OUR CORE SUPPORT TEAM: Miri, Christo, AJ, Olly, Cathryn and Malcolm. Alongside Mark P, Tatiana, Tailah-Rei, John-Boy and Joy and their whanau. To all those who have sent messages about the support team here, and our supporters, this is for you all.... thank you for asking... their images are included in the Gallery.
There is a whakataukī, a Māori proverb which goes: Kāore te kumara e kōrero ana mo tōna ake reka - the kumara does not brag about its own sweetness.
Speaking of this saying, a wonderful friend, Te Papa Museum Head of Mātauranga Māori and Senior Curator Māori Puawai Cairns (Ngai te Rangi, Ngāti Ranginui and Ngāti Pukenga) “... has had a love/hate relationship with this whakataukī. In a previous workplace she put up signs that read ‘We are all about the sweetness’ in her office in an effort to encourage her team mates… it is a delicate dance between remaining humble and having a space to talk about yourself”.
I do not want to brag. It is unbecoming. I was raised to be humble, and to minimise self-congratulatory behaviour. But truth be known, quick reality check here, cos everyone who knows me knows I love being a bloody peacock! Love it LOL Metaphorically speaking, scattered in the makeup of my personality I know I have iridescent blue/green plumage, in my ego, metallic blue green hues awash, and when my hair was luxurious and long. it was my crown, akin to a peacock train of quill feathers, hence I admit to being a bloody peacock! LOL It is also true that I can be cocky, arrogantly self-assured, and preciously pedantic… but hey, in my defense, I’d also like to think I can be humble and quiet, where appropriate, when required.
For me, my core support team are living breathing angels whose actions, words, thoughts, tears, laughter, and love sustain me in this trial by fire. So, I wanted to take a brief moment to kōrero about them… the key people who transport me to the vast numbers of medical appointments, sit in on consultations, ask follow-up questions, and make their own mental notes; which I need later because I can only handle so many details, before things go ‘woozy’ for me. They keep on top of me about my meds, injections, dietary changes, food intake, check in about whether I’m sleeping, gauge my morphine intake (both the slow release and fast release tabs), they sit and talk with me daily (physically and/or electronically) … this is my core support team.
Miri (TMA Dip NZCM) is my raiona (lion), my pou (support pillar). She is an amazing mother, of two boys, Gino 13 and Kit 11. Her life revolves around her family, her professional roles of being 1. A Clinical Massage Practitioner, 2. A Teacher Aid for ‘special needs’ students, 3. A Business Entrepreneur selling Xmas Trees and Fireworks from our home, and 4. Creator of the Big Heat Wheaty Treat, a product designed specially to fit around your neck and shoulders. To my mind she is a workaholic, fiercely determined to give her sons every opportunity possible, and her husband a home and life he can be proud of. Her abundant successes in life are a simple reflection of her amazing ‘beingness’, if such a word makes sense.
We are cousins. Our fathers are brothers, babies 17 and 18 in fact, of 18 children born to our Ngāti Whare grandparents (the exact number of children varies depending whose family tree version you are getting). Three years ago, when I came to take up residence in her home, it was as a contributing, fully functioning, active member of the family. They got a helpful family member added to their household, and I got a beautiful place to call home! At no point was my residency here intended to transform dramatically to a patient requiring care-giving, requiring a protector role, because of a terminal illness. But from the very first GP consultation last December 21st Mirr was there, right by my side, as we received news of the abhorrent shocking arrival of cancer. It spurred her, she stirred, she rose, she poised, and readied herself… letting her powerful and indomitable maternal instinct to protect run free. She made it quite clear that she would stick right by me, her and Christo and the boys… in their home, if that was what I wanted. She would do it, wanted to do it. They would do it. Such was their shared love and admiration for me. The whānau.
Christo (Bachelor of Management), our ever jovial, quick-witted, smiling, laughing, super-intelligent, tall, striking Pākehā Italian hybrid, who is oh so ‘grounded’. The polar opposite of his wife Miri; he’s totally, sometimes frustratingly, “chilled”! Like Miri, his life revolves around their sons, his family, as well as his rampant addiction to tennis. Last year he chose to take time-out to complete his Master’s Degree this year… I love watching how he and Mirr engage with their boys, cleverly and deliberately ‘choosing’ which ‘growing pain’ battles to fight and which ‘growing pain’ battles to observe. He is now able to be fully present and accountable with his growing sons… our house resonates with his energies. Whenever I come across a house chore that entails distinctly male energy (e.g. DIY jobs), I let Christo know “I’ve found a boy-job for you mate lol”. Where Mirr is my pou, he is the pou for his wife and sons, and when my cancer unceremoniously arrived in his home, he was unflinchingly no-holes-barred right there next to me and Mirr… ready, willing, chest puffed out, head high, ready… “we can do this Vincee”.
