Blog No. 339 - Healing (1) - 1 November 2025

 Myself writing out a quick script before filming. It was such a beautiful day. 

Healing (1)

- 9 October 2025 - 

If it takes years of suffering to become a Cancer Ghost,

Why should I ever hope to heal quickly?

Surely healing must take years to achieve.

But it has now been more than 2 years since Margaret died,

Logic says I must have healed at least a little.

The trouble with my logic is that I ignored it for years.

I cannot rely on it at all, except when it suits me.

When Margaret became so mortally ill,

I accepted what logic said,

But I followed my heart anyway.

Somehow, through force of my total love,

I would keep her alive.

In my crazy kind of way, I did defy logic.

Margaret lived long past her supposed expiry date.

But there was always a price to pay.

The longer she lived,

The greater her pain became.

The longer Margaret lived, the greater my own suffering.

Life is full of trade offs.

Although I kept her alive,

She paid a heavy price in suffering.

I kept Margaret alive by giving her ever greater chunks of me.

The bigger the chunk I gave her,

The less of me that was left.

It kept everything in balance,

Sort of.

The universe said,

You want her to live by surrendering bits of yourself,

Sure, it will work for a while;

Sort of.

She will gain ever greater suffering,

But you can keep her alive a while longer.

And just a friendly little reminder for you.

If you keep giving away bits of yourself,

Your own life force keeps getting smaller,

And she will still die anyway.

In the desperation of love,

I took the deal.

I have plenty to give,

I wanted her to have it!

So Margaret received my love,

Received the life force I threw at her so plentifully,

And,

Impossibly Margaret kept living.

The dead woman walking, kept walking.

I kept losing ever bigger chunks of me,

While I kept losing her.

Like all hopeless battles,

The end was never in doubt,

Except in my own head.

When the battle was finally over,

I saw the usual stretch of wasteland,

The remains that haunt every battlefield.

Death always has its way.

And I became irrelevant that day.

A spectator to my wife’s death performance.

Reduced to the role of minor actor.

Someone had to say,

“Let her die”. 

I became that someone.

Someone had to sob as if his heart would break.

I became that someone.

Someone had to make the impossible promise.

The promise that only I could make.

I made the promise to be okay.

I knew somehow,

I would continue to do the impossible.

I would keep my impossible promise.

In a technical sense, my healing must have begun seconds before Margaret died.,

The moment I made the promise to be okay.

What does that mean?

It means I have kept trying,

Impossibly, I have kept trying.

I have stayed away from the alcohol.

I knew I would never be able to empty any bottle of booze.

I have maintained my exercise program.

I am as fit mentally and physically as I can be.

I have challenged myself to do the impossible.

I walked the Kokoda Track,

I walked it with a broken and dislocated shoulder.

I have tried to meet new people,

Replacements for the Cancellation Crew I once knew,

The Cancellation Crew who turned both of us into Cancer Ghosts.

Sometimes, briefly,

I enjoy being alive.

I suppose I must be healing.

But if I am healing,

Why do I still feel like a dog turd most of the time?

I wish I could hasten up the healing.

The death of Margaret was so quick,

Surely I am entitled to equally quick healing?