When y friends sometimes call me ‘brave’ or ‘an inspiration’, although I know full well that it’s well-meaned and I truly appreciate the well wishes they send me… I am not inspirational.
I am currently on a ward in The Christie hospital and have been for a week and a half.
Inspirational to me, is the woman lay softly sleeping across from me right now. The woman who is currently hooked up to her 16th out of god knows how many chemotherapy treatments. The woman who, as she was diagnosed with cancer and subsequently went through her own personal issues with what that entails… buried her husband 4 weeks ago, after his long bout with illness. She planned his funeral alongside him, and I was honoured when she asked if I wanted to read the ‘manuscript’ (correctly terminology?) from the humanist funeral they had for him. She remains bright and cheeful and full of life, despite the cards that have been dealt for her. She is quite frankly amazing, and after reading what type of person her husband was, they were perfect for each other.
I can hear her mumbling in her sleep, and I can only hope that it’s her husband sneaking into her dreams so they can be together again, walking in the hills with their dogs without a care in the world…
That to me - is an inspiration.