A bit like Rent, I guess.

I have the next chronologically sensical part of the story in my Tumblr drafts. I sat down to write it and I have yet to post it. Honestly, as I have said before, words really do fail me a great deal. Anyone who knows me will know how a conversation with me is rarely linear. I’m all over the place, tending to assume that everyone can follow the, often bizarre, tangents I choose to direct us on. 

So for the next topic. Surgery to remove Edna. I didn’t know how to do it justice.

Was I scared? Yes. Well sometimes. Sort of. I spent 6 hours in my hospital room beforehand taking ‘selfies’ on Photo Booth and planning the movies I was going to watch when I woke up. (Hold judgement, I was 15…everyone sucks at that age). This is perhaps why, in a karmic fashion, one particular shot got into the local paper:

 

Did it hurt? I was 'out’ for all of it. My last words to anyone, my parents, before going under were “Oh Jesus Christ! Thats a big needle…..”. I said 'I love you’ as well. Then I woke up to a healthy dose of morphine. It’s brilliant. You should try it. (DON’T). That wore off. It hurt, to borrow a phrase from a new friend, a 'shit tonne’. Then I pressed a button. Got some more. All giggles again.

I’ve got some really gross photos to show you of Edna, my tumour, once I find them. She was pale and veiny and disgusting. Much like me. She was also very fat. So naturally I have a giant scar, which at the time was every so slightly tender…

This is not what I want to share however.

Along with a hyperactive imagination and scatty conversation pattern I am also very optimistic and idealistic. I try to look for the best in people and in situations, even if said qualities are not immediately visible. Some people do appalling things, purely out of self-interest. I study Politics. Nuff said. On the whole, however, I believe people, given the opportunity, have a great capacity to love and support each other. That is how I like to measure my life (get the Rent reference now? I’m half-American please give me some leeway for sappy nonsense). 

I’m not capable of adequately describing what I felt when I woke up however many long hours later. I have some photos that might explain.

This is why I love my friends…

They all came in when I woke up, wearing these badges.

 

 

I have a box full of every card I or my family ever got during cancer. Most of them I received during chemotherapy or surgery. I tried to spread them all out on my bed. I’ve not done a 'good’ job of it, in the strictest sense. This is why I have a good view of human nature. Yes. This is based almost entirely on my own, unique, personal experience. However, it remains unshaken. It may be unrealistic, naive, and idealistic to some but I have full faith in it.

 

 

My favourite card is homemade from my best friends, who I’ve known since I was 8:

 

 

My sister Juliet, made a whole album for when I got home.

 

 

This is what I take from my surgery. That it was rough and painful and scary but the most important thing was, and remains, that an incredible amount of people were behind me and my family. 

My Grannie, Barbara or 'Babs’, is an amazing woman who I draw a great deal of strength from. She has had ovarian cancer, breast cancer, lost a husband suddenly, and had 2 strokes that have left her with limited use of the left side of her body. She has always gone to church and been a lively part of the church community. When I asked her about faith and what 'believing in God’ meant to her, in light of all she had been through, she told me this:

“God is not an unknowable being in the clouds. God is love. God is the relationships you build from the love you give, in return that love is given back, one way or another. God is not something or someone who decides what happens to you. God is the love from the people around you, who are there for you when things do happen.”

Something like that.