tests. – RAPHAELA ANGELOU

It was my friend’s funeral this week. My little girl sat beside me, holding my hand, and whispering, “I love you mummy.” Two funerals for two young mums is two too many. Life is an excruciating mystery. Would we dare open our hearts inviting others to view the contents if we knew we could lose each other at any moment? Would it make life more precious or less bearable?

I was due to have a mammogram, and intended to do so. Life got busy, and I put it off. Then, I felt a lump. I had a few tests done the other day, including the mammogram. When the technician came back and said that the doctor wanted more images of one side, I felt some anxiety. I was there for a few hours, and you know what? It ultimately felt empowering. So much is out of our control, yet when a doctor advises you to have certain tests, it gives control back to you. I felt that my life was valued, and that I was honouring my daughter by having these tests. I wasn’t frightened. Rather, I knew I would cope if anything was found. Fortunately, the lumps turned out to be cysts. I will be monitored regularly, and I know how blessed I am. If you are putting off having tests, or burying your head in the sand concerning a worrying health issue, please don’t. Dealing with it is such a relief.

In the midst of all the sadness, there was the light of my child. We watched A Midsummer Nights Dream, as she is playing Titania in her drama class, and she made art and delighted in the novelty of finding a telephone booth at The Rocks.

Life is such a funny thing. Heartbreaking, mystifying and everything in between. At the end, only the good stuff ends up on the cinematic reel of your life. I reckon it’s a bit like being presented with the big red book from ‘This is your Life.’ The pain and sickness, the suffering and strife dies. Your unencumbered spirit remains. That is what I like to think.

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I walked reluctantly to the neurosurgeon’s rooms. “I don’t want to be here!” my mind screamed. I had seen him four years prior, after slipping over in my town. I had heard a snap in my back, and sure enough, I had broken my spine in several places through the thoracic region. He sent me for an MRI, and I had it, but never went back to him. I couldn’t face it at the time. I had a small child, practically a baby. I was nervous about seeing him again. Would he be angry with me? I was immediately put at ease. He put me through an examination, and found there is quite a significant deficit in the nerves through my right side,from my foot to my hand. I cried when he said he was in awe of me and how I kept going. He knows the pain is severe, and he knows nothing he does will make it better. “How did you survive that fall? Nobody could survive that!” he exclaimed. He wants me to bring a copy of my book to give his daughter. I told him that his praise meant a lot. More tests have been ordered, and I am going back in July. A day I was dreading-which had dredged up the crime responsible for this appointment-had been transmuted into a day of clarity, pride and redemption.