Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Lynn Redgrave

I'm not a celebrity watcher. Still, the news that Lynn Redgrave had died peacefully after a seven year battle with breast cancer came as a bit of a shock to me. I knew that she had cancer. I knew that she had done a series of pictures on it. I thought it was very brave of her. I remember thinking at the time, "I don't think that I could do that," and years later, I didn't. I dealt with cancer and there are no pictures. Well. Very few of them, anyway. And I'm clothed in all of them.

Anyways, you know, cancer leaves a person with all sorts of questions, and I try mightily to squelch them. I mean, I get off track sometimes, and I worry about things, but mostly, I simply try to forget about it. Put it in the past, in its own little compartment and simply not think about it anymore. It's hard because I'm also trying to be vigilent about my own health. There's a line in there, I suppose, but it gets blurred sometimes. So, I stumble, and then regain my footing, stumble again, regain my footing. I read about Lynn Redgrave over at Paula's and I remembered when I first read the news. "She died after a seven year struggle with breast cancer.' There is something a little shocking in reading the stark words, the plain unvarnished truth. Breast cancer can kill you. *blink* The knowledge is there, in that little compartment right along with all the rest of it. It always has been there, I suppose, but it comes as a shock to read the words anyway. Reading about someone who has died always seems to unlock that little compartment, and all that crap comes tumbling out. For an instant I am drowning in what-ifs, but then I take a deep breath, put all that stuff back into its little compartment, say a little prayer, and get on with living. That's the only way I know to handle it.

8 comments:

quid said...

You describe so well in words what cancer survivors often tell me.
The small shock in reading that "someone else" has succumbed. The brief fade into fear. Then the locking away and moving on. Well done!

quid

Brianna said...

I know it's hard, Mom. Trust me, I have that same compartment, with the same worries! But you're right, all we can do is put that crap away, close the door, and let it alone...until next time it all comes spilling out, anyways! :)

BUSH BABE said...

I hope the box is big and strong. I'll help you sit on it, okay? Cause that's what friends do.
Hugs
BB

Debby said...

*scootches over to make room for BB*

WhiteStone said...

Thanks for the link to Vanessa. Her photos are so "brave". By that I don't mean that she was brave to have them taken...I mean SHE was so BRAVE! As are all of us who are dealing with cancer. Bravely setting aside the "what ifs" and moving forward, one step at a time, taking care of today.

Thanks again for the link. I had never seen this series of photos...they were good for me.

Kelly said...

"For an instant I am drowning in what-ifs, but then I take a deep breath, put all that stuff back into its little compartment, say a little prayer, and get on with living."

This speaks volumes.

(((hugs)))

Bill of Wasilla said...

Those are tough pictures - wow! I can only imagine how they feel to you.

I'm glad you are with us and trust that you will be for decades to come.

Paula said...

For some reason ... perhaps because I was diagnosed the day before I was due to go on holiday ... I knew that my passport was up for renewal in April. So ... back in September ... a few days before my hair dropped out following my first chemo ... I had my photo taken ... so that when I went to get a new one I would have a reasonable pic. Only one of two pics that I have had taken in the last year ... the other one was on Boxing Day ... when the chemo meant I was at my worst ... and which I will publish this Christmas!

The pics of Lynn were very thought provoking.

P xox