I'm not dead

This small and quite splendid lime colored frog was found in the bathroom in Weipa. Weipa is a small mining town in northern Queensland where I was teaching indigenous young people for a fortnight of hip hop and creative art workshops with three other artists in 2006.

The title of this blog is in reference to the enormous undertaking it has been and therefore will continue to be in regards to informing and distilling myths in regards to my present state of health. Disclosing the information in regards to my cancer and supporting people through this shock is nearly a full time job (thank you Centrelink for supporting my new found line of work as a grief and loss counsellor for the Brunswick punks, hippies and regular bohemians). The news of the recent diagnosis is met with such a variety of responses from disbelief, shock, instant emotional overload or an appearance of apathetic indifference. All of which are a natural response to an unforeseen event in the life of a close friend, lover or family member with cancer. But negotiating these responses is highly exhausting to say the least and has led me to the conclusion that fighting the cancer is such a small amount of the journey. Disclosing, discussing and advocating on behalf of the cancer takes up a hell of a lot more mental and emotional space.

Then there is the self analysis that goes on in respect to the kind of cancer patient that I want to be. Aspirationally speaking as well as in a day to day existence, am I the true fighter, the suffering silent victim, the vessel of the disease, the complete optimist, the fatalist or something in between. Do I all of a sudden have an epiphany and start to care for the sick, maimed and injured within our community with a ferocity of one who has truly known what it is to suffer. Do I act non chalant and blazing go out to debaucherous night dens flicking my nearly acquired faux blonde wig and displaying a complete indifference to my internal battle (well battle waged within the confines of my lymphatic system). Do I Become an advocate for cancer and decide to hold the largest morning tea possible with a grand stand and a marching band, littered with survivors stories telecast over the big screens.

Or do I allow some of the enormity to slowly eat at my core and seep into my creative and abused veins. Begin to write dark and tortured poetry and spend hours in the bath tube with the cure blaring and feeling oh so fucken justified.

Do I resign myself to a six month movie marathon, chomping on as much popular culture as I can digest without allowing my up chuck reflex to speak.

oh the cancer patient persona, such a tricky thing to construct.

One thing is for sure, if you haven't discovered it for yourself the torrents of personal affirmations and gossip from friends build your cancer persona for you.

then you can just ride the wave.....

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