MY DARKEST NIGHT
She had answered the question. The sledgehammer had begun falling.
“There aren’t any patients who have been through this to help you.”
I stared deeply into her eyes, and then turned away.
That sickly feeling deep in my gut signalled the beginning of a realisation.
The question had been skilfully deflected by a variety of hospital personnel up until this day. I began to ponder what I really knew of the disease that had already changed my life. It had given me my first stint in hospital, made this institution a regular part of my weekly activities, and thrown me amongst the sick and dying.
What did I know?
I had been told earlier that I was in for well over a year of treatment, including drugs released into my blood and spine, and radiotherapy designed to eradicate any cancerous cells in my cranium. I could continue my studies at any pace which seemed comfortable to me, and I would resume a normal lifestyle, free from any related interruption, after the course was completed. It wouldn’t matter if I had to repeat a year or two. I was young for Year 12.
I was in for a large shock.
This initial feeling was similar to ones which I have experienced before and since. It is a reaction which the body saves for times that are serious and threatening, such as injuries sustained in sport and car accidents. In 1986, I was hit by a speeding car, which crushed my driver's door, and then pushed me sideways fifty metres up the road. It then skidded head-on into a power pole. My wife Anne realized something was amiss when the power went off for the entire suburb. The feeling which arose immediately was the same - a mixture of fear and shock. When I was struck on the cheekbone with a cricket ball, which I couldn’t see, bowled by the opening quick it felt similar. My cheekbone was crushed but my reaction was not pain, it was shock.
