Something I’ve known about myself for a long time is that I like to be in control. I like certainty. There’s no room for grey in my world. Those of you that know me, will likely recognise this! That approach generally works ok in normal life, sort of (I appreciate not always easy to live with!), but throw a stage 4 cancer diagnosis in to the mix and it kind of comes crashing down around me with the only certainty being that this thing will kill me. Just how and when, we’re not too sure. Oh, brilliant.
So what to do with this kind of news and how to approach it? Do I make a bucket list? No, I don’t think so. That feels too hard, too final. I can’t let my brain venture in to all the things I’m going to miss out on. That feels too dark, too much. Should I feel grateful for all the small things? Hopefully some day soon, but right now surviving chemo is a challenge and makes it pretty hard to be grateful. I do hear that time will come as I, apparently, move through the stages of grief, grieving for the life I won’t have. But I’m also not angry. At what? At who? I can’t see any use in that. It’s not going to change anything. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely have those days where I can be heard to mutter how unfair all this bullshit is, but generally that’s shortly followed by a chorus of ‘life isn’t fair’ wringing in my ears.
So, seemingly, my way of coping is to go to the practical. The things I can control. I may not be able to control the diagnosis, how the cancer responds to treatment, if it spreads, how long I’ve got left, but there are things around it I can control and manage, and I’ve thrown myself full pelt in to that and it’s turned in to the mother of all handovers!
It’s a bit like I’m going on holiday from work – obviously there’s a spreadsheet. Different tabs for different topics. My (not so) inner geek revelling in the lists, the tables, the formatting. It has to be neat and tidy. Afterall, this is a reflection of me for when I’m gone! Tasks allocated out (sorry David, most will be coming your way!). All a way of dumping a million bits of information out of my brain in to something tangible that can be used when I’m not here any more. There’s the important stuff in there – life insurance, bank accounts, mortgage, passwords, but the stuff that seems to keep me awake at night doesn’t even come close on the important scale, really. Genuinely. Stuff like how will he know which is the best setting on the tumble dryer to use, how will he do a weekly shop, how will he know Charlotte will need a new coat each winter, new sizes in school uniform, swimming / PE kit on the right days, will he ever use Vinted (doubtful!)? And the sensible answer is that they’ll manage fine, and figure it all out. But try telling me that at 3am.
So with a not too positive prognosis looming and in my attempt to get this stuff organised and sorted, I found myself on Amazon googling a previously untapped marketplace in my varied Amazon shopping history – death admin. It’s a booming area, it would seem. My purchase – a notebook entitled ‘Shit You’ll Need When I’m Gone’ with helpful sections and prompts. Who knew there was this whole industry? That other people had brains like mine? But which notebook to go for, some look too American, does it actually give me what I (they) will need? It would seem dying people have a lot of time on their hands to leave very helpful reviews, so purchase made!
Then I found myself in the grim world of funeral planning. How do you choose an undertakers? Is planning your own funeral even a thing? Yep, certainly is apparently. But what do I want? No horses, no carriages. But limos? Flowers? Any readings? Wow, I dont know. Time to go away and think. And how do I sum up lifes most important moments in a few songs? It’s like Desert Island Discs on steroids. More googling – ‘good funeral songs’. But that returns a list of songs I’ve never heard of. Do I put it our for requests / suggestions? Maybe those reading this – message me with any great ideas, otherwise I guess you’ll all have to wait for the surprise. But know, I did think about them and hope I made the right choices! And hopefuly one less thing for David, my Mum, Luke, Charlotte to have to think about in those grim days.
And my ask of you all – perhaps the most important thing on ‘The Handover’. Please talk about me. I’m not religious. I don’t believe that I’ll go to Heaven (or Hell!). But I do believe that my existence can live on, even after death, as long as I am remembered by people, talked about by people. My belief so high brow it’s basically Disney Pixar’s Coco film – the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead. Those Mexican ties I always longed for (IYKYK!!). Share memories, talk about me, the good and the bad. Don’t make me out to be a hero. Tell the real stories – where I messed up, where I wasn’t great, the truth. Talk about me to Charlotte, give her, David, anyone who wants it, the safe space to share memories. It’s so normal for people to feel they can’t talk about the dead person, that it’s too awkward, too upsetting, it will make people cry. I remember it so clearly with Dad, but actually it was what I wanted to do and always helped. When no one remembers me, that’s when I’ll fade away. So please, keep that job on your ‘to do’ list. Afterall, I’ve allocated it to you all on the ‘The Handover’.
