When I got there the doctor said, “You know when we call you in at seven in the morning it’s not good.” She had called me in at 7.15am on Friday to give this news. I have cancer. She used words like ‘chemo’ and ‘metastasize’. She emphasised that these are words I may not need to learn. In my head there was only room for three words, the same three words recurring all weekend.
She gave me the name of a surgeon I’m to meet today, Monday, who will try to cut all the cancer out. She said, “You’ll be reassured to know that everyone’s going to be treating this as the utmost urgent priority.” I sort of half-laughed. “That is not reassuring,” I told her, wryly, and she made a comical face. I am proud of that wryness and that half laugh. Those are my courage.
She said she thought what they first found might have been inside me maybe a year. She said, best case scenario is I go into surgery this week and the new doctor, a man, cuts all of it out, he gets the lot, and after that I keep getting scanned and checked and tested for the next five years then for the rest of my life I will have to keep an eye on it and keep meeting from time to time with these doctors (“you’ll get sick of the sight of us, I promise you.”) Then there’s some spreadage and there is no cure so we irradiate it or poison it with chemo which doesn’t poison just the cancer but the host as well — me, in my body — and then at the far end is, the scans reveal it’s in your blood or lymph glands or your organs are riddled with it, we are sorry, there is nothing we can do, you have a few months, set your affairs in order.
Until the first tests come back there is no way of knowing how much cancer is in my body at this stage nor how far it may have spread.
The call from this doctor’s receptionist came as I walked out of the hospital from seeing Mum. That morning, Thursday four days back, I woke to texts from Mum at 4.30am saying hello I am very very sick and then from my brother at dawn, we are at the hospital with Mum, pneumonia and it’s not looking good. I went straight in to see her and I’ve never seen anyone so sick. She was shivering with fever and delirious and vomiting up coiling tubes of bright yellow foam like a pool noodle, like those batts you put into ceilings for insulation. We thought she was going to die. The doctors seemed to think so, too, and they told us, the family should come. When I came out of my own appointment next morning Mum had turned a sharp corner and by some miracle of resilience was sitting up in bed eating a sandwich. I was thinking what if she dies, what if she really does, what if she is dead already and she is gone and she’ll never know I have this. Instead, Mum seemed so much calmer and stronger and I visited again and made her comfortable in the too-short bed and listened to the doctors and my mother told me a story about her aunt, my great aunt, who died only two months back at 96. This great aunt had cancer, and I never knew. She had it cut out, and recovered to live this long life. Since returning from Africa at the end of 2022 I had been asking when could we drive up to see her. Instead, she died, and the day of her funeral I happened to phone and Mum said, Can’t talk now darling, we’re all in the car on the way to Warwick, and I said, Why, what’s happening in Warwick, and she said, “Auntie Berta’s funeral.” I said why — but why — how come I, and she said, smoothly, your brother put his foot down. He told us, if she goes, I’m not coming. And he’s a pallbearer.
I don’t know the source of this estrangement and no one can explain it to me. Soon it may be immortal, as far as anything human. I don’t know why my mother’s 84th birthday in November was held at this powerful brother’s house and I was not invited. I had been lured back from Ghana on the promise of the long-overdue reconciliation I had been asking for and working towards for more than a decade. That she let one of her last birthdays be celebrated without me, the whole family gathered just down the road, when I had been gone some twelve years and was actually living under her roof at that stage — I cried for days. And, in an aching gap in the crying I went to my first decent painting class and worked round the fire in my throat on my first decent painting. The boy’s name is Atta Bonye and his wry, thoughtful, sweet and spiced expression speaks to my heart. All I know is we are humans here together and life is turbulent and short. All Ghanaians know we cannot heal nor even address these painful things if the other party does not want them resolved. All we can do is cling to those things which bring life and give health, and try to distance ourselves from toxins, from cruelty in others and the impulse to cruelty if it should surface in ourselves, try to balance painful honesty with life giving kindness, try to be as real and as present as we possibly can, though it cost us everything, as they say in Accra, you have to “happy yourself.”
wait what
Comments
55 responses to “wait what”
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May all be well and speedily healed for you. Your work is precious.
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And you, of course, are precious innately, regardless of your work.
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Thank you, Cerridwen. I gladly greet your kindness.
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Very sorry to hear about the cancer, I hope everything is thrown at it and succeeds.
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It is amazing what modern medicine can do. I was diagnosed with breast cancer last year. My sister has had breast cancer, my mother had breast cancer. We all had various levels of intervention in terms of surgery and treatment over the years.
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Dear Cathoel, what can I say? I wish there was something… In this moment I just want you to know you are in my thoughts and are loved.
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Sending so much love to you xxx
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I don’t know you personally but I admire your spirit. Peace and love to you.
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I understand. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I had cancer years ago and still have to get checked etc to make sure it’s not coming back.
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Sending you every best healing wish
And strength during this tough time.
I hope you have someone you trust to support you through appointments to listen take notes & ask questions you’ve flagged are important to you.
Hugs -
You are a strong and powerful woman! You will beat this!
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I’m sorry to hear this news.
Sending love and admiration for you and these other gifts you share, your writing and painting 🩷 -
I’m shocked to hear this Cathoel.. can you receive better treatment in Germany or Australia if nescessary dear ? Hugs and love to you .. keep painting .. you really have it !! ❤️🌟
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My sister received a similarly grim diagnosis but she was strong like you and defied all expectations. May you also dear warrior woman Cathoel ❤️🔥
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Oh that is terrible news Cathoel. Love and healing vibes to you from afar. You’ve had more than your fair share of troubles and I admire your strength and resilience. I hope they carry you forward through this next journey as well.❤️
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Strength and positive energy to you Cathoel.
