Nearly another year older: 29 things to do by next year.

Tomorrow, I turn another year older into my late 20’s.  Slowly, slowly edging ever more closer to 30. It’s crazy because I still feel 21 in my head. I still get I.D’d for booze at bars and if I’m really trying it on, I still get Teen cinema tickets at the local Odeon. 

But my life is that of an 18 year olds. I still rent, I don’t even own a wok (this is going to change), no kids,   no pension. I’m still a student, albeit I prefer researcher  now (PhD). Getting really sick in my 20’s kind of funked things up a bit. I lost time for making and meeting people and things. I lost money, and I spent a whole-lot of it when I got it — YOLOing or trying to find cures for my fatigue.

By societies standards, I’m not a success. But in my own standards (and I think this is what matters) I’m relatively happy with where I am right now.  I mean, I am alive. I get to travel, I get to do what I love every day. I get to try and make a difference. And my life is sweeter than it ever was before, because the stakes are higher. I feel time is like an old friend who helps me to see things with much more clarity. I have incredible friends & family who are there for me, every-step-of-the-way.    

As I missed New Years being sick, and as I enter the year of Copper on the periodic table: I feel like I aim to see things differently: 

glass: more sea, less broken 

music: more live, less elevator

dreams: more lucid, less fever

flies: more dragon, less horse

fires: more camp, less brush

roads: more country, less service

slides: more water, less land

light: more moon, less brake

letters: more love, less demand

sins: more carnal, less original.

Here’s 29 things I am going to do this year

1.) stare at the stars with the people I love.

When I fell sick, my first night of wide-eyed clarity was spent  staring at the milky-way on the ballfield on an island in New Hampshire. USA, thinking about all the things I haven’t done & might never get to do. Now when I look at the night sky. it shifts me back to that feeling, being part of the universe, but also grounds me. I feel the weight of time. It’s beautiful, and technically we’re just staring at the past. What better thing to share with people you love? Time travel.

2.)  make my own ice-cream

When I stayed with Tizzy & Tara in Washington DC in 2011, we drunkly came home & I really wanted some ice-cream. All they had was Lavendar and honey. I thought it would be gross – but I was SO wrong.  chomped it all and felt guilty. I’ve never been able to find this ice-cream, ever again, since. I will re-create it this year.

3.) go to the coast of italy and draw the towns from the sea.

4.) design my own typeface/font.

5.) straddle the International Date Line

6.) tell my mom I love her

7.) Play the piano 

8.) run

because who knows when you might not be able to

9.) go surfing

10.) write & perform a song

11.) grow some vegetables

easy vegetables to grow, like.

12.) get a real christmas tree at christmas

13.) go to Japan

this will be a testament, Japan’s been on the bucket list for years

14.) learn to cook more new dishes than i  have ever done before

15.) do something I’m afraid of doing

16.) ride my bike more

17.) live in a world that loves all people

we should all aim for this

18.) budget

lol

19.) have fun without technology  

20.) take nothing for granted 

21.) try and stop feeling like i’m running out of time

22.) take more 35mm film photos

23.) do more for charities and help people more

24.) People

The most important aspect of out lives are perhaps the people around us. My goal is to stay in touch with family and old friends, and to constantly strengthen the bridges built over time.

25.) finally update my damn website

26.) see more sunrises and sunsets

27.) remember that what matters most is how well you walk through the fire

28.) pay my bills & debts on time

lol

29.) laugh at the odds 

**(+ bonus which doesn’t need to be said but: 30.) Enjoy my PhD)**

Happy New Year friends

cl98k7nwgaaz1hr

Processed with VSCO with c2 preset

Processed with VSCO with c2 preset

A long view of time can replenish our sense of ourselves and the world.

A long view of time can replenish our sense of ourselves and the world.

I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. Every so often when campers know I’ve been pretty poorly over the past few years, they ask me how everything is. I reply with that it’s the most “normal” I’ve felt in 3-4 years.
But it got me thinking: on Returning to Normalcy … What Does that Even Mean?
The last time i worked at Sandy Island, properly, My life was in a state of mental whiplash and I barely even realized it. In barely a few years I’ve gone from being in a death spiral to staying up super late drinking wine with friends, climbing icelandic waterfalls, running for late buses. I went from planning out my funeral to doing radiation oncology and beginning to start a PhD. I’ve gone from thinking I’d never step foot at Sandy Island again, to working my longest summer contract here.
But it’s taken me to get to this summer to look back to see just how far I have come, compared to even just last year. Even in January this year. Even April.
Before going further I have to share how profoundly grateful I am to everyone. I can’t even write these words without gushing tears.
So the thought of a return to normalcy is like a warm embrace: to feel like the last few years were a mere aberration that has been rectified. I can’t explain the joy I got when my brain could feel bored and my body wanted to live again. I have about 4–6 hours a day that feel like they did before. The thought of getting to blend my social passions with community and art and social change immediately sets me to problem solving and creating again. Or the thought of unlocking a new meaningful lifestyle that I can plan for has me losing sleep piecing it together while I should be sleeping. I tweeted the other day that I’m already overwhelmed by the projects I’d like to work on now. It made me so happy to tweet it, to feel like I could be back to normal.
But how can I expect life to be normal? I’m still on a small doses of medications to help with everything from pain, to swelling, to hormone balances, to immune function stuff. As much as a return to normalcy seems the obvious goal, I’m definitely not normal now – so much pain & fatigue, still, and it just hit me I have no idea what was so great about normalcy before.
Being in the USA, seeing friends, being at Sandy Island with friends (staff and campers) has been incredible because these friends are all hard chargers, both professionally and personally. They’re exciting to be around because they are making the most of all parts of their lives and doing so thoughtfully. One of them asked what the projects were I was referencing in my above tweet, and in full imposter syndrome mode I stumbled at trying to explain what I was going to professionally do.
I constantly share that my biggest life insight is that while you have the time, optimize on the meaning you find in life.

