Looking back over my shoulder...

The Sadness of my Reflection

Last year, I was in full on 'get organised' mode trying to get the '10 Year Anniversary' films out. I labelled them "A Decade Decayed" which I think is a good description of what the last 11 years has been. But making them took time and left little space for introspection or reflection. I never really marked the decade past.

I took the time to reflect deeply and at length on the last decade. I very quickly realised something quite startling.

This is not a story to inspire or cheer. It is not a story of human triumph in the face of overwhelming medical odds. It is not a story to give to those who seek succour from the experience of others. But it is a story which remains true to the spirit and core ethos of Gibboblog. It is honest and real.

The last 11 years have had far too many losses for me to write triumphantly about my fight against leukaemia and crippling pain. It would be both false and disrespectful. I'm not talking about losses from a medical perspective, although there have been many of those. No. This is the story of those who have passed in the last 11 years. These were my soldiers, my army, my defence force. They were the backbone of my armoury.

But above all else - They were my friends.

Marking the Fallen

I have spoken repeatedly in these blogs about the importance of having a strong support team around me in this fight. It's not just about family. In fact, it's not necessarily about family at all. Many people do not discuss the details of their cancer fight with those family members closest to them. Not because they don't love them or don't care about them - in fact, the exact opposite is true. Most people choose not to discuss the worst details of their fight because they do not want to hurt those they love the most. This fight is ugly, unpleasant and often gory. Why would we share those awful details with those we love the most? They know where my blogs and films are - if they want to go and look, they know where to find them.

And some people do not have close relationships with their extended family anyway. It's not that you don't care about them, or them about you. It's just that you don't have that type of relationship that would naturally involve sharing the worst details of the fight. I didn't share anything after the first couple of films of "A Decade Decayed" with my family. Not because I don't care about or love them. But simply because it struck me that it just might be too much for them to take on board. And that's fine and natural. As I say, our defence forces are rarely made up of family members that are closest to us.

This is about that small group of people (whoever they are) with whom you discuss everything. The people with whom you do the 'warts and all' conversations. I had about 8 of them - my closest friends and confidants with whom I could discuss anything. But the inevitability of time passing is that we lose loved ones. Memento mori indeed. So now that original number is half of what it was. And it is upon them that I reflect when I look back over the last decade, not myself. I try to use their memory as a source of energy and impetus to drive me to keep fighting, but in reality the memory of them just leaves me with an unfilled hole in my already broken heart.

They were people of such incredible humanity that they cared enough to listen. People fighting cancer do not expect their defence force to have any answers. They just need them to listen, and that is what these friends did. They were my true blues, the best of the best, unwavering, relentless in their support and steadfast in their love, resolute in their friendship and constant in their compassion.

I could laugh about was going to die first while gasping for breath after doing 30 lengths in the swimming pool with Bill. But no more.

I could argue with Heather about what was best for me psychologically and then laugh about what we said to each other in the heat of the moment before sharing a warm and loving hug. But no more.

I could laugh with Jack about whether Liverpool were better than Arsenal. I could advise him on how to deal with difficult people in his class at school. I could marvel at the man he was becoming. But no more.

I could chat online to Thomas about what was happening at our old haunts in New York and how his family was growing. But no more.

There remains a deep and indelible sense of guilt that I continue to live while they have fought their battles but reached the inevitable destination before me. How is it fair that I have got lucky and they didn't? They were better people than me. They were nicer, kinder, better. It's just not fair.

We have lost others (my Mother, Brother-In -Law and so many others) and we feel the sting of their loss every bit as strongly. But we just feel some losses more. Some never realised they were part of their defence force, but the nature of our relationship and the impact it had on me made them redoubtable and stalwart soldiers nevertheless.

So I recall their names and remember them with love, gratitude and a profound sense of irreplaceable loss. May you all rest in peace and love. You will always be remembered.

The Future

And so, the past is past. It is gone. I cannot change it. I have made so many mistakes in my life and much as I have learned from them all, they still bring embarrassment, chagrin and profound regret. I wished I had been a better man in many situations, but I have tried to be the best man I can, and that will continue to be what drives me and what I strive to be.

I plan to continue to document my journey in both blog and film. Many won't understand why. Many won't care. Many will ignore. And that is absolutely fine with me. I do not do this for them.

And thus I land exactly where I started 11 years ago with my 'raison, d'etre' for putting my life out there. I do it for me. I do it to get all of the poisonous, self-destructive, depressive and angry stuff out of my head. I do it for my own mental health.

But if it brings succour or support to even just one other person...

...then it is the greatest achievement of my life.

Stay Strong. Fight Hard. Laugh Lots.

My thoughts about that last 11 years are mixed.

There have been some highs but far too many lows.

This is not a story of inspiration. It is one of dogged determination in the face of a losing battle.