Coppin' the Chemo

By Frances Bolton

'Sitting in the rainforest, my mind lost in cascades, the world was wet ... I drew healthy damp oxygen into my lungs, wondering how on earth I could possibly have cancer on such a lovely, perfectly damp day in such a lovely, perfectly damp spot. I thought back to that awful wet and windy day in July, when I was told by a nurse with a deadpan expression that I definitely had IT. It was my daughter who cried, not I. I was overcome by a strange sensation as I put my arm around her. I realised, in my busy life, that now could be my Down Time. I had a family who loved me, so would I not be gently cared for … cushions appearing for my head and stools for my feet, as if by magic? I would be plied with hot tea and cups of soup...

But how wrong could I be?'

'And so I arrived at Springbrook – in wet muddy weather, where, through the packing boxes and the up-ended sofa, I could see the clouds drifting towards us from the hills and smell the green of the trees. To me, it was the perfect weather and place to recuperate from a hard year. One which had been filled with waiting rooms, crossword puzzles and fellow sufferers.'

'To friends and fellow sufferers – including you who know someone close who is or has gone through this – may you have help in your pain and tears. But also do not be afraid to laugh. Laughter is, after all, just some happy cells in your body jiggling up and down doing their aerobics – and who can argue with that? May those little happy cells exercise so cheerfully that they will push those clumped up bad ones right out of existence.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frances Bolton
• Release date: Feb 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466076334

Frances Bolton

Frances Bolton, former teacher and marker for the Core Skills Test (QSA) has been published as part of an Education initiative in Darling Downs schools (1986) and also in poetry, article and short story. A cancer survivor who belongs to the 'look on the bright side' brigade, she has written a short memoir - 'Coppin' the Chemo' - which she hopes will help fellow sufferers to believe that laughter is still the best medicine.

Book preview

Coppin’ the Chemo

Breast Cancer

A View from the Bright Side

Frances Bolton

Copyright 2010 Frances Bolton

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Acknowledgements

Free short story: Choices

Previous Works

Contact Frances

Disclaimer:

This is a true story. My family often say that I tweak the truth in favour of poetic licence or a good yarn. For this I apologise. Most of the names have been changed in a minor attempt to preserve dignity.

To those who have gone through a similar journey,

whether they have won or lost

Chapter 1

Sitting in the rainforest, my mind lost in cascades, the world was wet. The most magical tumbling water announced weeks of rain, where ghost ferns dripped from trees against a backdrop of white sky. I drew healthy damp oxygen into my lungs, wondering how on earth I could possibly have cancer on such a lovely, perfectly damp day in such a lovely, perfectly damp spot.

It was raining back in Brisbane last year, the day I got the news. Pouring, in fact. A couple of months earlier I had been wandering happily around the craft show when a Breastscreen stall caught my eye. Now I had been singularly lax in keeping up with the required mammograms, avoiding Jana Wendt’s eye as she admonished me through her TV commercial. I was not really worried, though the signs that something odd was going on in my body were there, signs I ignored. My family had no history of breast cancer, did they?

As if I would know. How many ancestors does one know?

I put my name down, had the mammogram, and let us forward to that awful wet and windy day in July amongst the bitumen and carbon monoxide, when I was told by a nurse with a deadpan expression that I definitely had IT.

It was my daughter who cried, not I. As I put my arm around her I had a strange sensation of … almost relaxation. Now would be my Down Time. That I would be well looked after by doctors, hospitals and nurses I had no doubt, a belief which turned out to be correct. No, it was my family and work life of which I was thinking. My busy, busy life was on hold. I would be gently loved, cushions would appear for my head and stools for my feet as if by magic, and I would be plied with hot tea and cups of soup.

Yes, my family loved me dearly. They worried about me, cried for me. But as for the rest! Here’s one person’s knockdown, jog-through account of the months after you’ve been told. It may make you laugh, it may make you cry, but through all of the pain, discomfort and prayers I would hope that you glimpse that life does go on as usual; and usual does not always mean like TV and movies. Usual means there are still bills to pay, a house to run, and a few more big things from left field that we will learn about as this tale unfolds.

Personalities don’t change; former ills don’t disappear as medical expertise focuses on the cancer. From somewhere I heard the saying: what doesn’t kill you, strengthens you. Guess what, the saying is right. I feel that I would not be as strong nor as well as I am today if over the past months I’d had nothing more to think about than how hot the soup was or whether the tea was in my favourite cup.

The first big thing that happened when I arrived home after hearing the news so many months ago was that my two adult daughters had a huge fight. A great, verbal, full-throttle one. It had to do with my eight-year-old grand-daughter wanting to watch Casper the Friendly Ghost on DVD. Her mother said no, her auntie said yes. The commotion that ensued between Mum and Auntie had to be heard to be believed. Phrases like ‘Don’t interfere between mother and daughter’, and ‘You’re too hard on her’, popped up here and there, along with a lot of water under the bridge – and deep concerns about their mum.

Dear little Emilee ran between one and the other making small pleas and hand movements, for all the world like a bewildered fairy trying to douse a wildfire with a watering can. I stood stunned, wondering just where my footstool, tea and hot soup had gone.

Finally Emilee sidled up to me and put her arms around me.

‘Do something, Grandma. You’re their mother.’

And so my journey had begun. I was still in charge, I was still Mother. In this most momentous journey of my life, at the end of the day, as evening and rain fell on the windowsills, it was still up to me.

The argument ended. When all was said and done I had not been a teacher dealing with wilful Year 9 boys for years for nothing. Crystal and Sahara retired to opposite ends of the house to collect themselves, and for want of something to do I sat on the sofa with my arm around Emilee. Anyone watching may have remarked that I was staring into space like a stunned mullet, for that was how I felt.

Emilee broke the silence. She leant close and whispered in my ear, ‘Now can I watch Casper the friendly ghost?’

I thought about it. I whispered in turn in her ear, ‘Darling, if I were you I would not mention Casper the friendly ghost for a long time.’

‘How long is a long time?’

I considered. We are, after all, a very literal family.

‘Fifteen minutes,’ I said.

That night as Emilee and I lay in our small twin-share bedroom in Crystal’s house, where we all happened to be staying, I coughed. It was still an awful winter and – did I mention it? – I still had a cold. Emilee’s small voice sounded in the darkness.

‘Are you in pain, Grandma?’

‘No, not really.’

‘I can’t imagine what it would be like to have cancer and a bad cough.’

I think that was the most out-there considerate thing the little girl had ever said to me, to date.

Beats soup and cups of tea any time.

The next day Sahara went home to her life and her family business, whilst Emilee and I stayed with Crystal. Whether Crystal was supposed to be minding Emilee and me or I was in charge of Emilee was unclear. It was shopping day at the local centre and we all ended up there, including John-Paul.

I