In some rush towards normalcy and wanting to make the most of said normalcy, I find myself leaping to my old life – a life where I didn’t see my family, I made excuses not to see friends so I could just work or do less meaningful things. I told myself that I was going to do loads of things at Sandy this year, and I didn’t – as much as I wanted to. I should have spent more nights with Julz and Katy. I should have visited Anya more. I should have drank with Chris more. So many shoulda-woulda-coulda’s. Instead, I spent a lot of time trying to catch up with online stuff (such slow, at times non-existent, wifi). I spent quite a bit of time in bed – fatigue. I spent time that I have no idea where I spent the time?!
So there, Sandy Island: I‘ve been racing to get back to normalcy, racing to shed my death shroud, and I’m on the verge of disrespecting what I’ve been living through just to feel “normal.”
What is so great about normal?. Many of the years of trying to work as a freelance artist were financially crippling. The past years working freelance and undertaking clinical placement whilst feeling ill were exhausting.
Am I sick or am I better? Is a return to normalcy my goal or my loss? How can I maintain this profound sense of gratefulness for life, if I queue up in the same old lines?
Is my death shroud an exoskeleton I can to pull myself out of, instead of dragging it along?
This summer has given me the time to reflect upon this, and think out what’s next, and Sandy Island people are helping me figure this new chapter out, and reminding me just how lucky I am. I’ve never felt so loved in my life; and I am so grateful to be.
Special friends have showed me just how normal love looks. It’s not always a mad-dash to the airport, it can just be a heartfelt hug for you feeling better. It can be an incredible gift like a personalised book full of love and wisdom to help guide you when you’re not super sure what’s next. It could be a cool turtle dove as a reference to your most favourite movie ever (friends for ever — home alone 2!).
The gratitude i feel for all of this is completely over-whelming.
A pilgrim is said to carry all their back-path with them as they move forward. It is the back-path that brought us to where we are now. Without it, we cannot enter the path that lays in front of us.

So i’ve been asking myself: Can I make a future of the unknown and still be myself? Can I ever return to normal? And why do I want to?
Thanks for reading this far if you have.

Much love always, your friend – smizz x

13909309_10154215791566508_1529846474189984075_o.jpg

learning to lean in

Words are  often a poor substitute for imagery.

One of my Doctors: “So Sarah, why do you want to work in healthcare – even though you’re an artist?”

I spoke about my own experiences & the opportunity artistic practice can offer to enhance care and services – the ability to use a different perspective to make a difference.

He turned to me expressed his heartfelt regrets and said: “Art gives you, like flying, something that other people don’t have.”

It was as if he was saying, what you lack in a functional immune system, you make up for in other unique ways.

And with this, a few days ago I found out that I passed my radiotherapy & oncology BSc Hons degree with a 92.6% First-class degree!!!

I have a fully-funded PhD scholarship offer bringing together 2 of my passions together (art & healthcare) that starts in October, and I leave for the U.S.A in 5 days times for a good couple of months. I genuinely can-not-believe it!!

Not too shabby for the working class kid with no science background or previous healthcare working experience.

I am humbled, and most of all feeling extremely privileged to have shared this crazy journey with you all. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it to this day, in all kinds of ways, and for this reason this achievement feels incredibly important and special.

For a long time, I had made who I was by being a work-horse. I could totally juggle 8 things at once. I could totally stay up til 3am in the morning working on hopeful-kick-ass projects/ideas/gigs – and then get up at like 9/10am the next day — no questions about it.  My mind constantly buzzed with all the cool things we could do. I’d sleep with a notebook and jot down cool ideas in the middle of the night. If you needed something doing – I was the person! But Nothing prepares you for the day when you can’t do what you do any more.

I didn’t feel like myself. I felt broken. I loathed who I had become.

There I was, hopeless – barely there. Not feeling alive.

I cried. I felt sorry for myself. I didn’t believe it was happening to me.

I’ve spent the last couple of years searching for the Old (younger) Smizz. I’ve looked for her all over  —But there’s no going back to my old life.

I am broken. There’s no protocols or discharge instructions to guide people back to their lives.

But I am alive.

I do think about that a lot.

 

This degree course allowed me to gain some control, it gave me some much needed (if not too much) structure and helped me to try & hopefully make a difference. After all, what is the point of saving a life if the life isn’t a meaningful one?

And the friends I’ve met whilst doing it – all with their own personal stories – have helped to inspire, and alongside all my other friends, they’ve helped me to carve this new path for myself.

It highlights the fact that I’ve never actually accomplished a single meaningful thing by myself, and this is included.

The past few years has taught me that reading the fine print of your mortality is a great sifter of rubbish.

In the chase for the extraordinary we can sometimes forget to embrace the ordinary moments. It’s about embracing our vulnerabilities and learning to ask for help. We also need to invest in others without expecting returns – because that’s real love.

And it’s about realizing that your time is valuable — what you do with it, how you spend it and with whom.

 

It’s picking yourself up when life knocks you down and finding beauty in your bruises. But this might take years and years to do, it’s not an overnight fix. We are all damaged & broken & traumatized & mistake making in some way or another. But it doesn’t define who we are. So don’t be so hard on yourself. And Don’t be so hard on others.

3 years ago, I literally couldn’t get out of bed. Today marks a HUGE milestone for me. I got out of bed each placement morning (1000’s of hours of free labour) (i wasn’t happy about it lol), I ground myself down, I gritted my teeth and pushed through most of the fatigue & pain, and some how completed 3 years clinical education. Super early mornings, physical lifting, lots of moving, emotional distress, stress, deadline after deadline, many naps where ever I could find them, doritos and a 2 year long headache. And somehow I got here.

Whilst I still live in deep pain, and still haven’t learnt my fatigue limits, and I’ve lost feeling all on my left side, and a headache that often leaves me crippled to the floor. I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Recovery is hard. I don’t think we give enough people credit for that part.

I Never, genuinely – hand on heart –  would have believed any of this would have been possible.

So thank you to YOU ALL.  My mom, my bro, my nan, my amazing friends – old & new, stafff, lecturers, my twitter fam, my internet friends. Anyone and everyone.
Without your advise, support, jokes, cleaning, food, tears, stories, knowledge and just being there and accepting I take 7-10 business days to return a text/email – I’m not so sure this would be the blog update it is today.

I plan on using all of my time allocated.

And I can’t believe I’m here.

13320519_10154041065631508_7429482640041572543_o.jpg

13317015_10154058284426508_957648983160443094_o.jpg12141096_10153360318613375_7064953595367521226_o.jpg12370664_10153651239561508_5429585895926538300_o.jpg13308422_10154058195236508_4836840088406079601_o.jpg

 

The things I’ve learned from a broken mirror

Saving a life doesn’t change the world, but for that person, the world changes forever.

I’m right at the bittersweet end of my 3 years of  BSc Hons radiation-oncology school training. Assuming I pass the last few things, in 3 weeks I’ll be technically allowed, once my HCPC registration and license and indemnity insurance comes through, to plan, care for and treat people who have cancer with radiotherapy. Which is really scary. I will be responsible and liable by law for the safety of my patients.