I cried that first night, Friday night, December 21st, when they unwaveringly said “we can do this Vincee”.
Justin (BE Mechanical. PhD), who I call AJ (full name Andrew Justin). My former partner, who for the past several years has worked at Central Queensland University, residing in Rockhampton, Australia, but who is now whispering notions of coming home to Aotearoa. He is tall, blue eyed, agile, a rational thinker, logical, methodical, process-oriented, sequential in the way he thinks… thus he is vastly different to me. Opposites do attract. Where I am vivacious, social, enquiring, AJ is calming, introverted, polite. Opposites attract. The depth of his ongoing love was revealed when unbeknown to me he had conspired with Miri and Christo, jumped on a plane, flown back to Auckland, and appeared at my doorstep at 12.30 am. He stood there, tall, strong, ready, and gathered me in my arms as my life seemingly dissolved and I disappeared into a literal ’nothingness’, a barrage of tears, of gut-wrenching pain, primordial fight/flight/freeze modes that all haphazardly happened simultaneously… and he held me, rocked me, cried with me, whispered “I’m here my Vincee”… and for the next 18 days he was here, present, engaged in every aspect of this cancer challenge. Miri and I took him to the airport on Tues. I used morphine so as to travel with ease, and I cried as we hugged before he retreated into the terminal, where he held it together. My calming fantastic sane rational logical umbilical connection to reality returned to Australia, and I returned home to cry and sleep. I am so blessed.
Olly, aka Olly Ohlson a former TV presenter, counsellor, kaiako, tohunga, and so very many other professions and roles. When my beloved father, his big brother, suddenly passed away in 1996 at the age of 53, Olly stepped in as my pseudo-dad, my father figure, who I could look up to, be inspired by, follow, be guided by. This reinforced my relationship with his daughter Miri. He is the mataaho (reflection) of my indigenous nature; a forest walker, water diver, mischievous patupaiarehe (wood nymph), and eternally a child of the mist.
Malcolm is my therapist. Appointed by AJ. He appeared at the hospital, ready to hold my hand, listen to me, let me cry, talk, and he was ready to join our waka for cancer recovery. Malcolm’s voice is soothing, calming, he has his doctorate in engineering, but he has been a successful counsellor for decades now. AJ has made it possible for Malcolm to travel semi-regularly from Rotorua to Auckland to counsel me. Our first session at home was on the topic of ‘Mindfulness’. He is trying to teach me to struggle-less. To ‘notice’ rather than to say ‘no, no, no’. To use my breath to keep myself present, in my body, even when being present in my body is challenging, painful… but a primary focus for me, with Malcolm, was ensuring I have a professional ear, and voice, regarding the topic of mortality, of death, of preparing oneself for the process of managing time, so that I achieve everything possible before embracing my own mortality… in academia I am seen as a death specialist, this was the topic of my PhD, but I shall leave that topic and discussion of my mortality for another entry, on another day. Not today. Not yet. Too soon...
Cathryn. Our enchantress and other-world traveller of Tamakaimoana. Mummy to five wonderful young beings - one who lives with acute autism. Cath had arrived in our lives as the long-lost first-born child of Olly. At that time, she was 25, long haired, regal, and fervently searching for her roots. We were those roots, and from the outset she and I bonded as soul-siblings, and henceforth we have called each other brother/sister. Our ‘connection’ is indelible. She is an artist, writer, singer, business woman, entrepreneur, accounting whizz, and all-round nigh on perfect mummy. Like AJ and Olly, who jumped on planes and flew directly to tautoko/support us here in Auckland, Cath made quick arrangements for all the kids in the Hawkes Bay. Then she jumped in her car, drove direct to Auckland, and 7 hours later she arrived, swept in, and like the winds of Tawhirimatea, she softly, gently, smoothly bridged the differing levels of grief we were all feeling, and wove us, me, into a singular semblance of peaceful calm.
This is my core support team. They are my first line of defence. They care-give for me, they care-give amongst each other , and we care-give for each other. It is a holistic, self-aware, robust, care-giving system, of people locked in an empathic dance, cogs within cogs, and it all somehow works. When one of us is ‘low', another can step in. When Miri needs time out, she can disappear to Shakespeare Park, or any such location, on her own, set up her mobile camp site, get cockles and pipi and mussels to cook for her dinner, and commune with Papatūānuku, earth mother, for a night or two. This is how she re-energises herself, so that she’s fully recharged when she returns. Christo uses his tennis addiction to get time out, briefly, when possible, as well as any number of DIY jobs around the house, and of course his sons. This is how Christo plugs back in to reenergise. Cath, our enchantress, travels to her native hinterlands, Tamakaimoana, where the mountains are alive, the forests speak in tongues, the waterways are vibrant arterial routes that feed the sustenance of mauri throughout the body of Papatūānuku, Gaia, