No-one wants to talk to me about the possibility that the transplant could kill me.
I mention it in conversation everyone deflects: you’ll be OK, don’t
worry about that, you’re strong, you’re a fighter, but the truth is I
could die this year due to the transplant. I know that the idea is
confronting, and that people generally don’t deal with death very well
in our culture, but the reality is whether I live or die has nothing to
do with my character. It would simply be bad luck. A bit like getting
leukaemia is bad luck.
And I have to think about it.
find it interesting that I’m not panicking. I don’t suddenly want to
write a novel, or fly off to Paris or write letters to my children. And I
wonder why. The one person, a friend, who did have a conversation with
me about it, said it is because I’ve lived an authentic life. I’ve done
what I’ve wanted to do, and don’t regret the way I’ve lived. That’s
true. I do have a few regrets, but they are small. I regret not helping
other people more in certain situations. I regret spending a few years
hanging around with people who weren’t really good friends to me - it
was a stage when we were young and the truth is that they none of us
were taking care of ourselves, let alone each other, so I can’t take
that personally. I haven’t spent my life in a job that I’ve hated. I’ve
done pretty much whatever I’ve wanted. I’ve studied literature, acting,
singing. I’ve done dancing, art, writing, songwriting. I’ve left jobs
when I’ve felt stuck. I’ve spoken out publicly about issues that I care
I die, I believe I’ll just cease to exist, and I’ll have nothing to
worry about. I’m not scared about it. But it would be sad for my family.
for the children, I just trust that I’ve done a good job with them so
far (they regularly do things that make me proud of them), and, if I
die, they’ll remember me, and they’ll trust the network of family and
friends we have around us, and they’ll be fine. Although I would like
more time with them, I’ve spent almost every night of their lives
talking to them around the dinner table, and I think they know me well,
they know my views, and what I want for them. I’ll just have to stand
on my past actions as an example of how I want them to live.
all going to die. We all will be remembered according to how we lived.
That‘s just the way it is.
Thinking about death isn’t so scary afterall.