And yet, the 3 years has gone past in a whirl-wind. It has been both long (no thanks to working clinically all through the summers) and extremely fast. Energizing and completely ball-breakingly fatiguing. A mixture of: I’m not ready to be qualified yet to I just want to do the job, already! Slowly ticking off endless assignment after endless assignment. Slowly being able to reflect upon how far we have come.

And now I write this post. With a cool raspberry lemonade in one hand, I stare out of the window with the sun in my eyes and feel kind of relaxed for the first time in a long time.

Doing this course was a massive risk for me.

I had nothing and everything to loose.

Here’s what I’ve learnt:

A few years ago (y’all know the story), my original life had become broken by ill-health and everything changed.  No one should ever underestimate the lack of quality of life living with horrible, endless, chronic pain and fatigue offers.  And as a result, my old life just didn’t fit in the same way anymore. So, after drawing people wanting to change the NHS to make it better using their health experiences, and this personal medical experience of mine – I decided to give up my planned life of being a full-time artist and retrain in healthcare (with the perspective of an artist). This was because I needed to get closure, to understand the human-body, to gain some control from this knowledge, and a routine – to try and ease the fatigue (that turned out to be a LOL – there’s no rest in healthcare): but most of all, my biggest motivator was  to try and make a difference and really care for others.

This was because the NHS was the first place I had been shown any real true kindness  from complete strangers when I was at my most weakest. I felt (& I feel it even more now than ever) this pit of gratitude at the bottom of my stomach when I think about the care I have been given & continue to receive – from everyone in the NHS, not just doctors & HCP but to the students, receptionists and porters, ect.

From my GP (the awesome Dr. Marco Pieri) who would say we’re friends. And in the beginning, I thought that saying we were friends was weird.  I was suspicious. It’s just his job? I knew nothing about him.  But as I grew older with him, and cried on him when I was at my lowest (i don’t ever cry in front of people), and moaned, and repeated the same endless complaints at him -much to his dismay – he built up this incredible knowledge about me as a person – not just what was wrong with me. He asks me about my work, my life in general and about my fears. He asks me what I want to do in regards to my care and he gives me lil’ prep talks (even unsolicited NHS job interview advise) by telling me to keep going and just to live life to the fullest (fo’ serious). He was one of the first people I told (by chance) that I got this awesome fully-funded PhD scholarship. He stopped me from jumping around from random GP to GP, because I didn’t understand the importance of continuity in care at the time. I feel like he intrinsically cares – not just for my wellbeing – but for the whole population of Doncaster after discussions with him on his passion for improving life expectancy & outcomes for the Donx to meet the rest of the population (thus his role as a clinical lead in the Doncaster CCG).

It turns out that he is in fact both Physician and detective, and through time, he also became both healer & friend. And through experiencing a lot of his kindness, his humor, his knowledge, his time & care – I felt like I needed to return it.  I wanted to be that person he was for me – for my patients; to make them feel cared for and valued. To not feel insignificant when you’re at your most vulnerable.

What I’ve learnt is that patients have been my best teachers, but some of my lessons have been painful.

I  have learnt from their  incredibly life affirming stories of hope, humor, achievement and tragedy and heartbreak. There was a woman whose volunteer hospital transport driver turned out to be her long-lost niece – found and reunited together through daily drives to & from radiotherapy treatment. I’ve treated gold-medal winners from the Olympics 50 years ago, pilots, magazine publishers. I’ve seen people go home and back with nothing but the clothes on their back- for 7 weeks, heard stories of amazing neighbours and learnt a lot about people’s pets. I’ve heard horrific stories that just needed to be told and heard – of death, loss, and abuse. Every day is a day where I take at least someone home in my head. Some fade away, eventually. Though 3 years on – there’s some patients who are etched onto my mind and I don’t know why some really stay with you.  I stopped checking up on them post-treatment because quite a few have died since- and it makes me feel incredibly sad. These people who we often just shared 2 or 3 weeks together at 10 mins + at a time become significant to me. And  I hope I never loose this into qualification.

 

It will be weird not being with #teamleeds, every day; My friends who we’ve gone through and seen a lot together. These stories bound us together. They’re like brothers and sisters now. I imagine this is kind of how joining the army feels, but instead it’s a healthcare course.  It will be weird not joining in on a random Facebook conversation, not having to panic about the endless deadlines and  unclear learning objectives. My closest friends (most of them younger than me) on the course have taught me a lot about growing up. I’ve managed to have a second ‘coming of age’ experience through being good friends in their journey. We’ve travelled when we could together, hosted parties and feasts of food. Shared and supported each other through tragedies, deadlines, successes and the crazy profound things life throws at you. I am completely in awe of these now 21 year olds who are mature before their years. And I think about how their strength is true testament to how I’ve managed to get here – 3 years on. At the beginning of the course, we said that we would drag each other through to the very bittersweet end. And here we are, 3 weeks to go, still dragging each other. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for them, egging us on.

Then there is the staff at the place where I’ve trained, they have been incredible. They’re passionate about education and patient care and safety. They love radiotherapy. They’ve shown me time, enthusiasm and exactly what being a compassionate healthcare professional should look like. I’ve learnt how to ask questions, without being too leading. I’ve learnt to hear for things not actually said, but implied, by patients so that I know if they need more extra support. I feel incredibly indebted to them for their knowledge and time (and patience!). I hope that we stay friends at the end because they’re such great fun people. And I can’t thank my tutors enough for all of their guidance and knowledge in helping me shape me as a healthcare professional!

What I’ve learnt in my Healthcare education (both officially and as a patient) is that everyone in the NHS has a reason to do what they do: It’s almost never about money or our quality of life. It’s because we can make a difference. All any of us ever want to do is to make other people’s lives better. Sometimes it’s life-changing, sometimes it’s something much simpler.

Sometimes things don’t work the way we should. The system isn’t perfect. Neither are the people in it. But it is fundamentally decent and good and whole. That’s why I am absolutely committed to the principles, to the ideals of the NHS. I think it’s just about the best thing this country has ever achieved. It is remarkably robust, but the pressures facing it are immense, and there are few easy solutions. But we – the people of the NHS – ALL STAFF- are absolutely committed to it.

What I’ll always remember from my education in radiotherapy – and that crazy 3 years of unpaid labour – will be the stories that made these people into NHS.

Being a radiotherapy student has given me a lot of perspective and new skills I never knew I could do.  I’Ve learnt that whenever you can’t think of something to say in a conversation, ask people questions instead. Even if you’re next to a man who collects pre-Seventies screws and bolts, you will probably never have another opportunity to find out so much about pre-Seventies screws and bolts, and you never know when it will be useful.

