October 1st 2013

BE HERE NOW!

To All The Amazing People I have known or do know that are cancer survivors or succumbers:

– My brother Jeff who humbles and amazes me with how he lives each day in the face of a slow-growing terminal brain tumour in his 30s. I love that you have taken up photography to capture all the precious little ineffable moments – the sunrises over the ocean, your beautiful daughters at play.. I am so grateful that you and your wife Fiona have the strength and commitment to living so completely – with such courage, enthusiasm, and surrender. I am so grateful that your faith that all this has greater meaning brings you both peace. I love you all! Jeff, I have never been so glad for your strong will and competitive spirit!

– Fiona, my sister-in-law, you amaze me with the grounded determination and grace with which you have faced losing your best friend Emily to ovarian cancer 2 days ago, whilst living with your husband’s cancer, and the memory of losing your Father to brain cancer as well. Most mere mortals would be shaking their fists at the sky and screaming “why me?”. No doubt you have had these moments, but they have never overwhelmed you for long.. You bounce back with love, forgiveness, and a determined twinkle. I am so grateful that my brother has chosen you to be by his side and brought me a new sister who has so much to teach me about triumphing over unspeakable suffering. Thank you.

– My cousin Tracey, who is battling stage IV breast cancer. Tracey, almost daily you remind me not to sweat the small stuff with your Facebook updates and your “be here now” slogan tattooed to your arm. You have been facing your mortality for some time now but you have never seemed more vibrant or alive. I see all the energy you put into creating memories with your daughters, your husband, your friends. You do cherish every breath, and you remind all of us around you to do the same. What a wonderful gift you have given us!

– My Aunty Valma. You passed when I was young and my cousins in their teens. You were such a loving, caring, and kind woman. I remember you caring for us when my siblings were born. You would be so proud of the wonderful people your children have become, and the beautiful grandchildren they have brought you.

-To the 2 beautiful older ladies that I first gave bad news to as a newly graduated doctor, at the age of 24. Mrs N, you were my first, and I will never, ever forget you. I still tell your story to medical students to remind them the importance of being with patients, even if there is nothing else you can do for them. When in doubt – BE HUMAN! I was so nervous about telling you and your husband that you were dying from that large cancerous mass in your belly. I made you both a cuppa tea in the hope you would guess what I had to tell you – and you did… “I have cancer, don’t I?”

I wasn’t prepared for your reaction though – you looked shocked for a second, then your face lit up like a Christmas tree.. “I know I’m probably in shock, but I think I’ve known deep down for some time that I am dying… Thank you for confirming my suspicions. I’m not going to spend a precious moment with ‘woe is me’ – I have too much to do! My daughter is pregnant with my first granddaughter and there is so much I need to tell her about life!! I need to start writing letters and doing all the things I’ve always wanted to do but put off.. When can I get out of this hospital?”

I went to visit you later in the day, wondering if you may have crashed later, or if perhaps your buoyant response to dying was evidence of some sort of mental health problem. I sat at your bedside for a precious hour as you told me with unrestrained joyousness about the wonderful life you had led and your favourite memories. You told me a story about walking into your lounge room when your girls were young to find they had thrown a bag of flour into the ceiling fan and covered everything white. You mentioned how for a second you were furious about the mess, but then you decided to just enjoy the moment and started throwing the flour around – you and your daughters white from head to toe and laughing hysterically.. The messiest moments make the warmest memories!

I also remember the day Ms G passed. She and I had an ambivalent relationship. She was indigenous and suffering end-stage liver failure from liver cancer and cirrhosis. Ms G, you had terrible veins, and it was my job to put in cannulas and take bloods each day. It was my job to torture you in your final moments, and we both hated it. I would do my best to lighten the mood with mildly inappropriate jokes which I could tell you appreciated, in spite of your gruffness.

I knew you had died because that morning the hospital was teeming with indigenous folk. I felt sad that I hadn’t been able to get you back to your birth place as I promised your family that I would, but I felt pleased for you that your suffering had ended and you were at peace. I was thrilled when the wardsman told me how your relatives had visited you in the hospital morgue and how your tiny nieces and nephews had nicked a wad of gloves and used them to have an impromptu water fight there! The image of that makes my heart sing and still makes me smile :)!

Today marks the beginning of breast cancer awareness month. We have all been touched by cancer in some way. I hope this bottle helps the finders reconnect with those they have lost to this disease, and the amazing moments of inspirational humanity that have been witnessed in times of great suffering and fear. For those that have laughed in the face of death and shown us what humans are capable of – I love you all!!

Thank you for teaching me that the only way to truly live is to face death daily and embrace and surrender…

xxxOOOxxx

P.S. To those that find this bottle – please go to http://www.lovefloats4eva.net and tell me when and where you found it (you’re already here!).

P.P.S. Then add a love letter to someone you know that has battled cancer and has touched and inspired you to live more fully.

P.P.P.S. Seal up the bottle with the love letters and release it back to the ocean to touch somebody else. Upload your letter to the website and send a link to anyone else that might appreciate the sentiments.

P.P.P.P.S. If you are so inclined, you can donate to the Cancer Council at www.cancer.org.au