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Cathoel, I am so very sorry to hear this news…a sisterhood no one wants to join, but there are many of us there. Praying for a simple case and speedy healing. 🙏 ❤
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I’m so sorry for the news that you got. I wish I could change it. But what I can do is tell you good night I’ll lock up if I leave that I care about you and then I’m standing with you in prayer until, like your dear aunt, you are decades away from having to deal with this and carrying on with a wonderful life.
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Love to you, Cathoel 💕
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I am very sorry to read this, Cathoel. Best wishes for a speedy recovery.
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Love and healing to you ❤
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Sending all my love and support. If you ever need a listening ear, I’m here.
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Moon and stars pour their healing light onto you ❤️
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F*ck. I survived and so will you. We will talk, finally. Hold tight.
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Strength sister!
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Sad and sorry to read all this. Wishing you all the best healing 🙏🏼💜🌀
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I am sorry to hear your news Cathoel. Sending hugs.
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I am so sorry to hear all of this, sister. I wish you healing, strength, and love. I am holding space for you. I am here if you want a listening ear.
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I’m sorry. Prayers for your health. Mum can get a pneumococcal shot which prevents further pneumonia too x
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Healing Hugs 🤗
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Cathoel – I’m so sorry to hear this but you will surely get through as your aunt did. I wish you the best during this incredibly difficult time. I hope things will turn around with your family once they find out you are not well and that misunderstandings can, at least partially,be swept away ❤️
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I’m very sorry and I pray that you receive excellent medical care. Your strength and resilience are obvious!
Re your family, have you explored family systems theory? Clearly your entire family is mentally unwell. Although you are the healthiest one, you are suffering from their various behaviors and projections, and your own desire for their validation – which will not be forthcoming; because your brother “needs” your de-valuation and banishment to maintain his own self-valuation and the others have positioned and encouraged him to behave this way. ❤️🙏
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🌹🙏🏼
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Cut it out, forgive your family and thrive! 💓🦋
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Dear Cathoel yet another step on a rocky road. I shed tears at life’s amorality and wish for you glimpses of profound beauty, like in your wonderful paintings, as you traverse these forrested pathways.
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I am really sorry that you have to face this challenge. I know that you will be brave. You are brave. x
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Sorry to hear this news Cathoel, I hope you get the best treatment and result.
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I am so sorry to hear this…I don’t know what to say other than I send my best love to you.
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I am sorry for the cancer, for your toxic brother, and for your family allowing him to force you out. I have some experience with the latter and understand how difficult it is, especially when you need support. You are so very unique and strong and have so much yet to offer. I am sending you as much love and positive energy as I can. ❤️
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F*cking cancer. This sucks, Cathoel. I am sending you strength, respect, admiration and kindness from across the world—and a change of heart to your brother (I was going to make it a curse, but I’m trying to stay positive) ❤️
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I am with you. Stay strong xx
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So thinking if you. May you look for and find joy on this new path
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One of the very first terven I met once I understood what was at stake and started seeking others who knew. I will always be thankful.
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NOOOOOOOOOOO fuck that!! no! 😭😭😭😭 what absolute bullshit. I’m so sorry Cathoel you don’t deserve this. I will keep you in mind every day and hope that they cut it out and that that’s the end of it 🙏🙏🙏 i am here Cathoel you can PM whenever you want about whatever you want ❤️❤️❤️ stay strong I believe in you
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OMG. What news to wake to! Cathoel my lovely friend – you WILL be fine. Love you – let’s arrange a time to speak when you’re ready xxx
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Hi Cathoel, ‘what a bugger’, as my late mother would have said. What a difficult time for you. Sending you a huge hug. Take care. xxx
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Sending love. I hope the road ahead is as clear as possible for you. Good chance you’ll be well again and see this through. Living alongside my partner’s cancer has given me some insight, but everyone is different. If you need to run any thoughts by me, I will listen. Allow the grief. X
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Oh Cathoel, that’s such hard news. I’m so sorry. I hope like hell that the surgeon is the bomb and cuts it all out very effectively. I’m sorry it’s so complicated with your family too.
I hope you have good support. -
The Rodeo went out in sympathy about a month ago. Starter, Fuel Pump, Timing Gear, and the Injectors. But, five weeks later and much less financially sound, She Rolls… Best of Luck and wishes… Seamus Duffy
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I just saw this. Damned biology- it’s such a beautiful miracle, but has a million possibilities for pain. My first grandchild had cancer, a Wilm’s Tumor, at age four. She had a kidney removed and then had chemo and radiation. Now she’s 19. I want you to be in this world when I am leaving it. I’m 68 now and don’t know how much longer I have. But you can outlast me. Won’t you? Live hard and long every day, Cathoel. You have love.
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Much love to you!
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Their loss you are a wonderful, inspirational person 🌺. Surround yourself with people who give unconditional love and support, especially during the hard times. You have this!
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I’ve just been through this over the last few months Cathoel every journey is different I’m sending you strength and support. Call me if you want to talk.
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You are so brave, in every direction. Hoping for the very best outcome for you in light of this news. And your painting is a beauty.
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Hi Cathoel. We had so much more to talk about. Enjoying your many talents illustrated here, especially the writings.
I wish you a speedy recovery.
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