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| Cancergiggles is an idiot's guide to accepting, living with, laughing at and dying from cancer. The very, very last bit I can't be absolutely sure of, but then who the hell can? I could have written some beautifully crafted, grammatically correct essays but I hope you will understand, that when I say "I don't have a lot of time" I mean it far more literally than you do. I just wanted scribble a few thoughts to maybe light a spark in people - and then it became a book about Cancer, Life, Death, Illness and Politics. ISBN 0955198801 |
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copyright © 2004 Cass Brown
copyright © 2004
Cass Brown
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EXPECTANCY
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posted Sunday, 14 November 2004
EXPECTANCY
I can’t really remember when I was supposed to die but I think it was about now. Somewhere in the dim and distant past I recall that when the nasties were rediscovered, one of the Cancer Wizards was pushed into making a guess at my life expectancy and it was 6/12/18 months. About 18 months ago.
I should have very mixed feelings on this matter as I have had a lifelong obsession with being on time, but somehow I just can’t be bothered to raise the profile of this expected event to the level of an appointment with a double glazing salesman, so I tend to overlook my own tardiness. Something very strange happens when you are living “on borrowed time”. You completely forget that you borrowed it in the first place and you certainly don’t feel compelled to repay the debt; an atrocious way of behaving and one which I would not tolerate from my daughter.
From time to time the subject of my rather fragile mortality crops up but it isn’t in the way you expect. Conversations about being dead are pretty rare and it is nearly always the more pragmatic issues which bring it into focus. An example will illustrate just how easy it is to deal with big issues. We are still, a bit at a time, working on our house so that when I depart, it will be a nice place for the family to live. Pancho (father) very kindly offered to pay for us to have new carpet in our hall stairs and landing. When we were looking at various samples we came across one with a lifetime guarantee. At the time, it was completely unspoken, but we both laughed at the thought that we certainly wanted something that was going to last a damn sight longer than that and would be better off with 5 years. He’s generally no more callous or sick than I am so I guess he can deal it pretty well.
I often get emails from very caring people who seem to believe that there’s a very sad hidden me waiting to surface. A me that is disguised by a front which can’t be penetrated by reality. The truth is, that he doesn’t exist. I can’t not laugh and definitely can’t stop appreciating the ludicrous and bizarre. Happily I’m surrounded by people who know of (even they don’t understand) my sense of humour and who realize that it is who I am. No doubt the tragic comic genius is a reality with some people, however I just can’t do it. The tragic bits just strike me as too bloody funny.
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