Autobiography

I have read a lot of books (and done a lot of things, for that matter) where I have thought to myself at the end, ‘What a waste of time that was!’
I am glad I read this book, though. It is about one working-class woman’s fight against cancer
(and the following extract is taken from the same autobiography as referred to in my previous blog.)
 
‘Cancer has worked for me…Not for a second did I ever believe I would die…I know I’m not a realist, but my sense of tomorrow is so vivid, I have such a lot to finish and start, and besides, I haven’t had my finest hour…I always thought the planet beautiful, thought myself sensitive to nature, leaving no trace of myself on the landscape, trying not to crush life with a careless footfall and resisting the urge to pick flowers for fear of hearing them scream. Since becoming aware of my mortality, the world had changed to technicolour and I’m in awe at the wonder of it all. There is something inspiring about a slender solitary weed thrusting for life through concrete. I’m surrounded by survival, despite the odds, and my own determination is renewed.’
 
She won this particular battle, but not the war. In 1995, she eventually succumbed to lymphatic cancer