30. The Umbilical Cord

According to Google, when an umbilical cord is cut, “it cuts off the flow of blood between the baby & the placenta”. The cord is no longer needed despite it being the sole connection to comfort & warmth while the baby is in the womb. When I left the radiation department for the last time, I took a deep breath as though I was now let go, to walk on my own, to let go the comfort & care of those who understood me; who let me cry; who let me have a bad day, good day. I was an “accepted” cancer patient. This umbilical cord was cut. Deep breath again.

Yes it was tiring to go every day for radiation treatment. I even jokingly asked the nurses if they could rent out a room so that I need not go home only to come back the next day. Having said that, going everyday was just a matter of knowing what to wear & which lip stick colour I was going to daze in. Then when the last day came, I couldn’t complain that “it was everyday”. It hit me.

I felt lost & abandoned on the last day when I walked out of the radiation department. I sentimentally asked if I could hold on to the time schedule card for memory sake. Everyone noded quickly & kindly said they hope not to see me again. Well meant but it took away the cotton that was embalmed around me. I did not cry but held my head high. I thanked the receptionist, put on my huge sun glasses & walked out, into my car, put on Tina Turner’s “The Best” loud & drove home.

I was warmly told that I could contact anyone in the different department for any forthcoming issues or if I had any questions. They were throwing me a thin line of comfort; a thin line to make me feel that all is not lost; a thin line that I still could have a telephone contact no matter what. Like the song by Charlie Puts “One Call Away”. It was comforting. Until I look for the umbilical cord.

I know I have my solid support team including family. They will & have showered me with kindness & presence which am ever grateful for. You know, you can still feel alone in a crowd? I will encounter such feelings now & then. I guess it is normal & will not apologise for this. I will need that alone feeling to ponder, punch, puke, bang my head (can’t pull my hair) or simply procrastinate. Who cares! It is part of the journey. Feeling alone does not equal to feeling lonely. Until I look for the umbilical cord..

Call me melodramatic! I accept that if that is what it takes to show my feeling; if that is how you want to define my present journey, the journeys of many a cancer patient. It is just a word but it carries so much more than the spelling of it. It is a heavy word overflowing with emotions that is needed. For survival. For cancer. Everything is relatively not permanent. So is the umbilical cord & I must let it go now. Thank you for holding me through the pain, knocks, fears, laughter & tears, hurt, sleepless nights, tiny victories & huge disappointments, madness & craziness, not forgetting all the swear words that made me feel good.

I am grateful & proud that I have come this far; love you for your continued support (you know who you are) & God with whom I still have my crazy conversations.

Life is one big movie after all, so I will continue to act & dance, or exaggerated acting. No, my treatment ain’t over; I am on medication now but let me whisper, that is another story to act! Let me get my lipstick.

I heard the Whispers of the umbilical cord ….”you will survive”

November 2022