Читать книгу Laughing at Cancer - Ros Ben-Moshe - Страница 9

25 May 2011

This is where it all begins … well it has to begin somewhere!

Now this isn’t too hard, is it? I mean it’s only taken ten thousand hints from the universe, a bowel cancer diagnosis and a lifetime of thoughts bursting the lining of my exploding head to finally begin to write, journal, download, do whatever it takes and in whatever manner it spills out.

The ink seals my words as testimony to a covenant I make with myself. From now on, all chatter cramming every nook and every cranny of my brain will have a place to go: my journal; a dedicated and devoted outlet where I can pour forth the depths of my unvocalised soul. It will soothe my mind and provide a resting place for my profound (and not so profound) thoughts, releasing any undesired and negative emotions that hibernate within. It will flow its own course. I am merely its conduit.

My life’s journey has taken a new direction. A new current is pulling me, more forceful than ever before. There’s no sitting back today and ignoring it. Tough decisions need to be made. Taking a deep breath in, I am considering what needs to be done. Countless people, too many, have been in similar situations before, far graver than mine. My brain is filled with opinions, facts and fear. I am unable to switch off. I am dreaming of the moment it heaves to a silent pause and rests.

I fear if it doesn’t, my decision-making process will be encumbered, adding even more pressure to my pulsating head. I try tuning out the brain and tuning into my heart, gut and intuitive capacities, but they’re just not communicating today. They are ensconced in their own battles. In this deafening noise I can’t find any inner silence or space to make sense of this.

Is this really happening to me? After all I am a health promotion consultant and laughter wellness facilitator. Surely that should somehow absolve me of poor health? I live and breathe wellness, don’t I? I am considering the mind-body connection and wondering whether something, somewhere along the way has caused a conjunction between seamed parts. I have tried to think positively. I really have done my best. So why then have I had so much sickness? Chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS), parasites, shingles, a Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) and now this malignant polyp: a mere 21mm in diameter, with a few pesky cancerous cells outside of its margin. It’s hard to believe something so small can amount to something as life-changing as this. ‘This can’t be happening to me,’ screams over and over in my head making me woozy. I will an out-of-body experience to free me from my own—not that I’ve ever had one!

Another solitary breath in and out, slow and deep. Time to close my eyes and contemplate my next step both in the written and physical worlds. Nothing makes sense. I wish I could stop thinking so much. The more I write, the more real it feels, and that is the last thing I want. I am too distraught to contemplate sleep. I pray that after I give in to sleep, I’ll wake up and today’s nightmare will have been just that.