Here we are once again, back in "that" place I just don't want to be. Mum asked me a very telling question today, "So, are you still wanting your funeral down in Sydney?", speaks volumes doesn't it. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that question either, it's completely reasonable in our current situation and she knows that I've always wanted my funeral to be "my" way, not some funeral director in a wide brimmed hat and a chignon bun from White Lady funerals way. Today though, practicality wasn't high on my priority list, number one was to walk around dazed and confused, wondering why we're back in this place again, the place of death.
I mean wasn't a cure supposed to have been found by now? I've stretched it out to 3 years, I've given you frigging cancer scientists enough time and frigging donations, so why are we still here? I've been frozen in this unknown state for what feels like forever, haven't some bloody mice in China had their cancer cured from some sort of trial somewhere in the bowels of Beijing? You can have a face transplant now and I read somewhere that some Russian guy has just volunteered to be the first human to trial a whole head transplant and still we can't manage to kill little lumps that keep popping up inside my body, how does this make sense?
In recent days I've had an episode where I was curled up in pain, with my undies around my ankles, on the toilet floor, banging the wall for my Mum or Dad to get me an enema to help with a blockage from my kilogram of pelvic tumours pressing on my rectum and causing a slight blockage, I knew it was coming, I knew it was getting worse again, but it still doesn't prepare you.
It doesn't matter how long you have "terminal" attached to you, it never becomes easier, you never just get used to it. I know so many of you write how strong I am, an inspiration, but really I'm not, I'm as shit scared as I was that Thursday September the 5th 2013 in that little ultrasound room when the technician gave me the "poor you" your cancers back puppy dog eyes.
I said to Mum today and I almost felt wrong saying it, but it's the truth, so here goes, I actually wish someone was dying with me, I know how horrible that sounds, but for fuck sake women can't manage to go to the toilet by themselves on a night out, so why would it be so wrong of me to not want to go out (die) alone? I know it's horrible to wish death on someone else, but it's not like I'm saying to Mum take an overdose of my morphine and come along for the ride. I'm simply saying it would be a comforting thought to know you weren't going to be facing this alone. I know everyone who has strong faith says that the other side is better than this side, but what if it's nothing? What if I die and that's it, the thought of not going on somewhere else after this I think is what scares me the most and yes I know I believe in God and I say I have strong faith, but I'm sorry; until someone goes over to the other side with a go pro attached to their head and comes back with concrete proof of this so-called "other side" or "heaven" I simply can't commit to heaven's existence. The thought of not being reconnected with your loved ones once you die scares the shit out of me. I so desperately want to be so blind in my faith that I believe that we will be reunited in years to come, because it would give me the comfort I so desperately crave, but my fears just override all of it.
I sometimes wonder would it be easier if I was in my 80's and my loved ones had already passed away? Maybe then the thought of a Great Gatsby themed welcoming party upon my arrival at my new home in the sky would be more likely? Maybe I'd be looking forward to it, because the ones I love have already gone.
All of these thoughts and considerations swimming around my head, all day, all night.
I'm roaming around at 2am in between crying and begging and praying for this to be one big joke, for it to all go away. Scared to go to sleep in case I'm not going to wake up and the words kilo of tumours keep whirling around in my head like an annoying fucking mosquito in your bedroom at night.....please, I'm begging you, just leave me alone. You've had your fun, now pack your bags and move on! Looking down at my bloated tumour filled belly and asking why? Why did this happen? Imagining tomorrow without me in it, how can everyone else still be here at some point and I won't? It doesn't make sense, it's just one big mind fuck on Viagra. It doesn't matter how long you fight this bastard of a disease, you still go to bed thinking you'll wake up tomorrow and everything will have miraculously disappeared, hope is so pivotal, it keeps you going, but I don't seem to face my reality.
Lisa! You're dying! Accept it and move on already! I just can't!
I wish I could promise you fabulous rockstars that tomorrow will be a better day, that I will be more positive, but I'm not in the habit of making promises I can't keep. I can only hope that tomorrow will come and if it does that I am more positive about my situation. Thank-you all for your love, support, positive vibes and prayers. I hope that you can appreciate that I don't know how I will behave in coming days, I may go AWOL for a while or it could be all things as normal, I just don't know.
Either way, stay fabulous rockstars ❤️🤘🏼
My name is Lisa Magill and I have been navigating the minefield that is cancer since just months after turning 30, people have been saying to me for years that I should put my thoughts into writing and as time has progressed I thought I had left it too late, well here we are nearly 4 years in and for some unknown reason I've decided to start to write today.