The value of perspective

Before I even start this blog I just want to say - does anyone feel like it's only a week before Christmas?  I realise it's not the easiest of years for me to feel all festive and fuzzy but I think the weather has decided that because Kymmy is having a less than normal Christmas, so too will Mother Nature!  And as I sit here in long pants and a comfy warm top typing on the lounge, I can see my feable attempt at a Christmas tree which this year is a pot plant (an indoor one that apparently thrives on neglect - perfect!) with a hand full of tinsel carefully and lovingly tossed over the top.  However of noteworthy importance, I did hang the most beautiful hand blown and painted glass decoration that John's sister Donna sent me years and years ago which came from Saks Fifth Avenue.  As I hung it I had a lovely conversation with Donna and asked her to do what she could to make sure my cancer is gone.  She must be thinking her brother deserves a break from supporting women with cancer.  And he does.

As I mentioned in my previous blog - I am currently in the process of change due to the chemotherapy.  Some of it's fine and some of it's challenging but all of it is normal under the circumstances and in the grand scheme of things, I think I am travelling brilliantly. 

It's been exactly a week and I want to dedicate this blog to resilience.  But it's not my resilience I am referring to.  Today I received the gift of perspective from someone else that has no idea that she provided it to me and it comes completely wrapped in resilience.  You see, it's exactly a week since I started chemo.  And seven days later, today, I found myself sitting in the Ballina Council Chambers for what must be their last council meeting of the year.  I am familiar with council proceedings these days as in my role as Regional Manager I have been working on a project to build an Aboriginal Child and Family Centre in Ballina.  This has given me cause to attend council meetings numerous times.  Today it was a big milestone as we were seeking DA approval to begin building the centre.  It's taken more than 2 years to get to this stage and it's been a long and hard battle.

I sat in the chamber surrounded by Aboriginal friends and colleagues who showed me so much love and support today, many of them I havent seen since diagnosis.  These amazing people have walked side by side with me in partnership to make this centre happen and I am honoured to say I now consider them amongst my friends.  And as we nervously sat together today I looked at my watch and realised that as deputations were happening and I was listening to someone opposing the build of this centre, it was exactly a week since I was extending my arm to the gowned up nurse to insert the cannula for my chemo.  Almost to the minute.  I was nervous on both occasions. 

But we quietly sat and listened to council once again debate the issue.  It was during these council proceedings that I was given my gift.  As I sat there reflecting on my chemo week one of the Aboriginal women sitting next to me squeezed my shoulder and asked me how I was feeling. This woman has the most amazing soulful brown eyes that are the size of saucers and when you look into them, you see her very good heart.  I briefly talked through what was happening for me and she subsequently advised me her mother also has breast cancer.  I asked how she was and what treatment she was having and she answered "none".  Astonished I asked why and she answered "she's too old to go through that treatment". When I enquired how old her mother is, she replied 62.  I turned to her and said "She's not too old!" and she answered "In our mob that's old.  We don't live as long as you do".  Boom.  Perspective.

Battles come in all shapes and sizes.   And resilience displays itself in a number of forms.  I have bucket loads of resilience.  I know I do and occasionally in my life I have had to call on it -  just like now.  But my Aboriginal friends and colleagues live resilience daily in order to exist in the same world as you and me.  And something as significant as life expectancy tragically is different for Veronika's mum compared to my mum or even me.  So as I sat in that chamber quietly fighting my own health battle I realised that so too are my partners in this Child and Family project fighting for the same long term health outcomes. The significant difference is that my outcomes are selfish, they are specifically for me.  The outcomes for those resilient people in the chamber today are for their jarjums, their babies and the babies that will be born in the next generation.  Thank you Veronika and I am so very proud to have the opportunity to be in that chamber with you and the community today.

Oh and we got the DA people :-)    K xxx