Jill - A Requiem

JILL - A REQUIEM

(written 7th April 2010)

Tuesday.

Yesterday my friend died.

She wasn't beautiful - except inwardly. But she wasn't 'fat and ugly' as she termed herself in one of our very recent telephone conversations. Actually, she was what my grandfather would have called 'a fine figure of a woman'. In the past, people appreciated that very thin can mean you're coming down with some fatal disease and not likely to live long enough to bring up your children. Yet in 1999, she was able to denigrate herself because of a few kilos.

She was neither very tall nor very short - but she was shorter than she'd been when we first met. The osteoporosis had seen to that. And her several other illnesses were seeing to her being brought down in other ways.

This wasn't Jill's first tough time. When she shared the limelight with me on the Midday Show with Ray Martin on Channel 9 TV it was to show the world at large what can be done to move forward after you've been struck by divorce.

She'd done it tough much of her life. But she'd always kept on keeping on. For years she helped other people move forward after their divorces and widowhood, as the facilitator of a couple of singles social groups.

And she had brought up her two boys. Fine young men now. It was one of them who phoned me with the sad news - as I was driving along North Rd Brighton in fairly heavy traffic (isn't it always, on that road?).

I'm a very careful driver. I want to live as long as possible, now I'm old enough to understand how to get the full measure of living out of every day, every moment. So I pulled to the side of the road before answering my mobile phone.

Sitting at the side of the road with your car still idling, your foot still on the brake, the constant muted roar of hundreds of cars going by, isn't the ideal setting for hearing 'I'm sorry to tell you that my mother died yesterday'.

Wise of them to allow themselves some time to let the grief and loss wash over them before they felt it necessary to start phoning around. That's the right and proper thing to do. The grief of others can never possibly begin to parallel theirs.

Yet it is slightly strange, in this era of instant communication to know a friend has been gone for twenty four or thirty six hours while you went about your own business, not knowing there was a gaping yawning hole where this person had previously resided in your world. My gosh, we all knew Princess Di was dead sooner than that!

I continued the drive to where I was expected, apologizing for being late and asked Bill for a hug, as I explained the reason. Bill works for an organisation that helps others and I know he's experienced many griefs of his own. He is for me, part of what I would perhaps call a 'circle of hearts'. People I know who understand the difficulties we run into in this tough old life. People who'll just hear what you say, without any false histrionics. 'Your friend has died. You just heard about it, coming here? Do you want to sit down and have a coffee and take a breather? Or do you want to get down to business?'

I was grateful for the choice. 'Let's get into it' and we did. His caring matter of factness gave me the option to also 'fall over' when I was ready for it - when the business was done and I needed to sit down and allow myself to move along with the feelings I was experiencing. 'Every five minutes or so a wave of nausea is washing over me Bill'.

It's so strange sitting at a table, drinking a healing beverage, while other people walk in, say hello, pass a neutral comment, not knowing. And you smile and respond to them, suspending your conversation about death and your only truly conscious thought 'My friend is dead. And I only saw her, spent time with her, laughed, read a poem about death, exactly one week ago'!

I'd taken her my poem because her death was to be no surprise to us. She knew she was going. She'd been told not to expect to see Christmas although she was only 54.

Yet so very soon? I'd thought she had at least another two or three weeks; another two or three phone conversations; another week or two to get used to the idea.

I knew she was doing it tough, breathing had become something of a luxury. And she wasn't the type of person to enjoy being pushed around in a wheelchair. When she'd always been her own 'prime mover'.

On Thursday I will go to her funeral. I expect there to be a very large turn out. Jill was a person who lived her life to the full. 'Am I?' she queried, when I put this to her just last week, sitting by her bed. Then only minutes later her great big wonderful full bodied laugh was rolling out, filling with joy the bedroom she was now confined to. How could she not know, not remember? I do hope that my reminding her - 'Yes, I suppose I did' she'd finally said 'When you put it that way' - gave her at least a little joy, put her back in touch with at least a little of the reality of her previous years when that was true.

To me, even on that day she was living her life very fully. Because she was still making her own decisions, deciding not to fight this last battle as if life on this earth is all there is.
She promised to put a flower in the fly wire screen of my front door, if she can, afterwards, 'Just to prove I'm still out there.' We both laughed heartily at her naming of the 'great frustration'. 'That would be the very worst thing to me' she claimed 'if I could see you all, but wasn't allowed to touch'.