Life divides into AMAZING ENJOYABLE TIMES and APPALLING EXPERIENCES THAT WILL MAKE FUTURE AMAZING ANECDOTES.

And life can be incredibly short. So see as many sunrises and sunsets as you can. Run across roads to smell fat roses. Always believe you can change the world – even if it’s only a tiny bit, because every tiny bit needed someone who changed it. Think of yourself as a silver rocket – use loud music as your fuel; books like maps and co-ordinates for how to get there. Host extravagantly, love constantly, dance in comfortable shoes,  and never, ever start smoking.

Thank you to the whole of the NHS for your love, and kindness, and education. It turns out studying Radiotherapy turned out to be WAY more than just a degree at the end. 

I have learnt, through pain,  that I am more than my pain, more than what was built & burned, more than all I’ve lost. You will get to build again. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to share this adventure with the people who’ve helped you.   Remember it ain’t always about where you start, but it’s about where you’re going and end up.

To the last 3 weeks!

13012868_1156401094378821_8448868135841666435_n.jpg0-4.jpg

0-5.jpg *Hope I pass!*

 

 

“It’s called a hustle, sweetheart.” The resolutely difficult advice to follow.

To celebrate getting a PhD scholarship, I did what any normal adult would do. I went straight to the movies (one of my favourite things to do) and went to see Zootopia (or Zootropolis as it’s called in the UK).  YOLO.

During the movie, it became clear why I had been patiently awaiting the release of this movie.

The film takes place in the vibrant, diverse world of Zootopia, a place where predators and prey live together in harmony, and are free to be whoever and whatever they want to be. These reasons are precisely why the land attracts Judy Hopps, a small bunny with dreams of being a police officer. Living on a farm, her parents fear this because, not only has a bunny never become a police officer, but they feel Judy should confine her aspirations to selling carrots on the family farm because that’s what is expected of her by society, something Judy has no interest in doing.

After successfully – but through hardship – completing police training, Judy is thrust into the force alongside other, more muscled animals such as rhinoceroses, rams, bulls, and elephants. Oh my.

Judy’s boss, Chief Bogo , a buffalo, forces her to be a “metermaid” while the other animals take on the bigger crimes, specifically a case involving fourteen missing predators. Judy tries to show herself by issuing over two-hundred citations in just a couple of hours, but to no avail, as Chief Bogo wants to make sure she knows her place on the Zootopia police force. When Judy winds up catching a weasel after robbing a store, she is just about to be fired when Chief Bogo tasks her with finding a local otter who has been missing for over a week. If she can find the otter in forty-eight hours or less, she can keep her job, but if she doesn’t, she’ll be forced to resign. Judy enlists in the help of Nick Wilde, a fox, one of the most looked-down-upon predators in Zootopia, who has been doing number of odd jobs since he was young, after blackmailing him in order to get him to cooperate. Together, the two work to find the otter, but in turn, discover something bigger. Oh my.

As you can probably tell, this is a film about both racism and sexism and underlying that – social-class (my favourite chip-on-my shoulder)  & how fear creates hate. Screenwriters Jared Bush and Paul Johnston carefully construct a world, predicated upon a particular dream, and within that world, populate it with a variety of characters, some labeled as normative, others quietly labeled as the enemy that many are waiting to step out of line. Bush and Johnston pen Zootopia carefully, but bluntly, to the point where you can’t ignore its profound, but simple message of inclusion and acceptance of peers. Oh my.

But on top of this, is the message about not giving up on your dreams, pushing boundaries and always attempting – no matter how hard it seems – to make the world a better place, no matter how small that thing is. Don’t let society dictate to you what they think you should be doing, if that’s what you really want. Always fight against the status quo.

I love movies with messages like this. Like Eddie The Eagle, who constantly shows us – it’s not about the triumph in life, it’s about the struggle. It’s about doing what you love, and not giving up in the face of immense adversity. Eddie The Eagle is another movie that shows the  working class character (based on truth this time) stick 2 fingers up (metaphorically, through determination) at the elitism of Great Britain Olympics Committee and whilst doesn’t win any medals, he wins a place in our hearts because he amplifies what it means to keep going.

Part of me sees my life narrative reflected in these hollywood-poetic license stories.  I think sometimes people think I’m exaggerating what I’ve been through in my life. From homelessness, domestic violence, i’ve had to be a carer, i’ve done some amazing travel, endured crazy poverty, the amount of jobs i’ve had to work to make ends meet or to do what others just naturally have the opportunity to do, life-altering (chronic) illness, terrible accidents (mostly on bike), fires, ect, ect. It’s all true. The good shadows the bad, but the bad has been pretty horrific – and I know many people from my background are enduring much worse. And society allows for this to happen, or to continue the unfairness that propels it further, or makes it difficult to get out of.

It gives me this weird -bittersweet – perspective of the world. I have my weight in empathy and in understanding how exploited and unfair and socially unjust our society is & how all the structures are generated to helping middle class and beyond people success, whilst discriminate those with less and working-class & below..  I think this kind of understanding probably only becomes so cemented when you experience life from the other side. Or see how your friends on the other side live.

I’m grateful to be alive,  I’m blessed to have all my friends, I’m just so lucky to have had the opportunities I’ve had and to follow what I love (art) & people pay me to do it for them & for the support I’ve had along the way & currently on this journey. I’ve visited many countries now because my university education allowed me a passport to see the world and work in different cultures.

 And literally, 17 year old smizz, or even current Smizz,  would never ever, ever, ever really  would believe i’d be here.

I’ve always felt a bit kind of behind everyone else, you know – in everything – art, radiotherapy, academia, life. Like a bit of an outsider, and a bit stupid. I’ve always had this chip-on my shoulder about the background I’ve come from & everything I’ve had to do to get where I am compared to a lot of my friends and peers. That i’m not as articulate, as likeable & as quick as others,  and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to compete. The world loves talent – but pays in character. And I kind of have neither.

And so it felt fitting, to celebrate my next chapter watching Zootopia. And Eddie the Eagle.  It reminds me that to “succeed”, we have to take risks.

We have to take bold leaps and move forward, brave and scared shitless at the same time. We will undoubtedly fall flat on our face. It happens. But we learn, make adjustments and not fall as hard or as far the next time.

But when we fail to trust ourselves to take that leap in the first place—that’s the real problem. It becomes an excuse to indulge our fear: to believe that we are not in fact talented or worthy enough— to believe that our crappy yet comfortable circumstances should win. This particular lack of momentum is called “Business As Usual” and it can continually crush our plans for greatness.

