The concept of anyone being alone at Christmas time, especially so, on Christmas day would appear to prove bothersome to those friends and colleagues who have expressed their opinion to me in recent weeks rather than myself; at whom their concerned opinions were aimed. When I point out that I profess no particular interest in religiosity or its time honoured rituals or my objection to the crass commercialism associated with such seasonal festivities; I am greeted with a singular stare of incredulity.
Furthermore; when I stress the often mute point on my part that after-all is said and done Christmas is more generally considered a time for family celebration, consolidation and rebirth and my having no near or extended family to accommodate any of my supposed familial requirements is a non-starter. I am then offered empathy, social advice, even directions to the nearest soup-kitchen but not one invitation to enjoin in their enclosed Christian celebration of the supposed birth of a deity named Jesus Christ; the one born, a long time ago in a stable in Bethlehem because of an acute shortage of accommodation and societal attitude toward the unmarried woman, Mary and her attendant cuckold, Joseph is ever forthcoming.
Independent living regardless of its instigation or origination is looked upon as an unwarranted self-imposed psychological aberration of the norm in societal conformity and serves only to undermine ones own dependence on the lives of many another. Throughout history this human anomaly of ownership of self and ones lifestyle of minority is perceived by the majority, as threat to the whole of society and is therefore made destructive by communal consent.
The term spinster applied to independent older women leads often to ridicule and further isolation by society; a female considered without marriageable qualities only to be ostracised, as an old maid in neighbourly contention. Conversely the independent older male is often seen as a man of independent means and a good catch, especially so if replete with a healthy bank-account, original good-looks and convertible sports car but more generally only those considered of celebrity background. The unwashed working-class old man in traditional raincoat equally is ostracised as the female particularly when observed collecting ones weekly pension or other socialised benefit from oifig an phoist; and is thus made surplus to anyones requirement having outlived their usefulness in the scheme of things long-since, passed.
A year ago at age sixty-one my world turned upside down when diagnosed with cancer. A lump in my neck persisted for some weeks before Christmas thought by all who observed to be a swollen-gland, a mere remnant of a seasonal bout of flue contracted from my youngest daughter; co-coincidently this annual ritual of schoolroom contagion in effect saved my life. I would most likely have carried on regardless, as one often does when faced with the logicality of a quick trip to ones general practitioner for examination or leaving the problematic to fate now considered to be the modern male prerogative.
However having responsibility of family and two teenage daughters I availed myself of medical advice at the first available opportunity after the holidays and was given a scan ironically on January 13th 2011. The confirmed diagnosis was to come much later on in March following a month long stay in hospital during which the cancer was indeed confirmed as the virulent type of Nasopharyngeal carcinoma. The most common cancer in males originating in the nasopharynx, the uppermost region of the pharynx, behind the nose where the nasal passages and auditory tubes join the remainder of the upper respiratory tract.
What was to follow is unimaginable to those who have not been affected by cancer and literally suffered the extremes of an almost medieval torturous regime of medical intervention though the auspices of applied radiation contamination and highly toxic chemical based therapies, combined over a three month hospitalised period. The side-effects are injurious not only to the physical structures of the corporeal but also play a significant role to the detriment of mental health and overall stability of mind. The social effect of this insidious disease is dramatic people shy away naturally enough through simple fears aroused in themselves and an albeit wrongly perceived inability of themselves to cope if they were ever unfortunate enough to contract the condition; these are people of the type one never sets eyes upon, ever again.
The required infrastructure to deal with the myriad side-effects is supposedly in place put there by the appropriate health authority but unfortunately in real terms is ineffectual at best and totally non-existent within the home communities. The medical staff concern themselves only with the task of keeping the patient alive. The patient is so often treated with a disdainful parental mannerism by the overworked and underpaid medical team but this attitude affords them little in the way of cooperation, forgiveness and/or given respect of the majority of patients thus affected. Ergo the detrimental effects of cancer on the social-life, psychological endurance of family and friends assigned to the patient are so often neglected and thus suffer perhaps even more importantly than the actual loss of the patient themselves by their loved ones; devolved as a comprehensible relief by unaffected majority consensus.
