Everybody dies.
It’s a fact that sits in the back of my mind most days. If things are going badly, I remind myself; well, I’m going to die one day. Suicide and death are concepts I ruminate on like any other; morbidity is no reason for avoidance. But, this isn't just about me. Death has been catapulted to the forefront of my families psyche within the space of nary a month. Upon arrival home from her overseas trip, my sister fell ill and needed hospitalisation to replace vital fluids. No, she was not close to death, but no hospital trip is pleasant. That was just the beginning. Barely two weeks later, my parents sat my sister and I down to have a “chat.” Yes, a “chat-” with all the insinuation those apostrophe marks suggest. It’s going to be bad news - how bad you don’t know till it’s told. My sister reacted first, emotionally; in a spontaneous way most men or I probably wouldn’t allow themselves to do even in the safety and privacy of their homes. She cried. In fact she started sobbing. I was just numb. Breast Cancer. The big C. The one you hear about all the time - the disease half of all Australian’s get at some point in their lives. The diagnosis that rocks the thought boat from just conceptualizing death to realising you might actually have to face it, like a rogue wave building on an otherwise calm horizon. My first thoughts and feelings after the initial run-through of the situation were positive. “Ah,” I thought demurely and with feigned nonchalance; “Breast cancer in this country is so well researched, it’s basically like catching a common cold. No worries!” Alas the worries did come. For a few days, the prognosis was uncertain. Over three painstaking days she visited oncology, and her fate was revealed; she was in the early stages of the disease. She had not been handed a death sentence.
To be contd.
It’s a fact that sits in the back of my mind most days. If things are going badly, I remind myself; well, I’m going to die one day. Suicide and death are concepts I ruminate on like any other; morbidity is no reason for avoidance. But, this isn't just about me. Death has been catapulted to the forefront of my families psyche within the space of nary a month. Upon arrival home from her overseas trip, my sister fell ill and needed hospitalisation to replace vital fluids. No, she was not close to death, but no hospital trip is pleasant. That was just the beginning. Barely two weeks later, my parents sat my sister and I down to have a “chat.” Yes, a “chat-” with all the insinuation those apostrophe marks suggest. It’s going to be bad news - how bad you don’t know till it’s told. My sister reacted first, emotionally; in a spontaneous way most men or I probably wouldn’t allow themselves to do even in the safety and privacy of their homes. She cried. In fact she started sobbing. I was just numb. Breast Cancer. The big C. The one you hear about all the time - the disease half of all Australian’s get at some point in their lives. The diagnosis that rocks the thought boat from just conceptualizing death to realising you might actually have to face it, like a rogue wave building on an otherwise calm horizon. My first thoughts and feelings after the initial run-through of the situation were positive. “Ah,” I thought demurely and with feigned nonchalance; “Breast cancer in this country is so well researched, it’s basically like catching a common cold. No worries!” Alas the worries did come. For a few days, the prognosis was uncertain. Over three painstaking days she visited oncology, and her fate was revealed; she was in the early stages of the disease. She had not been handed a death sentence.
To be contd.