Truthfulness

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#DerwentRiver #Hobart #Tasmania #whale #whalebreeches 26/7/14

#DerwentRiver #Hobart #Tasmania #whale #whalebreeches 26/7/14

missbusker:

i’m waiting x your cuddle application!

All applications considered…

missbusker:

i’m waiting x your cuddle application!

All applications considered…

(Source: ohsoprettay)

Jul 1

Searching for Peace

The past 24 hours have been like a roller coaster of emotions. Bittersweet. I’ve felt extreme sadness, and anger, and frustration, and helplessness. I’ve celebrated and felt joyous, and full of happiness and hope and gratitude. I’ve been dumbfounded, shocked, scared, and bewildered. And it’s all due to one thing - fucking cancer.

Cancer.

It takes away health, it takes lives, it breaks up families, it takes away hope. It leaves people broken and shattered as they attempt to pick themselves up and get on with living. It leaves you with the constant fear of a recurrence, of the other cancers you are at risk of due to the very treatment that was meant to save your life. But we all know this.

What is rarely focused on is what cancer can give you. It gives you an appreciation for the most important things in life. It gives you clarity, and the ability to weed out the stuff, or people, that aren’t necessary in your life. The nay sayers. The selfish. It gives you the freedom to no longer be bound by what others think, the courage to speak your mind. It brings you friendships, new and old, from people and places you’d least expect. It gives you the support of the wider cancer community. That moment you meet someone and knowingly nod or hold eye contact is one of the most powerful moments. You know that someone else gets it. The most important thing cancer gives you, however, is strength; strength of mind and spirit. These past 3 weeks I’ve witnessed the most powerful display of strength from a friend who was preparing her family for her passing. It was inspiring and a privilege to witness.

Today I lost that friend to breast cancer. A brave and beautiful lady who loved her family with all her heart. She passed away peacefully, surrounded by the love of her children, her husband and her mum. It wasn’t unexpected. I saw her late last week. I knew her fight was going to be over sooner rather than later. I’m at peace with her death. I’m not at peace with the cancer that stole a mum from her children. I don’t think I’ll ever be.

The second piece of news I had was that my Aunt has had a recurrence of her ovarian cancer. She’s stage 4, which is terminal. She was doing so well. She will fight on, because she loves her family and she doesn’t want to let cancer win. I know she will go out fighting, but she is also at peace with the fact she knows she won’t survive this long term. I’m not at peace with that. Maybe I’ll get there…?

And finally, the good news. I received confirmation I have achieved NEAD (No Evidence of active disease). Not quite the NED (No evidence of disease) I wanted, but it will do. I should be overjoyed. I should be hopeful that I’ll have a long life, free from cancer. I should be at peace with the fact I’ve beaten the beast. But I’m not. I’m trying. I will get there.

It’s been a rough 24 hours. I need time to make my peace.

My idea of heaven….

My idea of heaven….

(Source: aaanxious)

nevver:

Nietzsche Family Circus

nevver:

Nietzsche Family Circus

Feeling helpless

Let me preface the following statement by saying I am ok. This is purely a statement expressing my feelings ATM.

CANCER SUCKS BIG FUCKING HAIRY ONES.

I’m fine. Truly. Just hurting. My heart is hurting. After a cancer diagnosis this weird thing happens. It’s incredibly difficult to explain. You form bonds that I cannot begin to describe; an instant recognition, an understanding….. You become part of a community. You share the triumphs, the battles, the love, the laughter, the good times, the bad. And then, when a member of your community, a friend, moves closer to the end of their journey, then I want to scream to whomever is listening, that CANCER SUCKS. ‘Cos it truly does.

Life is fragile, and a gift, people. Appreciate it.

I love my new breasts, but not for the reason you may think.

I love my boobs. Actually they are now affectionately known as the Foobs - fake boobs - and are still under reconstruction. My entire life I hated my real boobs. They were too big, the bounced too much, they gave me a back ache, they decided what clothes I could and couldn’t wear, the attracted the wrong kind of appreciative looks and catcalls. So, in Dec 1999, I decided to bring in the millennium with a new set of much smaller boobies! Yes, I had a breast reduction. No it didn’t solve all my problems. Yes it brought a new set of issues to the table. But, life was easier.

Fast forward to April 2013. A lump was found. Cancer. Lumpectomy. Chemo. Genetic testing. BRCA 2 positive. Bilateral mastectomy. Partial reconstruction. Hysterectomy. A whirlwind of pain, loss, emotions, hateful thoughts about my breasts, any breasts, cancer. Until last Friday. My younger sister (who also tested positive for BRCA 2) called me. She called to thank me for getting breast cancer. Yes. Seriously. You see, she had a preventative hysterectomy on the previous Wednesday. Pathology results showed early stage uterine cancer. Her surgeon told her he’d never seen a case this early before. He also told her she would not have become symptomatic for many months, by which time she’d have required a lot of treatment other than just surgery. Gynae cancers are hard to screen for, and even harder to detect.

But it doesn’t end there. I saw my surgeon for my 6 week post surgery check up. The extra fine biopsy results showed abnormalities in the cell structure of my left ovary. The precursor to ovarian cancer. I would never have known I had ovarian cancer until it had progressed a lot. Only 15% of people survive post 5 years. I cried. Bucket loads. But they were happy tears.

My breast cancer saved my sister’s life.

It also saved my life.

We cried. We celebrated. I thanked my foobs. I told the uneven, rock hard, yet to have soft implants inserted, BOSOM I loved it. Them.

Then my oldest sister called. She too tested positive to BRCA 2 mutation. She’s not taking any chances. Her hysterectomy is next month. One sister left. Plus the next generation.

My breasts have given my family the option to be proactive and to undertake preventative measures. I took one for the family. That sits right with me. Thank you boobs. And foobs, you are symbolic of the choices my family now has. I love you. (.)(.)

lifestyleoftheunemployed:

6 Ways to Be Happy Now

lifestyleoftheunemployed:

6 Ways to Be Happy Now

(Source: richkidsofinstagram)

Jun 9

Dear Kitten

Funny. Very funny.

Jun 5

To be white, or straight, or male, or middle class is to be simultaneously ubiquitious and invisible. You’re everywhere you look, you’re the standard against which everyone else is measured. You’re like water, like air. People will tell you they went to see a “woman doctor” or they will say they went to see “the doctor.” People will tell you they have a “gay colleague” or they’ll tell you about a colleague. A white person will be happy to tell you about a “Black friend,” but when that same person simply mentions a “friend,” everyone will assume the person is white. Any college course that doesn’t have the word “woman” or “gay” or “minority” in its title is a course about men, heterosexuals, and white people. But we call those courses “literature,” “history” or “political science.”

This invisibility is political.

- Michael S. Kimmel, in the introduction to the book, “Privilege: A Reader” (via thinkspeakstress)