When Lucy Pevensie meets Aslan on her second trip to Narnia in Prince Caspian, she asks why he didn’t jump in and save them like the previous time in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Aslan answers, ‘Things never happen the same way twice, dear one,’ which sums up precisely my feelings about this second go at chemotherapy.
My parents were teetotallers in the main, that is until we managed to turn my father onto red wine in the latter years of his life – for the health benefits you understand. In my teen years I remember my dad bringing home all manner of non-alcoholic beverages and mixers in an ultimately futile bid to dissuade his daughters from hooking into the hard stuff for as long as possible. Claytons, the faux brown liquor that one could mix with ginger ale and pretend it was a scotch and dry, was one of these. Remember the TV ad with Jack Thompson? ‘Claytons. The drink you’re having when you’re not having a drink’. Four years down the track, it appears my recovery from breast cancer and its treatment is just like that. Continue Reading
It must be a quirk of my brain that a scene from a movie or lyrics from a song pop into my head when I’m trying to ‘allegorise’ (is that even a word?) a set of circumstances on this Big Breast Adventure. I’d blame the chemo, as I have for any vagueness, forgetfulness or just plain stupidity in the past four years, but this is something my family will attest has been an annoying fixture of my temperament for ages – long before cancer darkened my door. And I’m about to do it again now, dear readers, this time pointing you in the direction of the indomitable Shirley MacLaine as Doris Mann in the late, great Carrie Fisher’s book and film Postcards from the Edge.
Brené Brown’s seminal work Daring Greatly starts with a recap on her own opening lines to a newly appointed therapist. Dr Brown was at the time doing a PhD in shame and vulnerability, and she started her first session by saying, “I hate uncertainty. I hate not knowing.”
As I listened to the Daring Greatly audiobook these words became imbued with a strange, India rubber ball quality, causing them to bounce about in my stomach for a bit. As regular dear readers already know, I don’t believe in coincidences. Which is why I’m not at all surprised by the sudden appearance-in-my-path of Dr Brown’s reference to uncertainty (and her well-documented aversion to it) when, once again, I find myself straddling the known and the unknown on this continuing Big Breast Adventure.