On cancer and on surviving

27 06 2010

When I found out I had cancer, I was told about what I needed to do in order to stay alive… I was frightened by the idea of the operation, possibly more than the disease… and the rest of the treatment. But I had seen how losing Dad had affected Mum, so I chose to fight.

I survived and the prize was of not letting Mum see her child die, that’s the big one, that’s why I fought.

But I had no idea that she would pass away too, not long after I got better… although I had noticed, she had lost her appetite, she was getting thinner, and losing the energy that she once had. Mum was stubborn and wouldn’t see the doctor.

I think she was happy to go, all her life she’d carried the burden of the ones she loved passing away, Her boyfriend whom she’d wed after the war, didn’t return. I look at a picture of them, and they’re so happy, and my heart aches for them.

There’s a part of me that aches over the fact that if it had not been for a stupid war, then my mother would have been happier, I would sacrifice my existence for that if I could.

I remember phonecalls at St leonards from relatives telling Mum that another of her five brothers had passed away, and watching her in tears, but being far too young to understand the depth of emotion involved and therefore unable to bring her any real comfort at the time.

I understand the torment of it now, Each day when I wake up, I am without them, and it tears at me. Each night I dream about them and wake to find it was just a dream.

I reluctantly wake up and bury myself in the internet, hoping for something wonderous to happen, which of course it doesn’t… but it keeps me distracted for a few hours from the idea that while I am alive, the ones I love, are not.

When Mum and Dad were here, they’d walk together, They’d hold hands like two young lovers… My Dad, for all his faults, loved my Mother more and more each year. People would remark on watching them together, holding hands.
It was partly due to Mum being so poorly co-ordinated, You could take your eyes off Mum for a moment and find her with a skinned knee on the ground… She tumbled down an escalator once, dad had no idea till he glanced down and saw her there.

I too would walk with her, holding her hands, which were often fairly cold, guarding her, protecting her, making sure she didn’t fall.

Always proud of her, she loved me and did everything she could for me, and I loved her.

I’m writing this with tears streaming down my face, various memories of trips to the countryside, with Benny, our Malamute beside me, or Dads final hours when he told me that he was proud of me, seconds after I told him he wasn’t when he asked me “Am I going to die?”.

The days now stream into one, without any meaning, I was granted a ticket out of here which I should have taken, I regret that. I have over stayed my time, although I have gained some friendship which I don’t regret at all, and the love and loyalty of Katie.

I am a guard dog with nothing to guard, I have gone past my use-by date, and remain alive only because I am too scared to die. there is only and endless stream of days to look forward to, I am weighted down by pains that I can barely carry and feel so utterly tormented by life. There is nobody here… I hope that it’s just a terrible nightmare which at some point will end.

Have I been in a car accident, am I in a coma, will I wake up in 1975 and everything will be ok, will I hold her hand again, will my heart stop bleeding, will this agony I feel inside ever end?

The only thing I’d regret, is missing Katie, if I had passed on, as she needed me and so did Vicky, but otherwise I don’t know what to do about this redundant life.

I hope that someday soon, a doctor will discover that I have something that will take my life if left to do so, I will not be seeking treatment this time around.

Wolfie!

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2 responses

28 06 2010
rorybaust

Hi Wolfie

I read your latest post today, I always enjoy reading what you have to say and I subscribe to your blogs email updates, so I know exactly when a fresh new piece of prose has arrived on your blog. I was a little dismayed, concerned and mildly worried after reading your last post. I only know you from a far, but I enjoy our social media interactions and I consider you a friend.

I understand your feeling of remorse and loss you feel for your parents as I had my father succumb to cancer just over 17 years ago and I also lost a brother to suicide a little over 7 years ago now. The memories will never fade and the sorrow and loss will never diminish. I have also lost friends and co workers to death and I know the hole that a death leaves behind.

I congratulate you on your fight and victory over cancer; I hope that your current feelings are only a temporary lapse and the Wolfie jumps back into the picture. I see the MTUB is having a get to gathering on Friday the 9th, 6pm! I was thinking of attending, it would be good if you could as well, it would be nice to catch up.

1 07 2010
Talarus Luan

Wolfie,

I’d normally jump in here and post some little wise ditty or two in an attempt to point out something you may not have considered, but I don’t wish to insult your intelligence like that. More than likely, you have heard it all before a million times. So, if I lapse into such a state, feel free to smack me for it. 🙂

Life is always a challenge. Much of the time spent existing is in one form of suffering or another; either self-inflicted, inflicted by others, or inflicted upon us by the world at large. It’s not the goal or purpose of life that is important, but the journey; the experience is what we’re really here for. Even pain and loss is part and parcel to the experience; all of it in totality makes us who we are. All too soon, it will be over for each and every one of us anyway, so we might as well make the best of what we have of it while it lasts.

Your folks sound like the were very wonderful people, and I think you reflect their beauty and warmth well, a true tribute to their memory. While I can never know them personally and directly as you have and do, you carry and share their legacy in more ways than you may ever know. More importantly, you are a unique and special person in yourself; there won’t be another Wolfie. I, among many, consider it an honor and a pleasure to know you, and enjoy the experience you bring to this world by virtue of your existence here.

In closing, I know the darkness you feel; I have felt it at times, too. I know that, at times, it seems like the most desirable thing is to leave this world. As I said above, it will come eventually anyway, as it is inevitable; I do believe in the notion of choosing that time myself, rather than have it ambush me when I am weak and suffering long past the twilight time, when I have nothing left for this place. However, that will be long into the future, I hope. I hope it will be long in your future as well; perhaps someday we’ll get a chance to experience one another more directly (ie, in person).

Even in your darkest of times remember this: it may seem like you can give us a thousand reasons to go, and we won’t be able to give you a single reason to stay; stay anyway. 🙂

Fair winds and bright skies, friend Wolf. 🙂

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