It is understandable therefore, though wholly unexpected, that breakdown in relationships will follow especially as the patient is totally ill-equipped to handle both survival of the disease and maintain a healthy quid pro quo through the enormity of residual side-effect that can continue on over some period of time, often months, even years. There comes a time inevitably, as in my own particular experience, when push comes to shove and the world turns upside down purely through circumstance.
Circumstance that has in the penultimate month of 2012 brought the prospect of either enduring loneliness to my door or one of actual rebirth. I choose emancipated life over death either corporeal and/or social oblivion brought about by communal exclusion above all other things. As I did when the original impact of diagnosis of Nasopharyngeal carcinoma interrupted and eventually brought about the end of what had become a seventeen year long relationship of two people of like mind, once considered deeply in love and only the world at large to contend against in soulful union, celebration, consolidation and continual rebirth in familial celebration especially so at Christmas time.
We live in a society based on falsehood there are many others less fortunate than ourselves living out the whole of their lives based on little more than a natural born instinct to survive against all odds in the upcoming days of wintered solstice and its seasonal celebration. Abroad on the streets the other day accompanied by a surviving friend. I use the term surviving friend only in medical terminology as he himself was struck down with a similar form of throat-cancer; at the same time, as I myself which is how we first became acquainted. A true friendship then ensued that will endure beyond even the ravages of time without a shadow of a doubt. We were stood in the main street deciding upon our next move, my friend having travelled over earlier in the day to help celebrate my sixty-second birthday thus his sojourn was limited by time and weathered constraints having left a snow-covered landscape that morning.
A young man called out my name in greeting my friend was startled by this sudden approach rather than the appearance of this dishevelled young man and his knowing my name. I had happened upon this particular young man during the recent presidential campaign with two others slightly older than he but equally dishevelled in appearance; begging and asking passers-by for a spare cigarette. They occupied one of the many abandoned properties in the locale but to their chagrin one deemed uninhabitable and totally unfit for human occupation. I in turn spoke of hope for change following the upcoming election and of an eventual return to a united Ireland and the freedom thus envisaged only the inauguration of a second peoples Republic of Ireland could apply. I then proffered further housing advice to their instant ridicule and knowledgeable amusement, money for cigarettes, bid them farewell, good luck and went about the business of the day.
The young man who greeted me quickly learned of my birthday on that day and wished for me all the best in the future. Then asked for a cigarette which we both gave money to purchase for himself and told us of his destination. The weather at around 3pm remained freezing and extremely windy he still in a homeless state was on his way to the Town Hall housing department. Whereon his punctual attendance would be furnished with a letter of authorisation for a one night sojourn at a community based emergency hostel located somewhere in the town. The young man who was named Mark at birth displayed some guilt or rather compassion when I enquired as to the fate of his former companions I had met but I learned they had not been afforded the same luck, as Mark that day and remained behind in the abandoned property.
My friend was further taken aback when Mark hugged both of us and thanked us profusely for the few shillings given and wished us a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. Unfortunately for Mark his required attendance at 4pm that day would not end his plight but rather further his distress wandering the streets until the official opening time of the hostel at 9pm and ending his brief respite from the storm abruptly at 9am the following morning and back out onto the streets of continuing despair.
Christmas day I will treat like any other day in the advent calender but unlike the Mark's of the world I will be warm and cosy under my insulated roof, writing and then preparing my usual repast, pumping in my supplements, connected to the internet, listening to cool music flowing through my head-phones. All this and more after a good nights sleep on my memory foam mattress supported by a more than supportive chunky pine bed. Perhaps thinking of those who have stood by me throughout my life thus far and remaining in support and understanding of what it is to survive the vagaries of life that now results in my lone existence without any regret; only thanks for a life recovered from severe illness and an opportunity that my rebirth will afford in a future, I once supposed was lost to me just twelve short months ago.
©Séafra Ó Ceallaigh 2011
a reflection from the past
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