Wednesday 18 November 2015

Politics and Schools : will fear or fascination win?

To my son,
Next year marks a major milestone in your little life – you start school!  I am so excited for you as I know how ready your amazing mind is to absorb all the wonder of our world.  You will be exploring countries, learning Mandarin, kicking like Elliott and playing the recorder like…what adult on earth plays the recorder?!  Anyways, the point is, your life and understanding is about to grow exponentially.    And it is in this breadth of information that I find myself drowning…

You have already thrown me a few curveball questions that despite my education and genuine desire to be as free as possible from bias, I find myself answering ineffectively:
“Mummy, do days stop?”
“Mummy, is Heaven real life?”
“Mummy, are men with towels on their heads baddies?”

You don’t know yet what racism is, you are yet to see the atrocious lengths some people will go to in order to secure power, money, land or fame, you are yet to experience your sister being paid less than you for doing the same job.  You “read” the paper for the footy results but I see your eyes scan other pages and a frown settle on your face – what does that little mind think when it sees images of bloodies bodies, AK-47s and smiling assassins?

You ask a question and (generally!) accept my answer.  And so it is upon me to try to articulate to a 5 year-old the complexities of our current political landscape…. 

I don’t want you to grow up with hate in your bones or prejudices in your mind.   But I also don’t want you to be unnecessarily hurt from your own naivety.   Most people are good – the vast majority of people are good but, quite simply, some are not.  There will be some people who want to hurt you, some people who want to rule you, some people who want to use you and some people who derive their own worth by putting you down.  You cannot tell who these people will be by their religion, their bank balance or their beauty.  That is as true on a school playground as it is in world politics.   Adults play the same games as children do but are unfortunately armed.

I cannot shield you from all of this (P.S. Dad – that’s why Mum gets teary when we talk about school!), for to do so would mean a hermit life ….   So instead, be aware that hatred and cruelty are out there but they live in minute, squalid pockets.  Trust your instincts when it comes to removing yourself from a dangerous situation.   Judgments are your body’s defense mechanism.  But judge people on how they treat you not on the colour of their skin, nor their nationality, nor their gender. 

Start your thoughts with kindness, knowing most people will reciprocate.  Share your ideas generously and listen to the ideas of others, knowing that you are seeking the best outcome not your outcome.   

Most of all, step in to the world knowing that I love you as much as the whole wide world plus infinity!

Mum xox

Saturday 7 November 2015

Inside my nightmare - surgery versus flying

I survived another surgery yesterday and statistics show this is quite the norm.

The rather cold operating theater was abuzz with my surgeon, the anesthetist, assisting doctors and nurses.  The melody of their conversation was calming but then I looked at that awful trolley loaded with various size "knives" and I felt a little apprehensive...

Oh well I told myself - it's still better than Wednesday!  What happened on Wednesday I hear you say?  I had to fly from Melbourne to Sydney return.  This flight is just over an hour - a hop, skip and a jump.  It is one of the busiest (9th busiest route in the world which is quite extraordinary given our little population!) and safest flight paths in the world.  The 'normal' passenger gets on the plane, has a quick nap, a light snack and is back on the ground again - easy!

Not for me....I've never liked flying (although I've always liked travelling?!) but since having Cancer I am living proof that fears can be quite irrational (and all consuming).  The minute that plane takes off every muscle in my body tenses, I start to sweat and talk frantically to the poor souls seated around me.  I try desperately to focus on that thud when the wheels hit the ground safely again.

Some people say it's about control (or lack thereof) but I sure as hell don't want to be flying the thing! I love other people driving and I don't batter an eyelid when I step on a train.  So I think "control" is an oversimplification.  I think, for me, it's the finality - no amount of airbags can save an airbus.  I didn't fight cancer to go down in a plane.

I have no idea how I'm going to get to Hawaii for my birthday next year - a whole lot of Xanax and a beautiful family who I don't want to let down...

Can someone please invent a commercial rocket submarine by next December - please xox

Monday 2 November 2015

He didn't even get 18 weeks to live...

I've had a bit of fun with my posts of late but some awful news on the weekend abruptly reminded me of why I started this blog.  In early September I wrote about my Dad's bestie from High School - Mr TJ (18 months to live - what would you do?) who was diagnosed with Grade 4 skin cancer and given 18 months to live. He didn't even get 18 weeks....

I'm in shock that this big, burly Aussie bloke has been taken already.  His height and stature gave me the false impression that he was indestructible.  

He was my Santa Clause personified - he had a huge, jolly laugh, he was honest and brave.  He was kind and just a little bit cheeky.  He had an affinity with the land and the sea - enjoying solo camping trips and dedicating his life to patrolling and protecting our ocean.  

I didn't have the opportunity to share enough of my life with him but those painfully real and open conversations I shared with him in September will stay with me forever.  I know that sounds cliche but I also know that there are very few conversations deeper than your own mortality.  TJ shared his experience openly and with a courageous humour that only an Aussie larrikin can muster.   

I can only imagine how sad and angry his family must be.  I extended every drop of compassion to them and, whilst I want to somehow make it better I'm not going to write some bullsh!t about being grateful for the time they had.  People experience such an intense discomfort when someone shows grief so we try to 'wash it away' by saying things like "be grateful for the time you had", "isn't it great he lived a full life".  And whilst that's all technically true, it's still deeply painful and unfair that he's gone.  

The only small consolation I have is that I wrote my blog for him in time for him to read it and he sent me the most heart warming texts in the subsequent days.  Wrap those you love in the biggest hug and tell them daily why they're special... xoxo