I didn’t know her, I was made aware of her story on Monday when it hit the news that she only had days to live. She died today.

She leaves behind a husband and a young child and lots of friends. As a broadcaster her death has a greater impact, as her optimism in relation to her diagnosis will have given lots of people hope.

Her death shouldn’t cause anyone to lose hope. This is just the way things are. None of us (yes, that’s you too) will make out of here alive; yet strangely we sort of think we might.

The first thing I did when I read the news on Monday was feel sad as not only did she seem lovely from what I could gather, she was only 40. The very next thing I did (because she suffered from breast cancer and was only 40) was to find out as quickly as possible when she was diagnosed, what type of breast cancer she had, what treatment she had gone through and how similar her situation was to mine.

We all do this in one way or another whenever we hear about anyone dying or being sick close to our own age. It’s just too close to home. It’s a logical thing to do but it made me feel uncomfortable. I do it often as I come across other women with breast cancer these days and it always makes me feel that way. So I’m just going to have to get used to that feeling.

Sometimes I feel guilty (if I appear to be more well) and other times I feel more afraid for my future (if the other person seems to be healthier than me).

No matter how ill we are ourselves, we still look to other examples to reassure ourselves that we will be OK or to confirm our negative belief that we will not make it through. It is, whether I like it or not, just human nature. Yet it’s utterly pointless! What fools we are.

A short yet beautiful conversation with a fabulous friend earlier, confirmed me in my view that we are largely terribly uncomfortable talking about death and disease. I’ve mentioned this before. Rachael Bland (the woman I mention above) did a lot to help mitigate some of this by presenting as part of a podcast (which I had not heard of before this week), discussing the issues surrounding a life with cancer as a younger person (You, me and the Big C).

My own behaviours at present, in an attempt to process my own situation and make some sense of it all, fluctuate wildly between excessive attempts at contact with the outside world (and a desperate need for you all to understand) and sitting alone in my pyjamas, exhausted by the effort.

The need to do as much as I can in whatever time I have left – and to be clear at this stage as far as I’m aware this could be decades – clashes violently with my need to be asleep.

I think I’m starting to get more comfortable with the idea that death is here all the time. You see death and our ability to deal with it is part of life, it’s not something we can battle, it doesn’t work like that. There’s no sense in worrying about it.

I’m not trying to be alarming, nor am I trying to scare you or put you off your tea. I am however working really hard, which might be why I’m so tired, to get everyone more relaxed about the inevitable and more engaged in NOW.

The more aware we are of things that can happen to us to some degree the better, we can try and be safe, we can check our bodies for changes and hopefully happily survive treatment for many years to come.

In the meantime…Slow down, you move too fast, you got to make the morning last…

You see, Simon & Garfunkel worked this out in the 60s although it could have been the drugs that influenced them rather than a serious illness!

Whether you are five minutes away from death or 100 years; slowing down, appreciating the moment, not rushing and making sure you fully engage in every interaction you have with another human being is the answer.

It’s not a neat answer. It won’t get more done and it’s not the sense of meaning you’re hoping for from life. I’ve covered that search already in another post 😉.

It is the quality that counts.

Sadly most of us only realise this when quantity is no longer an option.

Buck the trend.