It’s a horrible monster.
I first heard about leukemia when I was about 9 years old when my dad told my that his sister was admitted to hospital to get treatment for a ‘serious issue’ as he put it. When I went to see her I was so excited because she had the coolest new hairstyle – who would not want a shaved head? But then she started coughing more, she started getting more tired everyday and my dad told me that I need to not demand play time every time I visited her in the hospital because she didn’t have the energy for it. Over the next few months she looked like she didn’t eat anything, her eyes sunk into her head and her arms looked all spidery with all the blue and green veins popping out. Then came that day when my dad came home and told me that my aunt got a very high fever and because her was already sick, her body couldn’t handle it and she had passed away. All I could think of were my cousins – who was going to go for their prize givings? who was going to help them with homework? who was going to cook them their favourite meals? I guess cancer won.
Recently my mum called me and told me that my mother was diagnosed with a form of blood cancer. The reality of this statement didn’t really hit me until I actually saw her and realised how the monster had taken over my grandmother. We couldn’t grab hold of her hand because she would bruise at the slightest touch, she couldn’t move around much because water had lodged into her joints and her knees had become like jelly – the monster wins every time. It breaks my heart to look at how frail my magnificent and strong grandmother has become, it breaks my heart that this monster, this sickness is taking away her ability to live the way she wants to, it breaks my heart to see her getting a blood transfusion every three months. She refuses to be on chemo because she says that she has lived a long life and doesn’t need to take away the opportunity of life from someone who is younger – which my heart hurt even more, she truly is a magnificent woman. It’s not fair.
Cancer has seeped its way into the lives of so many people I love and I haven’t been able to do anything but stand on the sidelines and watch it take over.
I have been trying to do my best to beat this disease over the past year and this year I have decided to take part in the World’s Greatest Shave which raises money to support families with patients diagnosed with cancer as well as raise funds to find urgent cures. I know this is a small feat compared to the uphill battle that is dealing with and finding a cure for cancer – but I hope that it will make a difference.
*If you would like to donate to this cause and help me shave my hair for a good cause please follow this link here.
Reading through my past posts, I realised that they don’t necessarily paint the best picture of men and the truth is I have been so very very blessed to have strong, positive and wonderful male figures in my life. So this post is dedicated to all you wonderful guys.
Stumbled across this gem – I love the interweb
I had a pretty full on week (got a assigned a new job role so I was doing hand over all week which was great but also draining). I haven’t had the time to blog and I thought I’d do something tonight but I am sitting here and I’ve got nothing. I guess I am just having one of those weeks…
She used to turn up to work every day. During her two years of being employed she has never taken a day off, ever. But she is always tired and sick to the extent where she doesn’t actually do any work and gets reprimanded by everyone around her. “You are letting the team down,” they say, “she is such a LAZY woman,” some grumble. One day she was so sick that she had to be taken to the hospital by some of the people at work. That was the day everyone realised just how helpless she truly was.
Over the past year she had undergone two abortions (at least). But, it wasn’t her choice. It wasn’t safe. Her husband didn’t like to use condoms because he thought it made him less of a man. So when she did become pregnant, his way of ‘taking care of it’ was to accompany her to his friends garage. At this garage, his friend proceeded to use bicycle spokes and pliers to ‘remove’ the fetus from her womb. The (actual) doctor found bits that were left behind after this ‘surgery’ which had festered inside her causing her to be severely sick. Things could have been a little better if she had been treated earlier (or if she was able to opt for an actual safe abortion but that’s a different story altogether) but her husband told her to quit whining and get to work. She was helpless.
This is not about being pro choice or pro life. It’s about education. Its about advocacy. Its about being pro woman. How many women are out there, who like her are helpless.
I have always struggled with the concept of home. I have trouble associating a specific geographical region to the concept of home. But does it have to be such an association?
To me home is a feeling:
Home is walking around in torn pyjamas, bed hair and morning breath (for hours, maybe the whole day) and not caring.
Home is waking up in the morning and listening to familiar noises around me (whether it’s the sound of my mum preparing breakfast or my dad’s early morning sneezes or the sound of my partner getting in to the shower or the sound of my dog walking around the house).
Home is memories of all the times my brother and I danced and sang to every single song from the Lion King soundtrack because we genuinely thought we were the most talented duo out there.
Home is sitting next to my husband and watching our favourite TV show and drinking hot chocolate.
Home is when friends walk in unannounced like it’s the most natural thing in the world and proceeding to spending hours laughing till our stomachs ache.
Home is trying to wrestle with my dog and ending up getting my face covered with sloppy ‘kisses’.
I guess, for me home isn’t necessarily a particular place – to me home is where the heart is.
I am going to be honest, Over the past five years I have created and deleted three blogs because I was just not comfortable with sharing anything I had to say with anyone. So with all that, to be nominated for the a Premio Dardos Award is a massive boost for my confidence! Thank you so much to Jess Combs for being a fantastic supporter of my blog 😀
Premio Dardos means “prize darts” in Spanish and is an award given “in recognition of cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values transmitted in the form of creative and original writing.”
The Premio Dardos Award Rules:
1) Include the Premio Dardos Award Picture and the name of the person that nominated you (Include a link to their blog)
2) Nominate 10-15 other bloggers
3) Thank the blogger, who nominated you in your blog and link back.
Here are my nominees:
Lots of love to you all.