"death be not proud"

Angelo has passed away. I had followed his blog and what can I say, he fought with every ounce of his being against his kidney cancer, he fought burocracy he fought his own personal demons and now he is dead. This is not a distant event in a strange country, it is as if someone who is on the same leaky lifeboat as I am has been pulled off the boat. So what now? With his death I came to a realisation cancer can kill me as well. So if I'm living with a sure knowledge that I will die sooner rather than later, why does my life not reflect this? Why do I not live as someone with limited time? And please don't give me all that crap about "but we all have to die someday!!!! It carries no weight in my here and now. I'm in a place where I have to rethink who I am, what I want my life to mean and I want to live so that when I die I'm worn out and empty. Is that however possible?

"What's in a name?"

I was baptized Maria Johanna, good solid names indicating my Dutch decendency. I was given the name of my paternal grandmother. This was against the convention. My brother had been named for my paternal grandfather so I should have been named after my maternal grandmother. But, my mother had decided since mostly boys were being born in our generation, I would be called after my grandmother. She was ostensibly a wonderful person, talented and charming and she drowned in a car accident when she was 48 and my father was five years old. This story has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. And it has been a defining story. Whenever my dad acted crazy, we were told of his mother's sad demise. So I know this story really well. But this is not about my grandmother, but rather her name. for some reason she was called "Minnie" and so was I. It's a good name, a name that fits me really well,... so why do people insist on mispronouncing it? I'm MINNIE not MIENIE and even worse, I'm not MIEMIE. I introduce myself quite clearly as mInnie (something on the line of "Liza with a Zee"!) and yet I'm Mienie. Am I pedantic? I think not. I just like my name to be pronounced correctly or is that asking too much?

"There's a strange beastie in the pool, mother"

The pool in our garden is a creepy green colour with random bits of leaves and insects floating about in gay abandon. And that's exactly the problem, I've abandoned the pool. For some reason (I think it's because I'm the only one that swims) the pool is my responsibility. Usually I test and dip and add a dash of this and a drop of that and it stays a reasonable level of clean but what the hell, let the pool just relax into a space of least resistance. Let it turn green and sludgy because in actual fact, who the fuck cares!!!! When summer's here I'll do the work but for now, the pool is a creative space for green beasties of unknown origin

Chicken

Sometimes I feel like a chicken that has learnt a fabulous trick on a high wire and if everything is in perfect synchronised harmony I can manage the trick by focussing my tiny chicken mind but if one teeny tiny thing is off-kilter I slip and fall into a quagmire of chaos from which there is no return

"And Cancer has given you what?"

What have I benefitted/learned/acquired/lost because of cancer?

The "lost" is the easy one, I've lost peace and a piece of mind, I've lost the ease of the question "How are you?", and oh yes, I've lost a kidney and an adrenal gland. The last one reminds me of Oscar Wilde's famous words, "to lose one parent (substitute "kidney") must be regarded as a misfortune, but to lose both looks like carelessness!" So for fear of being careless, I take better care of the remaining one.

I've acquired a great deal of knowledge, I know about my cancer I know how other people deal with it, I even know much more about death. I've acquired wonderful new internet friends and I've aquired a sense of awe at the human spirit and its ability to soldier on despite some terrible odds.

I have learned to trust my own judgement, I've learned that most people are kind, most doctors really try their best. I've learned that sometimes I cope better and sometimes I fall apart and that beating up on myself is useless. I've learned that help often comes in the strangest forms and I've learned that I don't need to be the cleverest person anymore.

And the benefits?

"Is there anything good about having cancer for you?" Rebecca asked these words of her mom, Onesillymama and those words made me think very hard. Just off the bat I think I would say no, but then I realise something, subsequent to my diagnosis I've been having a tough time in some of my personal relationships. Previously I'd have crumbled into a wailing ball of snot but now... I'm much more resilient and weirdly enough, much more selfish. When problems threaten to overwhelm me, I know that if I can't do anything about them, all I can do is take care of myself so that at least I'm standing fairly upright in the chaos.

And by the way, I now know that as a student I actually suck so while I'm at it I'd better enjoy it and the world as we know it won't stop revolving if I don't get my degree this year.

Call me NED

No Evidence of Disease, that's me and thank you God for keeping me relatively sane. As my post cancer time grows longer I see myself increasingly as a kidney cancer survivor, a person LIVING with cancer. Just after the diagnosis I saw myself as someone who'd experienced a slight glitch in the health department and all will be as normal. I've become increasingly aware that cancer is seldom over and it has placed me under a pall that I'm struggling to get over. Please understand, I'm healthy and extremely grateful for there are people who are engaged in a life or death struggle with so much grace it puts me to shame. Yet, for now, I'm struggling with a new and permanent image of myself that I'm loath to accept. "Aye, There's the rub", the accepting bit.

"scanxiety"

I learnt a new word today, scanxiety, that awful time when you wait for your scan results. I get it about 2 weeks before I've even made my appointment. And in that time I deliberately look up horror stories about kidney cancer and I've ordered a new book, "How we die". What the hell for? Why do I scare myself? To all intents and purposes, I've been very lucky, I was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 2007, it hadn't spread. The bum-rap was however that in the urgency to remove my kidney, a second tumour on my renal gland was missed. So that was removed in 2008. I've been clean and clear and no trace of anything has even been hinted at. I've been clean for 2 and a half years... but I'm scared shitless!
On a more interesting note, or rather, a different note, research has identified bloggers as defining the resurgence of narcissism. And why? Because 40% of all bloggers talk about themselves! What the fuck else must I talk about, my neighbour's barking dogs, the people I meet in the gym or must I retell the stories I've heard today? I know I'm not the centre of the universe but I'm the only person on earth that I know inside and out. This is a wierd kind of public private space. I talk here, if someone wants to listen, that's OK. I read other Blogs because I like to hear what people say about themselves in their lives. If I want gossip, I'd follow a gossip column... or is there such a thing as a gossip blog? Don't know, don't care. So tell me about yourself, I'm a really good listener.