Sunday, 16 September 2018

What do we say to the god of death?

Not today. In case you're wondering, that's what we say - not today, according to George R.R. Martin and me lately. 

Over the summer I had the opportunity to meet up with a dear friend. Having experienced significant illness and challenges herself she asked me an interesting question. "Do you relate to the term "survivor" as it connects to cancer? Does that feel a bit militant to you?" At first, I didn't really know how to answer - mostly because I didn't yet see myself as a survivor. 

So, what am I waiting for? Someone's permission to be a survivor? Isn't the connotation of the word survivor connected to a struggle? Overcoming in a fight? 

It's taken a bit of time, a bit of processing, but I have an answer now. I'm a survivor, and I've embraced the fight. This cancer crept into my life, quietly, lethally and it damn well tried to kill me. So, yes, I fought back and continue to do so, against anxiety and fear, against seeing the future as dark and fearful. I look it straight in the eye and scream into the void. Not today! 

When it took me a day's worth of energy just to have a shower on my own, I fought by having one. 

When I was first diagnosed I walked around the hospital, but walking was nearly impossible.

I laughed, I visited with friends, I spent time with my kids, I went out with my husband. I fought for the life that was in danger of being stolen. 

I don't know what's going to happen, but make no mistake. I'm going to fight for life, for love, and for all that I hold dear - no matter what my results say. It's ok to fight, it's ok to be militant, and it's important to accept being a survivor. 

So, what do we say to the god of death? Not today. Not today. Not today. 

all the sins we see

He raped me. My friend, sweet and gentle, said it straight out like she was talking about the movie we'd seen not too long ago toget...