My laptop commit harakiri
It was the most amazingly prosaic swan dive from the second floor. One moment the device was in my hands, then I heard the impact as it landed, squarely, one floor below.
‘I guess it’s time to purge’
When the boy genius Apple employee looked grim, it only confirmed what I felt in my heart.
It’s time to break with the past.
My hard drive was damaged and apparently I had been backing up my data with a programme which is incompatible with the new operating system. So, all the photos, the yellow stickie musings, the poems I wrote and the quotations I collected…all gone.
Or as inaccessible as a banker’s heart.
Before, I would have hissed and spat.
Now, I just laughed. With relief.
The boy genius handed me a card for a data retrieval expert.
And it made me anxious.
What to retrieve and what to leave behind?
Some of the choices, now, post-cancer treatment, are being made for me. After returning from India, bobcat and I are more separated by our priorities than by distance. I cannot just resume my place at the table, pick up the cards and continue as before. My poker face has melted away. As well as my zest for the game. So I’m back in Toronto and assessing the collateral damage.
I am also struggling with chemo-induced menopause. That’s a significant part of the collateral damage which doesn’t hit you until it hits you.
Apparently, natural menopause is a fender bender, whereas chemo induced menopause is like hitting a brick wall at sixty miles an hour.
It’s unclear whether this is permanent or a temporary side effect. I’m taking note of all the symptoms. Like the hot flashes. Like the unfortunate changes in my personality. Which is kind of hard sometimes, as menopause affects concentration as well as my memory. Obviously, my data retrieval woes go on and on.
Small resentments find their way inside my skull. Its an orchestra, each thought loud and distinct and also harmonising together into a soundtrack. A melodramatic one.
‘How do I catch up? I’ve lost eight months of my life.’
‘Who will take care of me if I relapse?’
‘What do I do now?’
‘Why didn’t I freeze my eggs?’
Because now I long to have a baby. The desire I never experienced before. To evoke the ancestors and wash my fruit in the stream.
Like the ‘hundredth monkey’, I am a victim of collective consciousness. I am not as unique as I imagined.
Because now I want to have a baby.
Before when I was going from treatment to treatment I had little time to reflect on what I was going through.
Now I am becoming interested and curious and tender. Again.
And sometimes sad.
But at least I have an excuse to act up. Again.
The menopausal rage takes me by surprise sometimes. Maybe its a good thing bobcat’s not coming round often. Or at least he no longer parks recklessly when he comes to visit.
But that was before.
Bobcat once said: ‘perhaps the reason I came into your life was to walk with you through this.’ I was diagnosed almost a year ago because he prompted me to get extensive tests. Not just that, he paid for them. Perhaps every relationship has a purpose we cannot discern from the beginning.
I prefer to believe sometimes two people come together simply because they open each other’s hearts.
Can cancer teach me something about the nature of love?
So my girlfriends are gathering close. Only they can discern the crazy wisdom changes.
And before I spill all my colours, I remember the words I have not spoken.
‘I was dying. I am still here. The journey is the now.’
I need to take care of my body. I have been seeing an acupuncturist, Zhao Cheng, who is the director of the TCM (traditional chinese medicine) Anti-Cancer Centre. He smiles a lot to make up for his english. He is gentle and considerate. He takes my pulse every week and places the needles precisely into my flesh. The ones stuck over my hip bones hurt. They are stimulating my chi where I need it. In my ovaries. In my bone.
He hands me a package of chinese herbs after every visit. I snip open the plastic squares and mix the contents with hot water. It makes an extremely bitter tonic, which makes me feel like it must be working.
Then I went to see Lisa Doran, a naturopath recommended by my friend Tara. She took notes as I spoke and recommended some herbs as well as the 21 day Feel Good Spring Fast by the Feel Good Guru (http://feelgoodguru.com/) It’s a vegan cleanse which means no dairy, no meat, no wheat and no sugar.
I know what you’re thinking.
Why put yourself through that? After everything you’ve been through.
What I’m doing is tasting full service food. It’s delicious but even more than this is the way my body feels and functions. Undiluted energy runs through me.
I’m purging all those pepperettes. From my initiation into the Cancer Club.
Yes, we’re vegan now, sighs my father.
It’s worth a shot. This fresh possibility of good health.
Cancer is not the end of the road.
It’s a cryptic restart.
I spend a lot of time enjoying the company of friends now. And I’ve got the shrinks! The curves of my collarbones are back. My body looks pleasing to me again. I can’t take it with me to the next life, this bag of bones, but I can take care of it in this life.
And my bones. I listen to the deepest part of me.
That’s why I can’t just go back to my old life.
I found a new predisposition. It flares up so strong these days, I have to obey. I will write. A book. Soon.
And my dear friend Sindi Hawkins is battling leukemia for the third time. I’d like to glue myself to her bedside and expect the miraculous.
Here’s the cover of the Indian version of People Magazine. Thanks to Sandipan for a sensitive interview and for spreading hope for members of the cancer club in India.
And a message from Shamim and myself:
‘Thank you so much to everyone who has contributed this far to making the audio books of The World Unseen and I Can’t Think Straight happen. This is a project funded by all our wonderful fans. Shamim Sarif, author of the books and director of the movies, flew down to Mumbai two months ago, and I read both books during a week’s intensive taping.
There’s still a chunk of the budget that needs to be raised, to enable the production of the Audio Books. If anyone wishes to donate to this fund, donations are being taken at Enlightenment Press’s PayPal account and the email for donations is firstname.lastname@example.org.
In the meantime, the audio books are available for pre-order at the Enlightenment site, and the downloadable version will follow when ready.
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