We don’t fail by falling. We only fail when we stop taking the leap. The idea is from Rumi’s observation, “Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it?
They fall and falling, they’re given wings.”

Keep going. Keep jumping, keep falling. Don’t let others, or society imply, what you should be doing and how to do it.

I’ll try and remember this too.

Screen Shot 2015-02-07 at 01.55.34

Today, I discovered that I’ve forgotten my path, maybe even who I am.

“If you change the way you look at things, the things that you look at change.” — Max Planck

I’ve written about it endlessly before, but I feel like I’m living a new – unexpected – even unwanted version – of my life. i’ve endured years and years of being in pain, delibertating symptoms and fatigue that made it so my old life didn’t fit the way it used to. My old life – and still does when I get close to mirroring it – drove me into the ground.

I love art. I love it with every fiber of my being. It was the thing that kept me awake all night, and i worked and worked and worked on this pure love of mine. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t really money viable – it didn’t matter that I kept 3 part-time jobs down as I jugged residencies and commissions, and writing endless proposals that would mostly get rejected. I loved it. I loved the potential for it to connect people, and ideas, and potentially make a change. Make a difference. I could never see a future for myself where art wasn’t in it. It’s still the thing that helped me keep a part of my self through the big change.

Unfortunately this tidal wave came begging to tear down my dawn, and made me struggle against it, made me choke on salt water. And it changed how i saw the world. I took a bit of a different direction — but I told myself, it would be with art too. But it was hard to see a future when I wasn’t sure if I was going to have one.

Trying to be arty and creative in healthcare is hardwork. Some people are suspicious of your enthusiasm, suspicious of your motivation – they don’t really understand you. Some people just don’t get it. Some people are amazingly visionary and creative and risk-taking too – and super supportive which excites me and I’m endlessly grateful for these people. But it’s hard. And my personal-art practice took a bit of a backseat in my eagerness to better the patient pathway.

I’ve been writing a proposal — another one that will probably be rejected – in true art form – but it’s reminded me of my old life again. Writing pretentiously yet beautifully philosophical sentences feels good for my soul. Writing emotively instead of just cold-facts – blunt, how do science people do it all the time?  I can slowly feel the warmth coming back into my fingers and heart. I can feel parts of my brain working in a way that I’ve missed.

Conceptions of the body are not only central to medical anthropology, but also to the philosophical underpinnings of Being. Western assumptions about the mind and body, and the individual and society, affect both theoretical viewpoints and research paradigms. These same conceptions also influence ways in which health care is research and delivered in Western societies.

Foucault (1972, 1977, 1980, 1988) stated in his writings on biopower that medical technologies frame and focus healthcare professionals’ optical grasp of the patient, with the ‘medical gaze’ that abstracts the suffering person from her sociological context and reframes her as a “case” or a “condition”. Patients are seen as the voiceless, lost in a system that reduces them to their diagnoses, or not even that making the experience even worse, and often fails to understand their suffering. This is exemplified through my own experiences and was exactly the reason why  I – the artist and experiencer – needed to change things.

Clinical biomedicine is the product of a Western epistemology. Healthcare professionals often struggle to view humans and the experience of illness and suffering from an integrated perspective, they often find themselves trapped by the Cartesian legacy. This lacks a precise vocabulary with which to deal with mind-body-society interactions, resulting in the disconnectedness of care throughout a patients’ pathway and beyond.

In writing this, I realised just how disconnected I had become from my own art practice — the person I was – and my experiences. I had to go through archives of old websites to remind myself on what I did in my art years for this application; the time before I fell sick, before I committed most of my energy to healthcare. It just seems like a distant memory now. And I was shocked.

resume2011drawing

It was like in a movie when someone discovered old, worn-yellowed newspapers of events they couldn’t believe happened.  Here existed an amazing list of my achievements, that I had forgotten all about. The pain had erased them. Struggling to survive, and get through each day had taken its toll upon me. I had literally forgotten what had made me who I am.  The crazy thing is, I struggled and worked so hard to achieve all of this. And it had disappeared as quickly as my old life had been taken. What amazed me more was how this was pre-bucketlist. I have since, began to tick a few of my other goals of my past life off, unknowingly. And I have achieved a bunch of stuff that became more important. (It’s als important to note – i’ve been drawing loads & getting paid as an artist/illustrator – it’s just not the same stuff)

But as my radiotherapy studying chapter is coming to a close, I’m starting to feel the eagerness to reconnect with my old life – despite still having all the issues that made me change my life direction in the first place. And it’s confusing.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” — Joseph Campbell.

I let go of the life I had planned, but the life that is waiting for me is unclear. I’m unsure what to do, where to go next. Healthcare doesn’t fully accept me for me, but art doesn’t either. It has so much commodity and rewards so much self-absorbed-ness . Life is precious and there’s suffering – which art can help aid – but the Artworld doesn’t understand what I’ve been through, and felt, and why healthcare needs to be changed so others don’t have that experience.

But who will accept me? And why have I written this? Well, if finding my old resumes and pieces of my old life dotted around like dusty digital footprints has taught me anything today – is that we should be archiving our lives, our work, just incase we do forget what we’ve done. If we forget who we are, or who we were.

And I also know that there’s people like me out there. This here serves as a reminder for future Smizz – who will probably be doing something else completely insane – like a career in maths or something else I can’t do. And for anyone else going through a hard time.

You gotta swim, swim for the music that saves you when you’re not so sure you’ll survive. And swim when it hurts. The whole world is watching – and you’ve haven’t come this far to fall off the earth. Currents will pull you away from your love – just keep our heads above the water. Memories are like bullets and fire at you from a gun. We all get cracks in our armour – but don’t give in. Sometimes the nights won’t end. But you gotta swim for your families, your sisters, your brothers, your friends. You gotta get past wars without cause, past the lost politicians who don’t see their greed as a flaw. You gotta swim in the dark, there’s no shame in drifting, feel the tide shifting away from the spark. You gotta swim, don’t let yourself sink – you’ll find the horizon, please believe me – I promise you it’s not as far away as you think.

The current’s will always try and drag you away from your love- just keep your head above the water and swim.

Art is part of my being. It’s what makes me tick. It’s what makes me feel truly happy. But I also know I can’t let inequalities, and issues that exist that I know can be fixed – happen without any input.

So even though I had forgotten 80% of my art life. I’m going to put it down to trauma. I don’t necessarily think people are born as artists, but they certainly die as artists. I’m always going to be an artist – even if I lose my footing a bit. And I look forward to building more goals to combine art and suffering into better change.

I never want to forget who I am again.

