Millie O’Neill
As a child, you always see your parents as these invincible super-humans. After all, they did put up with my psychologically traumatic teenage hormones at their peak. Parents want to protect you, they put on a brave face, they try to shelter you from what is dark in life. But sometimes they can’t, and sometimes, it’s important for them not to. When someone you see as so incredibly strong is forcibly made weak by disease, it’s an adjustment, to say the least. Before he got cancer, I had only seen my father fighting for me, and in that battle he was undefeated.
The poem below is about the circular patterns and routines of life, and how something as incomprehensible as cancer can put it all into perspective. Suddenly so much that was so important seems trivial. I realise what I took for granted: the moments I should have savoured; the conversations I should have had in the car on the way to school instead of glaring at a screen. Suddenly it’s a struggle to go to do simple things, like open your book in class, or maintain a bubbly and bright aura in front of peers. Everything seems superficial and inauthentic to life’s true purpose. Everyone’s complaints about minor everyday problems enrage you. When events like this give us a broader perspective, sometimes our philosophy of life changes.
Months after a serious accident, despite doing all the prescribed exercises, my right shoulder was getting worse. Simple movements caused sharp pain. Physios continued to hold out the hope of healing for this ‘small’ tear of my rotator cuff. I doubted that it would repair and said I wanted surgery. The path seemed to be blocked.