I'm waiting for that flower Jill. I'm waiting. Don't you let me down.

Beating Cancer- Episode 2

Beating Cancer - Episode 2

It's interesting how different the responses are from different people when you 'go down with' cancer.

My dear daughter, Cath, came down from Canberra 600 kilometres away, when she knew I was in hospital for the surgery. Arriving while I was still flat on my back, not allowed to sit up for at least a week because I'd been opened up from sternum to pelvic bone.

As I said in my last post, my children have seen me endure a number of different illnesses. So Cath greeted me with 'Mum, I've worked it out'.

'What have you worked out Cath.'

'Well - when you were due to be born the angels went to God and said "We have a soul ready to be sent to earth, but there's no body to go with it". Suddenly a little angel at the back of the crowd jumped up excitedly and called out "There is one over there in the corner. It's a bit faulty ----" and before he could say another word God said 'It'll have to do!"

And then I had to try not to laugh! It was such a fantastic visual metaphor for my physical life up to that point.

On the other hand, my son Steve couldn’t get himself to say ‘the word’. He referred to it as ‘this thing’. ‘Now you’ve got this thing Mum, are you sorry you left Cockatoo?’ he asked. I’d lived in Cockatoo, up in the beautiful Dandenong Ranges, for eleven years, only moving really close to Melbourn's CBD a couple of years before the cancer struck.

That was a journey I’d consciously chosen, because I needed to be nearer to the City, for business reasons. As soon as Steve asked that question I realised what had happened. My daughter in law is a very experienced nurse educator and I know she’d told him I was going to die. And of course that was on the cards.

So I thought ‘Heavens, Steve is picturing me lying on my four seater lounge, looking out the huge glass windows at the lovely mountain ash trees, slowly dying, like someone in a tragic opera. But I responded ‘Steve, I’ve never been so glad to be close to the City. It’s enabled me to be treated at the very best hospital, close to home, no worries about travel’ – and closer to the friends who would help me.

Each of my sons and daughters have told me at different times over many years that they’ve used me as a role model, because regardless of all the problems I’ve had, they see I’ve stayed busy and involved with all sorts of causes and achieved more than anyone else they know – so they tell me. You can’t imagine how thrilled they were when my first book was published when I was 50.

One of the things that we come up against with a diagnosis of cancer, is of course the question of whether you may have to leave this world. And if you do, has the cancer won?

Can you beat cancer? Or can you find a way to beat it, whether you live or die, by finding a way to live each minute of each hour of each day so fully, that you’ve lived a lifetime of experience and growth anyway?

I’m so happy for readers such as yourselves who are prepared to explore these issues.

When you’re told you have cancer your world stops in its tracks. At least momentarily.

Here comes your big learning curve.

First you learn that Cancer is not just one illness. It’s different depending on where it is in your body, what stage it’s at, how long it’s been there, whether it’s spread to other organs. They’re all called cancer, simply because the cells are not dying off as they should.

You’ll hear Doctors and Nurses talking about ‘staging’ cancer. They’re referring to the four stages. It begins from one cell which then proliferates into a larger lump, but first of all contained in one solid mass; then it moves outside that mass and begins to create its own blood vessels – that’s really nasty of it, isn’t it? It makes sure that no matter what happens to you, it has it’s own blood supply, so it can grow as quickly as it likes – that’s stage 2; Next – stage 3, it’s moved to the lymph nodes; before stage 4, where it’s settled in some other organ and is growing there.

My surgeon thought at first that he’d got all there was – then six days later came the news ‘It’s into the lymph nodes’. So it had gone from stage 1 to stage 3 of only 4 stages. Not good news. But I'm stilll here.

And many people today are fortunate enough to receive a diagnosis at the very earliest stage. Often breast cancer is found at that point due to the routine screening we've all been encouraged to have. And that's great news.

But even then there’s the myth of unendurable pain that’s grown up around the very word – cancer. And the possibility of death somewhere down the track.

I had of course been faced with the possibility of my death coming very swiftly - and by that time I didn't care.

