The other night I went to bed and started to read 'Anticancer', a book by a man called David Servan-Schreiber, who was diagnosed with brain cancer and managed to ward it off via chemotherapy and good nutrition and exercise. I mentioned the book earlier in this blog, when I made a made a list of necessary chemo kit. I love the book because I feel slightly in control of my health; I feel that I have a say in how this cancer affects me. Thus, I flit in and out of it, reading it whenever I feel that I have forgotten its basic tenets, or just because...
In the midst of my reading the other night however, I wondered what Dr Servan-Schreiber was up to, so I googled his name. Mistake. As it turns out, the brain cancer which had attacked him initially at the very young age of 31, finally did its job on its third recurrence just July this year, when he was 50. I felt bereft; the cancer finally won in the end.
I started to compute: if I live another 20 years, eldest son C will be 33 and the twins will be 31. I know this sounds terribly morose, but the funny thing is, the thought of death doesn't scare me now. It's the thought of leaving too soon that bothers me. I continued to compute: 10 years from now? Nope, they'll still be too young and they'll still need me. And on and on. And as a consequence, I slept very badly that night, thinking and thinking of the consequences of me going at every possible age.
I'm scared because I don't want to die just yet. I know that it isn't necessarily going to be cancer that will claim me in the end - I could get run over by a bus for all I know! But I just feel so much more vulnerable now. I suppose I was almost smug before, with my healthy no smoking, no drinking, organic, manic exercise lifestyle.
I know there's no point in worrying about it; after all, there's nothing much I can do. However I cannot help it - surely this is normal? In the meantime, I suppose I should just follow Dr S-S' lifestyle suggestions and hope that I get at least another 20 years by following his lead.