 

 

Hoping for a 2016 where we open the doors wider and take care of each another

0-1

I am hoping for 2016 to be a year where we open the doors wider and take care of each another

Susan Sontag wrote in her “Illness as metaphor” (1978) essay ,

“Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. “

I’ve found myself asking myself, “Smizz, how do you get from here to there? ” I’ve spent the last few years trying to find my way back to the kingdom of the well. 2015 was all about screwing up maps, getting really, really lost. Like I’ve been using Bing maps instead of google maps.  I feel like my good-healthy passport needs renewing.

I get good days, even weeks, only to be knocked down by by more complications, more intense symptoms.  Life wasn’t going my way, but that’s something I’ve been learning to get used to and it happens to us all. I definitely cope better now,  but what I can’t get used to is the feeling of being broken.

And what’s scary is that most of this is happening to us all, in some shape or form: depression, low-self-esteem, a loved one being sick, unemployment, abuse, bullying, war. ect. At some point, we all loose our footing. And in the wake of trauma, sure footing can be hard to find.

When all this started, and I thought I was going to loose my life,  I was full of regret.

I had a good life –  But  why did I spend so much time on Facebook ? There was so much more I wanted to do, places I was worried I was never going to see. I always wanted to have a border collie puppy. I always wanted to own an american fridge with an ice maker (not sure why, I don’t even like ice in my drinks). But here i was thinking I’d never have any of that. And what about my artwork, my art-life? I had dedicated nearly 7 years of my life to what I was doing. And I had left it behind, without saying a word to most people except close friends.

I wrote a will. I settled my affairs – they told me to. And i was terrified because I’m an artist – and i was seeing a future where if I go blind, I might not get to do my work anymore.
But I’m alive. I’m alive! And I’ve learnt that there’s a big difference between surviving and living.

 

So in 2013, I was slumped over with fatigue. I barely got out of bed. But what I do realized then was that I couldn’t just keep living my same old life anymore because it just didn’t fit anymore. The stakes had changed. My life view was flipped. All that stuff i thought was important, turned out not to be that important.

In 5 months time, I HOPEFULLY will be a qualified radiotherapist.  I’ve spent the past 2 years being pulled through my course by my amazing friends and family whilst managing horrible, horrible side-effects/symptoms?.  I will be qualified to deliver radiotherapy treatments, create treatment plans,  innovate and care  for my patients and their carers going through the cancer pathway.  And I’m super excited and shit-scared. I took on this course for a number of reasons: One was to help me cope & have some understanding of the human body, and genetics and control, 2 was to give back to the NHS and to emulate the great care I was given & to irradicate the poor care I saw too. But ultimately it was to help make the difference I want to see, to make the pathway better for others. To enhance and help empower patients and their carers narratives. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learnt is when you’re sick – you feel vulnerable and voiceless.

And at first, this change was really, really hard. I’ve questioned my decision maybe a 1000 times. But it still feels right, even when I have to do 100 pointless academic tasks and I miss having free days to make and draw things I want to make.  But together with my friends we organized the (2014 & 2015) first student led Raditation oncology conference, I made the first radiotherapy patient information app, got a drawing published in journal of medical imaging and radiation sciences, won an award for my app, and presented at the international  Design4health conference, did some clinical experience in North America,  and went viral with this blog post about what we do in radiotherapy,  raised £850 for Doncaster Cancer Detection Trust and some more. All through combining art and radiation practice and empathy. All in 2015.

If you asked me 5 years ago if I saw myself here – the answer would have been – what’s radiotherapy? And errr nO?! If you asked me at the beginning of my course if I would be in 3rd year now, I wouldn’t have been so sure. But now here i am, trying to adapt healthcare research with creative methodologies.

l’ve experienced chronic pain and fatigue. I realized how debilitating it can be, and how rarely we take the time to understand it in others.  But this lesson is still being learnt. The experience is humbling and, more than anything, made me much more aware of – and empathetic to – the hurt that we ignore.

This, in particular, is my motivation going into 2016. My resolution (although I hate the word “resolution”; it sounds flimsy and self-obsessed) is to take more time recognizing the pain in others and offering solace whenever possible. I aim to keep the dialogue open with all of you, whether online or in-person. I want us to be open, and warm, even in the face of the unknown. Always believe you can change the world – even if it’s only a tiny bit, because every tiny bit needed someone who changed it – and one person CAN change the world.

2016 maybe full of joy for you. It maybe full of challenges. It’ll probably be full of both. However it all plays out, remember that we have each other. Don’t wait to be asked for help; you’re already being beckoned.

I started 2015 feeling lost in transition, the pain was really, really grinding me down. I cried like twice on clinical placement because I felt behind & that I’ve got a lot to loose, I gave up my art life. There’s no roadmap to picking up the pieces of a broken life.  So I’ve been drawing my own roadmap, and somewhere along the way, I’ve started to feel like I’m living again with the help of all of YOU – my friends.  I’ve visited 5 new countries this year. I chased the Northern Lights with my friends, we rode under Niagra Falls, we drank thrugh the worst icelandic storm of 30 years. And as I  have watched the ocean many times this year, it reminded that the suns set, but it will  rise again and everything keeps moving. But we don’t get forever. And that’s ok. We just have to make sure the stuff that counts, really fucking counts.

 

I hope that 2016 will hopefully bring me some more closure, and I’m hoping for less headahce, much less fatigue, more adventures, taking more photographs, seeing friends, better email action, laughter, fun, love and hope. And finishing & passing my degree without a nervous breakdown (lol) . And hopefully a job offer, if I’m lucky. You never know what the road has planned though.

Happy New Year friends,

With so much gratitude for you for getting me here

Unconditional love, lets make the world a better place in 2016!

Your good friend Smizz x

0-2

 

Time: Before I’m Gone

Time.

Time fascinates me no end. I’ve read a lot of theories about time.

Can you remember when the 6 week summer holidays used to feel so long and hazy and hot? And now, before you know it, it’s already summer when it was only just Christmas. And you’re left thinking? Whoa, time!?

I just read a book called Time Warped by Claudia Hammond, which talks at length about how we perceive time. One of her arguments is that as we get older, we have fewer meaningful experiences. We fall into a routine of sorts and life becomes less memorable, which makes our perception of time feel like it’s speeding up as we age. It’s kind of a sad idea. But it does put things into perspective. We should be doing more things that are memorable! YOLO.

