Nathaniel Burns's Blog - Posts Tagged "love"
The Relentless Spirit of a Woman
I spent some quiet time the other day ruminating over things. We all need those quiet reflective moments, if only to catch up with ourselves, our lives, and where we think we ought to be going.
Well, that was not quite what I'd intended on doing. I'd been deliberating on some character traits for a new character. I needed someone strong that readers could identify with, and like most authors, I'm often drawn to draw inspiration from my past experiences, my family and friends.
This got me reminiscing... and I took some time to recollect all the friends I have gathered over the years. One of them stood out above the others, Jacky. To me Jacky was both a mentor and a friend, and whilst the nostalgia of our shared friendship, which breached a nearly fifteen year age gap, washed over me, I could not help but remember the extraordinary strength of character she displayed during her time with us.
You see, Jacky was diagnosed with breast cancer, and her doctors were honest enough about the extent of her condition, they gave her six months without treatment. But, if her treatments were successful, she would one day get to see her grandchildren.
There are two distinctive things I remember about Jacky. The first is that she was possibly the most down to earth, and friendly, person you could've had the pleasure of meeting, and, that she was a fighter. It was that fighter in her that opted for treatment.
Jacky used to have her chemotherapy treatments on Mondays. I used to visit her on Tuesday mornings, before the poison really got a hold of her. I therefore never saw her at her worst, unlike her husband and two children, who unlike me, couldn't decide when it was a good time to see her. I can't even begin to fathom what they'd experienced. It'd been difficult enough to watch a beloved friend and mentor suffer from something so undeserving.
I remember everyone's elation once the news of the cancer having gone into remission broke, the gratitude and exultation that filled us as we watched her regain her strengths. Then the staggering numbness that befell us two years later, when news came that it had returned.
To say that it'd been a dark cloud of despondency, hanging over their household, would be an understatement. It had sucked the life out of everyone, even as Jacky, gallantly, once again opted for treatment, fully intent on beating it.
Mitchell, her husband, kept up a brave front in her presence. But away from her, I could see it eating away at him. I then became aware of the amount of fortitude it took, to see a loved one go through those incredibly painful treatments, not once, but twice.
Jacky lived long enough to see her daughter married, and at that stage, we were grateful for every day she so staunchly fought for, unwilling to give in.
It's only now that I realize that, like so many others, Jacky's fight was one based on hope, love, trust and support. I remember the hope we felt with every scan. I remember her love of life, and the trust we placed in the doctors as they pumped her full of poisons, knowing that it was only our belief in her, which gave us the strength to support her.
When I look at Wendy now, I see a woman strengthened through life's challenges. I see her mother's relentless spirit live on, I see it in her unwillingness to allow anything to get the better of her. She's another unsung hero, and a worthy character.
Well, that was not quite what I'd intended on doing. I'd been deliberating on some character traits for a new character. I needed someone strong that readers could identify with, and like most authors, I'm often drawn to draw inspiration from my past experiences, my family and friends.
This got me reminiscing... and I took some time to recollect all the friends I have gathered over the years. One of them stood out above the others, Jacky. To me Jacky was both a mentor and a friend, and whilst the nostalgia of our shared friendship, which breached a nearly fifteen year age gap, washed over me, I could not help but remember the extraordinary strength of character she displayed during her time with us.
You see, Jacky was diagnosed with breast cancer, and her doctors were honest enough about the extent of her condition, they gave her six months without treatment. But, if her treatments were successful, she would one day get to see her grandchildren.
There are two distinctive things I remember about Jacky. The first is that she was possibly the most down to earth, and friendly, person you could've had the pleasure of meeting, and, that she was a fighter. It was that fighter in her that opted for treatment.
Jacky used to have her chemotherapy treatments on Mondays. I used to visit her on Tuesday mornings, before the poison really got a hold of her. I therefore never saw her at her worst, unlike her husband and two children, who unlike me, couldn't decide when it was a good time to see her. I can't even begin to fathom what they'd experienced. It'd been difficult enough to watch a beloved friend and mentor suffer from something so undeserving.
I remember everyone's elation once the news of the cancer having gone into remission broke, the gratitude and exultation that filled us as we watched her regain her strengths. Then the staggering numbness that befell us two years later, when news came that it had returned.
To say that it'd been a dark cloud of despondency, hanging over their household, would be an understatement. It had sucked the life out of everyone, even as Jacky, gallantly, once again opted for treatment, fully intent on beating it.
Mitchell, her husband, kept up a brave front in her presence. But away from her, I could see it eating away at him. I then became aware of the amount of fortitude it took, to see a loved one go through those incredibly painful treatments, not once, but twice.
Jacky lived long enough to see her daughter married, and at that stage, we were grateful for every day she so staunchly fought for, unwilling to give in.
It's only now that I realize that, like so many others, Jacky's fight was one based on hope, love, trust and support. I remember the hope we felt with every scan. I remember her love of life, and the trust we placed in the doctors as they pumped her full of poisons, knowing that it was only our belief in her, which gave us the strength to support her.
When I look at Wendy now, I see a woman strengthened through life's challenges. I see her mother's relentless spirit live on, I see it in her unwillingness to allow anything to get the better of her. She's another unsung hero, and a worthy character.
