Above Ground by Yvonne Witter

Last Wednesday via WhatsApp I asked my friend Rowena how she was, and she replied in a low tone “above ground”, we giggled. She runs a travel business in Kingston, Jamaica and travels the world extensively. She had been complaining of feeling tired and needing to offload some of her work to her staff. I think she is struggling with 'letting go', as she built her business from scratch. 

“Hhmm not heard that before" I said, "but it’s now mine too, so when someone asks how I am, I shall say ‘above ground and feeling grateful’”.

I found this quote, cut it out and stuck it in my journal last year.‘I write quicker now because of the panic of death’ Playwright David Hare told The Times that age is a great cure for writers’ block [January 2018]. Well considering that in June 2018 my over zealous GP gave me a prognosis of imminent death due to advanced cancer based on a lung X-ray, a diagnosis that wasn’t based on sufficient medical examination or tests. However, further tests with senior Consultants did reveal that all was not well, and my body was in dis-ease. So, demise is certain as it is for all of us who are ‘above ground’ but in my case not quite so imminent.

I mean after all who knows when we are going to pop off, push up daisies, be given last rites, or just shuffle off. Yes, there are predictors, but for some of us all we have are indicators that our bodies are malfunctioning. Dis-ease, uncurable but contained, dis-ease which wreaks havoc in more ways than the physical deterioration of healthy cells, and the symptoms of which sometimes there aren’t even that many. I know it sounds like hyperbole it must do. I fluctuate between feeling like I am on ‘death row’ to wanting to squeeze the last juice out of every day, if only I had the energy.  It has taken almost a year to stop feeling like its pointless starting anything as I might not be alive to complete it. Or going overseas for too long is a risk, just-in-case.

I was for a while simply waiting, expecting the physical deterioration and subsequent entry to the hospice to await my final hour. I have told my oncologist, on each visit that he is a miracle worker. He is simply the best, I wish I could sing that Tina Turner song to him, well the chorus anyway.

But wait a minute, my trip to the hospice no longer necessary, my energy levels are increasing, my appetite has certainly returned so no more compliments from our image obsessed society that equates weight loss with good health, oh the irony. I can’t lie though I liked the idea of throwing out frocks that were too big and buying a size smaller. You can’t be too thin these days, even if your body is wasting away, who cares? What really matters to the masses is that you are no longer a fatty.

So yes, alongside saying no to anything or anyone that does not bring me joy, or worse still stresses me out or does not make me feel empowered; I have also decided to seek out and prioritize that which brings me pleasure, keeps me calm, balanced and feeling good about myself. I suppose if I had always done that, I might not have grown a quite so dis-eased body.

However, I battle on in the knowledge that being ‘above ground’ is quite significant and whilst I can function on all cylinders I ought to be truly grateful and embrace every opportunity to celebrate each day.