Читать книгу Laughing at Cancer - Ros Ben-Moshe - Страница 21
Оглавление21 June 2011
Regrowth…Reborn
Today a lady bearing a folder and friendly disposition came into my room enquiring if I would be happy to be part of a National Colorectal Cancer Audit—a database administered by the hospital with patient information to inform best-practice and research. As a public health practitioner I did not need any convincing. Feeling useful and with a renewed sense of purpose, unhesitatingly I signed up. She stayed a few moments before leaving an information sheet for me to read.
Her footsteps petered out into the room next door as I glanced at the sheet. On it was an explanation of the operation I had just had, and would you believe it, the name for this procedure derives from the Ancient Greek word neoplasia meaning ‘new growth’. Just another confirmation that perhaps—at an existen-tial or unconscious level—I chose this procedure to allow myself to grow. Indeed, what better way to enable growth than surgery? You can’t be more clear-cut than that. Out with the old!
I’m constantly amazed at the array of positive things that have occurred these past weeks. I feel so supported, and it’s not just because of earthly love. Honestly I feel like a band of genies magically appeared when the rug was rudely ripped from under my feet, some grasping its four corners whilst others shuffled around supporting any sagging areas. Then rather than succumb to the harsh disorienting fall I feared, I landed on a pile of life-sized marshmallow, not slap bang and out of control. For this I am eternally grateful.
Since my decision to have the ‘peace of mind’ operation, I feel as though I’ve been given an opportunity to metamorphose, to be reborn. Reinforcing this feeling is the fact that the operation somehow rebooted my personal calendar. The day after became ‘Day one post-op’, followed by ‘Day two post-op’ akin to a baby being born. Today I am nine days old!
As with babies, after a bowel resection food is introduced gradually and slowly with notes taken on any reaction or allergy. Some assimilate and digest well, while others leave me with chronic diarrhoea, pain and bloating. There’s no other way of putting it, this wind and inexplicable pain feels like colic!
Babies are loved unconditionally; everyone showers them in love—same with me. I have been bathed in so much love, which has been absolutely remarkable and extremely comforting.
I delight in minor achievements; taking my first step post-op, also lauded by staff, which in time has resulted in more adventur-ous ward walks that were marvelled and praised. So much love, so much encouragement.
At some level, perhaps, this shows me what it is like to be born, once again: being helpless, dependent and desirous of unconditional love and support. I’ve had people washing me, wiping me down and cleaning away my poo. I even have deodorised nappy sacks and a spare bag ‘just in case’. Friends have cooked for my family and showered me with gifts. Even people I rarely see, but whose friendship used to feature in my life, have demonstrated their love through action or words.
It’s so sad to think how many people are deprived of love and encouragement during their life course. Not just external praise but also internal praise, loving ourselves for what we really are: perfectly imperfect human beings.
I now really appreciate what it means to be in this world. I am much wiser yet recognise that, even with all the knowledge and wisdom that has been bestowed in my 43 years, I am continually being reborn, continually evolving and continually growing. I am contemplating how little I know and how much there is to learn in this gift that we refer to as life.
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Has there been a time in your life when you felt helpless and dependent on others?
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Who helped you through this time?
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Have you ever let them know how much this meant to you?
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Why not send them a letter or email, or even pick up the phone and say thanks.
(*Alfie is Rufus’s bear that he takes wherever he goes and has done since he was a puppy.)
