her own. She is a sister, a mother, a wife, a friend, and though I am by no means a religious woman, I pray that the strength of character and will that she will need in the coming weeks and months is close by.
Sometimes the rollercoaster is fun. Other times it scares you senseless. But I guess that's half the fun of living - you get on, not really knowing what kind of ride you are about to have.
Ahh, it's been a while. Again.
Life gets busy sometimes, doesn't it? I am often guilty of taking on too much - attempting to do too much. I know that anyone who has RA will be able to identify with it, but I am sometimes too naive for my own good. I have a few consecutive days where I would rate myself as 60% or better, then I get excited and do too much, which sends me spiralling back to where it all began. It's a silly thing to do, and I know it, but it doesn't ever seem to stop me!
I spent the weekend in Brisbane, soaking up the gorgeous sunshine and an extra 10 degrees on my usual days, and celebrated a dear friend's wedding. I have never seen her look so proud and gloriously happy, and I was there for her graduation! I am so thrilled that such a kind, generous and loving soul has found someone who compliments her so beautifully, and I was so honoured to be able to share their special day.
The wedding was obviously a high point of my weekend, but there was one other thing that was wonderful about my weekend - I read. Not for work, not for uni, not to learn, but for the sheer pleasure of reading. And boy, had I missed it! I spend so much time reading protocols, guidelines, textbooks, journal articles and other studious media that I had quite honestly forgotten how wonderful it is to immerse yourself completely in a book. I deliberately took a book with me that I knew would be light and enjoyable - "The Younger Man" by the lovely Zoe Foster - and after devouring it in a few hours, had to find something for the plane home. I was pleased to find a book that I had seen a review for and hadn't yet had a chance to track down - "Band-Aid for a Broken Leg - Being a Doctor With No Borders (and other ways to stay single)" by Damien Brown.
I am halfway through and if not for having to go to work, I'd have stayed in bed this morning (under my doona) and finished it off. Check out the many, many positive reviews and track down a copy of the book if you can - it's a fascinating insight into Medecins Sans Frontieres and the marvellous work they do, not to mention the mental toughness of the people who do the work.
On that note, a big weekend (including wearing heels and walking about 20km) means I am utterly exhausted and ready for sleep. Bring on next weekend, and my first opportunity to sleep in!
