Sunday, October 24, 2010

The urging to help people is really strong tonight. I read the posts of the suppory group for HL and my heart bleeds, I feel so helpless sitting here on a keyboard offering nothing more than how HL has affected me.
What's worse is I find myself saying things that I use to hate hearing like "think positive thoughts" or "look on the positive side". Of what? The toliet bowl? Cause that's where I've spent the last two days.
What happens to us when we begin to grow our hair agin and the hole where our Picc line used to thread heals over? We lose what it was to be there, to be in that place that is literally inconsolable. That place so dark that you are positive there are no others that could even faintly fathom what is happening in your world. This place, this spinning all alone on a lonely black planet where you are tortured by thoughts of "what if" and "should I". Thoughts on the monster that has begun to unravel your very soul, starting from the skin in.
I don't care what others swear to, you come out no better; but worse. You are in no way improved.
And these are no lessons that couldn't have been learnt by another method.


  1. Whenever you fiddle with this theme, it reminds me of a U2 lyric, and I'm sure you'll understand why:

    Every artist is a cannibal,
    Every poet is a thief,
    All kill their inspiration,
    And sing about their grief.

  2. Annie,

    I've always enjoyed reading your philosophical, and real discourse pertaining to the struggle. Cancer? I've never been a big fan of that term; placing a name on a barbarian shows an undeserved respect in my eyes.

    Does a day ever go past that you don't think about it? It seems to be such an integrated part of the afflicted, it would almost be ignorance to try and forget. Do you ever feel as if it was bestowed upon you for a greater reason then understood yet? To educate, inform, and ultimately do a good larger then you, the spoken protagonist?

    How could you learn the true meaning of empathy, without ever being there before? How could you learn pity, until others have pitied you? How could you ever truly comfort, not knowing how he feels?

    I found you on, my alias there is "fungusbrew". You comforted me in the little communication we had. Killing aliens, and hunting terrorists until the sun came up, definitely proved to be a welcome outlet. Channeling anger into a goblins face, never ceases to put a smile on mine.

    Really hope all is well, and I'm still envious that you're "lucky" enough to live in Australia. Ever since I've read Bill Brysons' "Down Under", and "In A Sunburned Country", It's been a dream of mine to get out there. I truly hope all is well, and you don't have to go through this crap again.

  3. My friend Fungus, it is so wonderful to hear from you again. I'm glad you got some relief from the suggestions I made about passing the early hours of the morning when everyone else is asleep.
    To answer honestly, no. A day never passes without me considering cancer in some way. Often, it's buried in my every choice and my every respite throughout the days. No always bad, not always pleasant. But always there, yes.
    In retrospect, I agree with you in your ideal that we have learnt the most valuable of all lessons- genuity in care and sympathy. You are right, what is dark if there is no light? How will we recognise happiness if we've never felt its absence.
    Although my analytical mind recognises this, my heart still beats in longing for oblivion.
    I'm including a favourite painting of mine by John Milton, aptly named 'Sadak in Search of the Waters of Oblivion'.
    Thank-you so much for coming to the site and remarking.
    P.S. Australia is as beautiful as they all say. Everything, all the time.

  4. So what's the deal now? How is everything? Have you taken a scan yet? Your hair, is it still there?! Are you experiencing any after effects? Sorry for the twenty questions, it's just I'm lacking chemo buddies (my age?) to relate with.

    I personally was hoping for some long, flowing, Swedish style golden locks to flick in the air(or an afro would have been cool..), but alas, my old widows peak and dirty blond pushed through.

  5. Interesting you post something about John Martin. My summer was spent overseas detoxing with some good buddies around Europe. In our Venetian hotel; directly over my bed; was a beautiful impressionistic painting called, 'Evening(or night?)Lights' (I think) Martin. A tad bit brighter then Sadeks' Oblivion!

  6. Isn't Italy the most beautiful place in the world? In May of 2008, I bought a ticket for myself to go over and see the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Imagine, a lone female travelling half way across the world to see a ceiling?
    In return for my dedication I instantly fell head over heels in love with the country.
    I hung closely to my memories - sights, sounds, tastes and smells of Italy as I was enduring chemo and treatment. I fondly remember laying in the emergency deptartment of the hospital dosed up to eyeballs and hearing nothing but the bells of St Marks in the Square of Venice. And the smell of the rain as the locals placed wooden planks across the square above the flooding. The sound of an orchestra that played during the storm and echoed through the rising canals.
    I am well. I had my six month scans last week and the doctor has given me the clear assuring me that I have another stress-free four months before I have to see him again. My hair has returned as it was, almost as though I had never lost it. It is growing rapidly however and I can now wear longer and tuck it behind my ears. Tell me, do you still hesitate before towel-drying or raking your hands through yours? I can still feel the brittle shards of it between my fingers, every damn time.
    My skin is glowing and I'm told I look the healthiest I ever have. But inside, the storm still brews. Thoughts on every matter haunt me, and this demise has overtaken the very freedom I once cherished so ardently.
    I am no longer familar with this vessel that is in my care. I can no longer control nor comprehend it, and this frightens me at times. My body has failed me and has proved itself to be vunerable when I had always expected my mind to crumple under pressure.
    If only we didn't have our bodies to hold us back. Just think of the possibilites, the mind is limitless.