Friday, 26 September 2014

An ashtray and a speech.

Life right now is looking a bit like an ashtray at 4am. Dirty; overflowing; full of the sad remnants, the ghosts, of the night before. Whisperings of excited conversations, speaking of sore feet and hearts and screams of horror and delight. Everything is murky and a lot more complicated than it looks. Unless, in romanticising an ashtray (maybe the ashtray has a crude message across it because it was bought in Skegness), I'm making it a lot more complicated and turning it into a lot more than just a saucer for fag ends. Anyway, I stand by my analogy. Life is a bit grim now, but the excitement, horror and delight were here not so long ago.

I'm too tired to explain. I'm too tired to do much apart from berate myself for ruining my own excitement and run of good days. It's been a pretty lovely week. It's ended with my first box of laxatives in years. It's ended with me already pained and dreading the next few days. Where, oh where, is the glamour that the pro-ana imbeciles would have you to believe existed? 

I will explain all, just not right now. I'll explain it all. For now though, here's a speech I read at my hospital's music fest this week:


(feel free to finish reading here. Or anywhere, really)


Welcome to the Big Blue Festival. We're here today to celebrate, support and fund-raise for Jeans for Genes day and MacMillan cancer care. The chances of either affecting you are a lot higher than you'd expect on first thought; I won't go into statistic mode (I'm really good at maths and once I start I won't stop), but I'd definitely recommend digging deep and researching the charities because they're really quite brilliant. Jeans for Genes day is, at its heart, a family day, due to the passing of the conditions the charity hopes to one day eradicate going down family lines. With cancer also having the ability to be passed through, both groups of conditions are pretty much family linked.

My family are so great, that sometimes telling stories of the mad craic we've done feels like bragging. Over the last few years, through the amazing women I live with here, I've learnt how lucky I am to have the genetic family that I do. More than that though, I've learnt how lucky I am to be able to forge my second family here, with those amazing women I just spoke about. I've gained 15 sisters, but we also take in turns to be whatever family role another needs. When I'm sad, like a child, sometimes I just want my mum. When I'm sad, I have over a dozen sisters to let me cry on and more often than not, give me the kick and the fight back, when I feel all is broken.

It's not all miserable. My girls, my sisters, have provided me with more laughs than I've even had in my life. They provide me with music, dancing, laughter, and, naturally, tears. Whether we are dancing in the corridor (strictly off the record), mattress surfing in the corridor (ahem, off the record), or simply sitting around and chatting, I am so honoured to be a part of this family. Blood may be thicker than water, but we are made of stars and that's really bloody bright.

I am just one woman, on one ward in this hospital and so I don't really know many people who aren't from [my ward], I'm sorry for that, because if they're anything like the Bitchez [from my ward] (trademark), I'm missing out. To my girls, thank you for your love. To any visitors today and the staff; thank you for coming to witness the incredible talent on show here. Thank you to those who have played any part in shaping any one of us. Thank you, more than anything, to my [hospital] sisters and brothers who are going to perform today.

1 comment:

  1. Rebecca, I am sorry you had a rough week... those are so tough, I have them too... not in the same as you of course but I have them...

    I was happy to read you are going to see Alex soon... I hope the 23 days goes fast and then slows down for you when you get to see her. :-*

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