Yet this all points out how each person's journey through cancer is different. And very different are the ways each of us cope with it.
The day after I'd written the first poem 'Cancer - Ho Hum' that I posted last time, I heard of a friend who lives in another Australian State - some thousand or more kilometres away, who had just been diagnosed with myelosis. We shared the experience of being solo parents after a divorce and now living alone. So I knew that she would be feeling stranded, because of that situation plus the loneliness of being the person with cancer. So I sat down and wrote :

COMMUNITY OF SURVIVORS

You are not alone
The poverty of illness
the aloneness
You share with others
alone with pain

The night flows through
Happy people smiling
You are not alone Beryl
You are not alone

All about you
are others
Who are like you
alone
But not alone
with this shared experience

I am with you all
when I hear of
your pain
your long day
Like my pain
like my long day
alone

Not alone

               10th September – late night

I've always been hesitant about offering my work to others who haven't asked for it, or bought one of my books. Never the less I knew of her need, so bit the bullet and sent a copy to her.

Glory of glories, a few days later I received her letter "Beryl thank you so much. Your poem was exactly what I needed right at that time"

This joyful response has now happened to me so many times when I've gathered up my courage and risked being wrong, but finding I was right to make the offering, that I've become quite brave about doing that.

I hope someone reading this today will find it's 'just the right thing, at the right time'.

See you same time, same place, next week.

Many blessings to all

Beryl

Working through the storm

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Courage and Cancer

Let me tell you a little more about my reasons for creating these Blogs:

I want to support all those people who have, or have had cancer; all those who love and wish to support them; your workmates who don't know what to do, what to say.

There will also always be ideas here for people who, like myself, share a world view that includes giving to others, helping them achieve their life’s desire; whether that’s in their personal or business life.

So I want these posts to offer inspiration, uplifting thoughts and ideas. Short items. Perhaps a copy of one of my ‘life poems’. Sometimes something for you to laugh at.

I’m sure anyone who has the ideals I’ve written about above, will find something to identify with in today’s poem.

FOR THOSE WHO KEEP WORKING  (through the storm)

 

How do you cope

when coping’s all you can do

when the job calls

and you love your job

‘though the cost is great

How do you work

when work’s what you want

your workmates want you back

smile when you’re there

tell you the inspiration you are

to them – who think they wouldn’t cope

if they were you

How do you live

when your greatest memories

are of living life to the hilt

knowing each day’s a wonder

‘cause you know this more than ever

under the threat of it

being taken away

You work by working

            when you can

You cope by coping

            each day at a time

You live with gusto

even on your bad days

because after all, today and today and today

is all any of us are granted

and work and life

are one

‘specially when you work

with people who are friends

and who love to hear you say

I love this job

I’ll cope

© Beryl Shaw 8th May 2003

 

Much love

Beryl

Beryl Shaw
'The Cancer Lady'

Do You Have the Courage?

Cancer & Courage -    2nd Step

I came home from having dinner with the half dozen friends in the Alfred Cancer Support Group (Alf for short), stepped out of my car and took a deep breath.

The night was clear and crisp. The only thought in my head was ‘Life is sweet’.

So many people ask ‘Why are we here?’. Breathing the air, thinking about the joy of just living, when the opposite had been such a possibility not all that long ago, I knew that was enough. If we were given a chance at this life simply to experience a few moments when we know life truly is sweet, that was a good enough reason.

DO YOU HAVE THE COURAGE?

Do you have the courage to live?

The courage to take up the cudgels of life

Day by day

Though you feel you might fall?

Do you have the courage to live?

The courage to look life in the eye

And dare it to do its darndest to you,

challenging you to do your best?

When will you be your best?

Is it when life’s easy and full with blessings?

Or will you let life go on then

Pitter patter on the road of good things?

For life is full to overflowing

No matter the path of your choosing

But we don’t always choose

To know, to know and to grow

So when will you be your best

When the going’s tough

When it’s all up hill

And you fear to fail?

When will you do your best?

Oh, when you’re pushed to your last

breath – and pain rips through

Your heart, your soul, your will

Then you’ll be your best

Then you’ll find your courage

When life kicks you in the teeth

And you grit them

Grit them ‘til they hurt

And you cry out

‘When will I find the courage?

When will I?’

That’s when

you’ll rise to your best

Know your destiny

Find the courage to live!

                   © Beryl Shaw 27th September 2003

I always wish you love of life and the courage to live it to the full.

Beryl

Beryl Shaw
'The Cancer Lady'