Another theory, by Paul Janet, is that we perceive time as relative to the ‘absolute’ time that we can compare it to. For example, when you’re born a day will feel MEGA long because it is literally ALL of your life. By the time your 50, a year will be 1 50th of your life. So that could explain why summer holidays felt longer than they do now, and waiting around fro christmas felt like a small lifetime. Because in time-terms – it was.

I’m not too sure on the latter explanation, as last summer when I was trying to learn the ropes of clinical radiation oncology and juggle the worst headache – the weeks felt long. Oh so very long. Now I know what I’m doing more, this summer has flown by. The years do feel shorter though and so I believe that time is a combination of both of those theories.

Money and time are both saved and spent. The more money that’s in the market, the less it becomes worth. Similarly, when you become aware of your time – and if you think it’s running out – or becoming shorter – the more worth it seems the accumulate. However, money can be circulated, you can get it back by many means, but time is fully-spent. Once time is gone, you can never get it back.

Death is always a surprise. No one expects it. We are never ready. It is never the right time. By the time it comes, you won’t have done all the things you wanted and should have done.

Sometimes I feel like I’m cheating time. I’ve been run over, fallen from buildings, been in a fire, and more. When I fell sick – I genuinely thought my time was coming to an end. I have days and weeks where I believe I’m going to live many years into old, old age. And then I have some days where I feel so poorly, and have the weirdest shit happen to me that I wonder if I’ll be here next year.

And then I have days – like yesterday – where you get a text in the middle of the train station and it literally takes away your breath and makes you forget how to breath.  I didn’t know what to do with myself. It makes you realize we care too much about things that don’t matter much. I’ve preached this before and often. Because when I’m in my everyday cycle – where I feel ok. The weight of mortality – that painful reminder – isn’t as ever present compared to when I’m in great pain.

Now I’m suddenly feeling this sense of urgency, again. For everything. Especially to spend more time with my mom & my nan & my bro, and my friends, and the world; to try and see them sooner rather than later.  And to correct all the wrong doings I’ve done (just stupid teenager-y stuff) It’s a lesson I keep on trying not to forget (and sometimes I do, and that’s bad).

All this has made me think, it’s not so much that we have so little time; it’s that we have so little awareness of time itself.

So I’m preparing to leave things in a way that if anything does happen to me – sooner rather than later, I have left my mark – I’ve left a trail – of something. I’m going to write blog-posts – letters – cards – emails. Sporadically. Thanking, forgiving, offering, planning, helping, laughing, grieving, making up for lost time and maybe even cheating time in the process.

As my nan says, “It all feels the same,”. Let’s not get caught up in meaninglessness. And let’s enjoy every second we get – together.

To the importance of time & what gives it weight.

Much Love, SMIZZ

What being an artist, trying to learn how to code & feeling like I’m dying has taught me.

It’s kind of exciting not really fitting into pigeon holes. They say I’m a Smizz of all trades, master of none. I’m currently designing and coding an app in my (limited) spare time, which I hope will help to aid patients in having a better patient-centered-care experience. The app hopes to include all the information for their treatment, and later on become interactive- enabling the patient to get the support they really need (financial, emotional, physical, ect) by using a series of questions over a period of time, and documenting how they’re coping/feeling/side-effects, ect. It’s exciting stuff. But learning coding for this is a steep learning curve.

As an intermediate dabbler in website designing and coding, and now embarking on objective-C and swift codes I am no stranger to being able to take a problem and see the inevitable solutions, but also I’m pretty skilled now in being able to hypotheize the potential for disaster – what problems could I run into using a certain code with another, or ethically, or in language, ect. We use this kind of thinking in Healthcare too. It’s figuring out what our best practice is by eliminating all the problems for optimal experience and outcomes. In art, we use these problems too, to breakdown into manageable truths. As a Marxist, I’ve naturally developed a somewhat cynical ability to breakdown systems really easily into oppressive segregations & loopholes  & weaknesses.

But thinking like this naturally, or often, comes with its consequences. Your every day problems become disastrous in your mind. I catch myself getting caught up in this mind-set – Unanswered phone calls become bad-news,  someone being late becomes a car accident, late arrivals due to delayed trains and buses become missed opportunities. Being poorly and not doing as much as I used to became career stagnation.  The omnipresent of ‘but-what-ifs’ continue to grow.

However, now I try and use this unconscious worst-case-scenario as a way to panic myself into action. Rewards come from risk, and a life without risk is a life that’s probably pretty boring.

When I arrived in the land of the ill – i wasn’t sure i was going to survive. It was the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. I made a list of all the things I’d do if I ever recovered. If I got a second chance. I mean, yeah, i had led a pretty interesting life up to that moment, but I had made sacrifices in the present for a future which I had no idea I’d ever get, as we all do. As a patient, I often felt misunderstood. I was demeaned within the healthcare system 1 or 2 times. I felt ashamed for being poorly. (As well as being shown amazing compassion).  I could see levels of the system that I knew I could instantly change if I was in the system (such as just simplying listening to the patient, making them feel heard). I also ferociously  read everything i could on cancer, & healthcare and compassion. The experience made me want to be the change I so desperately wanted to see as a Patient. I thought, mane, this system needs some more creative/different thinkers! I have this habit of trying to game systems. So when I started to get back onto my feet a little bit, or learning to live with what was happening, I began to realize some of those things on my list. After talking to a lot of people, I realized the potential possibilities so I applied & started my healthcare adventure.

Being told that it looks like you have a malignancy forces you to realize that life can end literally any time. And this quickly changes what you deem worthy of your attention. I was furious at myself for not being as present with friends and family as I should have been. All the nights-out I missed at university, all the times I wasn’t empathetic to my housemate for his anxiety with post-graduation life. I was absolutely Furious! These were things I hadn’t even calculated in my head until I got ill.

The junction between mortality and mundanity is an exquisite source of perspective.  I often sit on the bus, watch a sunset and I think about how these boundaries between are treacherous and illusory.  It’s hard to gain this kind of perspective, and it’s equally hard not to lose it, not to start slipping back into old habits. Partially for that reason, I enrolled onto my radiation oncology course. I love art, and it makes me happy and fulfils my soul.  But I do miss the way people think in art, and the discussions and dialogues when I’m working in healthcare. I miss the playfulness of the every day I had when I was a fulltime artist – but I believe there’s somewhere in between for both areas.

Art makes me the person who doesn’t trust everything I am taught in the healthcare system. Art is the reason why I can understand and empathize with a persons story, with the person and not just the disease that we’re treating. Healthcare makes me appreciate the edges of life, the possibilities, the beauty & tragedy in it. Designing something brings these 2 worlds together for me.

