It’s 4.14 am. I’m not lying awake worrying as such, just lying awake. So I may as well write. I woke up about an hour ago, to go to the toilet. I slept well until then, falling asleep in front of my computer playing a Bewitched DVD. I’ve always liked Bewitched. I used to look forward to it when I was six years old in Northern Ireland. And now I’m 45 and in a Darwin hospital.
One of those things I think about briefly when it comes on is how Elizabeth Montgomery died of cancer. Another person whose death from cancer disturbs me is George Harrison’s. I think if such a spiritual (and materially rich) man couldn’t beat this, what can I do? But then I think, there is no way of knowing how, why. There is no point in comparisons.
Although I do think that dying of cancer, although common, is not common among spiritual leaders, and is not common among passionate livers. There are some exceptions. But it would be interesting to see the comparisons.
Some of the many analogies for cancer I’ve seen include cancer as frustrated creativity. I feel some truth in this. Also, cancer as an individual manifestation of how our multi-national capitalism treats its own environment – unrestricted growth, at the expense of everything else in the environment; no real function other than reproduction.
This also rings true to me, but I don’t see why I should choose to manifest this myself.
However, in general, I don’t worry too much about why. I’m only interested in why insofar as knowing can help.
Tomorrow – later today – I suppose I will mainly sleep. As one does after a general anaesthetic. It doesn’t matter that I’m awake now. It is very quiet tonight in the hospital. I don’t need my earplugs. For this I am grateful, after 2 nights where the man next door found it necessary to watch television very loudly until 4am. Now the only sounds are the building breathing, and my computer fan whirring, and the poor man next door occasionally hiccupping. He is particularly susceptible to hiccups.
At 6am, the night nurse will get me up and showered for theatre, some time in the morning. I wonder if I’ll sleep again before then? Or if I’ll just ramble on, or read The power of now, or The inheritance of loss, or watch Bewitched again. I’m lucky I have so much that entertains me, just lying in bed. Thinking, reading, writing, music, musing, meditating, watching.
I read a funny poem today by Judith Viorst, where she talks about how, no matter what happens to her, there are always people around who tell her how lucky she is.
The really funny thing is that it’s true.