The battle between those who see humanity, dignity, equality, inclusion and those who see preservation of a self interested status quo is the age old battle between change and resistance to change, flow and stagnation, openness and self righteous certainty, a clear mind and one boxed and limited by fiercely defended (often culturally inherited) dogma.

And this battle has some ugly faces, for defensive people self righteously protecting self interests can be as soul-ugly as any Nazi. But eventually even everyday Nazi’s protected by their own self righteousness, narcissism and whitewashed history and self image, nevertheless catch an undeniable glimpse of their ugliness in a mirror. So, without hatred, without judgement of the Nazism you cannot imagine being your guide, strive in your art, in your writing, in your living, to be the incidental mirror.

Polly Samuel (aka ‘Donna Williams’)
Author, artist, consultant and presenter.
http://www.donnawilliams.net

I acknowledge Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people as the Traditional Owners of this country throughout Australia, and their connection to land and community.

It was my 53rd birthday mid October. I was diagnosed with terminal metastatic breast cancer in mid September and the week of my birthday had just done my fourth palliative chemo. The weekly chemos had been shrinking the innumerable tumors in my liver and the one in my spine wonderfully and even though I know this drug Cinderella tends to work for only 8-12 months before the cancer cells mutate again and become resistant to it and all the tumors return, I get to ‘go to the ball’… Read the rest of this entry »

I was 47 years old in June 2011 when I found a lump in my left breast. It was the size of an almond and I felt certain it was just another cyst like the other two lumps which had already made homes in my breast. Chris was in hospital dealing with a gall bladder catastrophe for three grueling weeks. I was so busy worrying whether and when he’d be home again, snuggling with my man with his drain tubes and urine bottles, his bare body in the hospital gowns I found so frightening, that I didn’t tell him about the lump. Mostly, I couldn’t even really tell me yet. It was once he came home, rehabilitating, the last of his drain tubes out, clear he was going to be safe. Then I said ‘can you feel this?’ The following Monday I was at the GP. Within a week I was having a mammogram. A week later a biopsy. A week later mastectomy. Three weeks later chemo. Three months later Chris and I emerged from the chemo journey and I had my second mastectomy. This is a telling of that 2011 tale. I hope it gives readers hope and belonging. Read the rest of this entry »

I was diagnosed mid September 2016 with metastatic breast cancer to the liver (and spine). Statistically the usual life expectancy for metastases (mets) to the liver is 6mths-3yrs, the former being extensive/innumerable tumors to liver, the later, a few. I have extensive/innumerable tumors to liver. We’re doing a great job shrinking them, but this will only last around 10 months when this drug is known to stop working because the cancer cells become resistant to it. Read the rest of this entry »

Ya never know how the shitola of the past becomes one’s best asset… when the chemo stops working I’ll be leaving my breathing machine off, taking a muscle relaxant and a few sleeping pills with a sake and night night to the world.

My wild reckless homeless teens gave me all the practice… accidentally overdosing, drinking myself unconscious, playing with death like life was far scarier than death ever could be… and as an adult about to turn 53 I’m so glad I was that teen because it is so hard to actually let oneself leave like that. This is not actually suicide, for I did not come into this world with a failed respiratory drive. It was damaged when I was 2-4 years old and failed further when I was 46 then further again when I was 47-48. So I would merely be letting my failed respiratory drive do its thing, much the same as someone choosing not to take their medication or use their walking stick. I’d just be ensuring my failed respiratory drive does its thing as I leave my machine turned off. Nevertheless its still a full on thing to confront. But a slow death from cancer is the alternative.

Thanks to the gift of a failed respiratory drive from a mother with Munchausen’s By Proxy and the blessing of my chemo and two mastectomy related general anesthetics in 2011 pushing that to a point I only breathe on my own in my sleep without my machine for a few minutes every 30-120 minutes, I found myself blessed to HAVE a choice about the length of my ending.

I just wish every other person at their end had a humane choice, the kind we give our fur babies. A choice is not obligatory, people can do the long drawn out ending if they wish. But it is my wish that as a society through talking openly about death and the end processes in incurable slow deaths, that we can look at the issues with sanity and humanity and not the knee jerk me-me defensiveness of those in power with religious ‘beliefs’ who are not in this position and do not, and should not, represent all without their beliefs.

Polly Samuel (aka ‘Donna Williams’)
Author, artist, consultant and presenter.
http://www.donnawilliams.net

I acknowledge Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people as the Traditional Owners of this country throughout Australia, and their connection to land and community.

At age 13 I had an NDE, a Near Death Experience. I was a suicidal 13 year old, I ‘died’ alone in my attic room from alcohol poisoning inhaling metholated spirits because I was too terrified to sleep in there, because my soul was weary, because I felt there was no hope and didn’t have any reason to live… and as I felt pulled heavily into the mattress my spirit lifted out of my body into a warmth of pure light as all I was dispersed onto that light… so had this same experience, but my body called me back… it wasn’t my time. I never feared death since. Read the rest of this entry »

Less than a month ago I learned by breast cancer returned, that my liver had innumerable tumors and one in my spine. Most people imagine bucket lists, but I did a spring clean, celebrated the little things & ordered online what I needed for my new lifestyle of weekly chemo for the rest of my life (chemo for secondary breast cancer is to extend months, hopefully a year or even sometimes years). I focused on laughing, living, loving and normalising this new direction for me, my husband, our cats, our friends. Read the rest of this entry »

I was 9-11 years old when I progressively went from 90% meaning deaf and predominantly stored phrases, TV scripts and echolalia to being only 50% meaning deaf and finally striving to string simple novel sentences together. By age 11 I could construct slow, klunky simple sentences (and still also had fluent, expressive echolalia), by age 12 I could do long litanies at people and was developing simple conversing skills. By 18 I had learned to suppress much of my echolalia, keeping my ‘self chatter’ for when I was alone. So how did this happen? Read the rest of this entry »

People are commonly afraid of death, their own and that of those they love, sometimes of the concept itself. By the age of 5 I had already encountered loss, extreme life threatening events and actual death on a number of levels at a very young age. Read the rest of this entry »

Louise Hearman and the Archibald Prize fail to truly capture Barry Humphries . To capture Barry Humphries you’d have to have been the 8 year old autistic child experiencing attempted rape at a party in his Barry MacKenzie heydays. Read the rest of this entry »