But coding has taught me about action. This is extremely important right now. We are standing in the middle of time, where great injustices go untouched. Architects of the financial melt down continue to swoon with the governments. & yet our laws and governments continue to value capitalism over humanity. Under-funding the NHS, profiting from education, trying to put laws into place to criminalize our movements when we try and mobilise against things that are wrong, cutting funding for those who are in great need of it, where we give up our freedoms, and allow ourselves to be spied on by the NSA, ect all under the guise of protection.

Change doesn’t roll in on inevitability, it comes with continuous struggle.

So, just as I promised my bleeding, puking, bruised former-self, I plan on raging against the bullshit, and make things that can help others, and keep the door open with kindess & listen. I will wander for a while: call this just 1 of many future sabbaticals.  Life isn’t linear. Neither is coding, making, changing.  In the end, I think my job over-all isn’t healthcare student, nor artist – but to remind myself every day that my time is limited. And so is yours.

As Aaron Swarts used to say, “What is the most important thing you could be working on right now? And if you’re not working on that, why aren’t you?”

 

Here’s somethings I’ve been working on:

http://livemappingsmizz.tumblr.com/

http://f-o-r-c-e.org.uk/

http://gravity21.org/

 

Constantly Lucky: 26 years

It’s my birthday in about 48 hours. I used to hate getting older because, well, I always thought i’d have my life way more ‘together’ by now. Like, I thought that maybe I would have met someone special. Maybe I’d have what my mom calls a “proper job” (by that, she means oppressed, clock your card-in, have to leave the house to do it, ect – the working class way). Maybe i’d have a proper house, I don’t think i’d ever buy (still don’t) but renting – like realll nice. But life interrupts, and actually those thoughts were never my real desires anyway. They were implanted into my head by what is deemed as acceptable by a capitalist society.

But now I just feel constantly lucky. Lucky that I’m making it to 27 & my multiple of jobs means that I’m always working and meeting with inspirational people. I kind of hate the wrinkles near my eyes (crows feet?) but now I sort of love them. They’re a welcomed reminder than i’m alive, I am living, and living with fun – with a smile & laughter.

I know that age is arbitrary. I’ve read that your 30s are when things start to work. Your 20s are supposed to be outgrowing our 21st century prolonged puberty.  But it’s all relative, really. Hitting those ‘milestones’ are all just part something. Part luck, part shit bad-luck, part working hard, part partying hard, part kindness, part optimism, part time.

When I fell sick, I quickly realized that I had quite a lot of my priorities mixed up. My artist-ego was getting inflated, and you know, i was starting to get recognised across continents, getting a few good-profile residencies, getting paid to do what I do. I spent months and months away from home, never calling, never seeing my home-friends or family. I wasn’t mean, or nasty, or unkind – but I wasn’t very thoughtful of others. I distinctively remember my 20 year old self not understanding why a depressed friend couldn’t join us because she felt tired. Now I understand why others can not understand fatigue in me. If you’ve never experienced chronic fatigue & pain, you won’t really “get-it”, unless you’re truly empathetic/compassionate. Which I certainly wasn’t 5 years ago. That’s not really how I wanted to live my life, being self-obsessed, that wasn’t the person I wanted to be.

Then when I fell sick, in the beginning it was nothing. Then time went on & it got worse. And worse. Until it made me feel helpless. I cried. I felt sorry for myself. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t believe it.

Life’s big decisions which were mine to make felt no more. My whole-life was tipped upside down. I was no-longer the worker-beaver I was- the persona I had so publicly built for myself crumbled – also publicly.  Still The Smizz of All Trades, just slow, really slow. No reply from emails for days… weeks. I just wanted to sleep. I had pain so deep. Nightsweats that made me feel like I had wet the bed, blood from anywhere. Everything we take for granted everyday, like holding a conversation, running up the stairs, having a shower took insane effort. I’ve lost days, weeks, even months of my life.

Despite my neglect of my friends & family whilst I  pursued my need for art-fame, when I fell ill – they caught me mid-fall & are still here, holding me up. Roadtrips where I was throwing up, or too weak to do anything – they stayed with me. Money I needed to cover my USA medical bills – they banded together and paid it for me. Christmas dinners, Thanksgivings – they do it because they know it makes me really happy.  Great drawing opportunities. Friends across the world donated time, money, connections, rides. Strangers sent mail. On the days I feel insanely shit, they mail and post super nice things on Facebook and Twitter. They keep me going. We always make a laugh about it. I owe them so much.

One thing I think about and often talk about when with friends is life and death. When I first got told that it looked like I had a lymphoid malignancy – all I did on my indenial roadtrip across the USA was research the odds, every McDonalds, Motel, Starbucks free-wifi connection – I’d update my status about some amazing thing we were doing & bookmark a page of research on lymphomas. That research and statistics still sits with me. I think about it with my patients. I feel a heavy weight that’s unexplainable in my chest when someone is dealt a devastating hand of event(s), when I’m writing my assignments, when I read peoples blogs. I don’t think about them every day anymore, which makes me feel like maybe time is a healer after-all.

Whilst feeling not the best, this year- my 26th year – I got to spend the year learning new things, all about the human-body, I see life on the edges every day. I got to meet many inspirational people, I got to do a few weeks in NYC, reconnecting with old friends, and returning to work at Doc/Fest. I saw my mom get married,  saw the sun set above the clouds and the clearest night sky in the world. I visited Denmark for the first time, and spent time working on some really cool projects with really cool people. Now I’m planning a trip to Thailand, Japan and Bali (Not all together).

Through these experiences, I realized how debilitating it all can be, and how rarely we take the time to understand pain in others. That was my main motivation to going to study Radiotherapy & Oncology. But this lesson is still being learnt. The experience is humbling and, more than anything, made me much more aware of – and empathetic to – the hurt that we ignore.

This, in particular, is my motivation going into my 27th year. My resolution is to take more time recognizing the pain in others and offering solace whenever possible. I aim to keep the dialogue open with all of you, whether online or in-person.

I am not sure about all that will come next.  I’m hoping my 27th year will be one of closure from this illness. But what I do know is that I’ve stopped wasting time (most of the time). I can’t help but feel the weight of its value each day. That awareness itself feels like a gift. I vowed that if I ever got through this that I would eat better, play harder, work smarter and love more. Never again would the significance of a moment pass me by.

It’s all just bumps along the road. Make sure you’re living life the way that is important to you. Don’t wait to be asked for help; you’re already being beckoned.

On the 9th, my actual birthday, I will be taking a flight to Lisbon, Portugal. I’ll watch the sunset, and toast to time & feeling really alive. Constantly lucky, y’all.