When you get punched in the face

A couple of years after my transplant, I was assaulted. Had the shit beaten out of me. What made it even more shameful, was that I was beaten up by a girl. Of course this rationale has evolved with the gradual unfurling of my life and hard won wisdom, so I know that it doesn't matter who … Continue reading When you get punched in the face

The power of choice

I made a life altering decision yesterday. I decided that I no longer need to rely on my opiate antagonist therapy. I had planned to stop on my birthday, which just happens to fall on New Year's Eve, but I've been feeling so happy and settled that I knew I could do it. And so I … Continue reading The power of choice

Happy Birthday, M

For M.E.B We became another death (the fulfilment of my internship). Like a false syncope, my grief would not let me claim you. You came to me with bleeding gums and a dent in your jaw, your broken gait like a barber cutting through walls of plasticine with blunt scissors. Bruised pride; your face a field of … Continue reading Happy Birthday, M

The night I lived again: part two

By the time it was definite that the donor lungs were a match, there would have been at least thirty-five people at the hospital – all friends and family. Even a friend’s boyfriend (now husband) had driven down from uni at Gatton, so he could be there for both me, his now wife and my … Continue reading The night I lived again: part two

Getting mouthy

Every morning of late, I stir in my bed until I feel that familiar pull on the roof of my mouth. Has someone thrown an ashtray in there? 'What is this?', I hiss Bellatrix Lestrange style, and with a swollen tongue and the inside of my mouth feeling akin to the skin of a cat (I'm more of a … Continue reading Getting mouthy

Why I forgive Belle Gibson

Last night saw unprecedented measures of anger, disbelief and absolute exasperation surrounding the 60 Minutes interview with disgraced 'wellness' blogger and creator of The Whole Pantry empire, Belle Gibson. For once, I went against my better judgment and watched the interview and as a cancer survivor, I have a few things to say. Firstly, I … Continue reading Why I forgive Belle Gibson

Autopsy of a marriage

Thrumming away from each other like broken mountains, by your second year, you had been excommunicated. Wrought by the passage of God, your clipped speech and ruddy cheeks made it hurt to be alive.   Her dowry – platelets swimming under skin and a fertile womb. Yours – a cellar of wine and an insistent mother whose teat you … Continue reading Autopsy of a marriage

New year pastoral

Loose udders and mucus plugs signals new life on the grass and clods of dirt. Lilies dance on water the way flies hover over fresh meat. A heifer drops its snout into the trough to drink – not greedily, but more delicately, sucking on the water in a docile way – fickle for a beast. Pebbles, clumps … Continue reading New year pastoral

Being woken at the gates of heaven

Candy in a bag - recollections of a need when my mind was an unswept room, my body a husk, full of holes so thick I thought I would leak. Needles in my bedside drawer, ampoules ready to be snapped off at the yellow line - that crisp and thrilling pop. No greater satisfaction, nor ever surpassed. … Continue reading Being woken at the gates of heaven

Learning to Die: my TEDx talk

Yesterday my TEDx talk went live on TEDx Brisbane's YouTube channel, and I've had an almost overwhelming response about speaking about my life (and deaths), and my beliefs and truths about death and dying. Here it is - Learning to Die. I've been bathing in the beautiful waters of Death Walking training over the last two days, the last … Continue reading Learning to Die: my TEDx talk