Chemo Two. May 2008. Life Continues.
Here below are more drawings of patients and staff. The first two, Nicola and Lucie, are in the chemo ward to observe and create links of support for chemo patients and their ordinary life. I notice, as I go to Ward Three, week by week, that patients come and go. My chemo is ‘continuous’ until the side effects become too toxic. Fiona, the ward Sister, said there were only three others on this sort of treatment.
Actively Observing
Contemplating
Supporting Health
Always Busy
Holding my Breath
Too Young for Bowel Cancer?
Some of my Story, too
Sometimes Unseen, but always there
Warming the veins
There Together
What is / was your mother like?
Hi everyone,
I’d like to begin a discussion about ‘Mothers’ . To stimulate discussion I am downloading a cartoon depicting different types of Mothering. Maybe your childhood was ‘good enough’ rather than ‘Hell’. I guess, even though much of life in side the home was Hell (uncomfortable, scary, punishing …) , I still wouldn’t choose another life, because I am Me – I have survived a dysfunctional upbringing. The surviving and bringing good out of darkness has made me strong – strong enough to keep facing the truth about myself and others. My mum was: Worry Mum, Mad Mum, Crazy Mum, Guilt Mum … goodness, the list goes on. Sigh. I think, in a later post, I may talk about ‘Gone Mum’ : being rejected by mother is perhaps the most painful?
I look forward to your responses.
Kind regards
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I will continue to add more posts in Technical Matters as the need arises, based on questions you ask me. If you need further help please email me and I’ll reply as soon as I can.
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
From ‘The Invitation’ by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
ISBN 0-7225-4045-0
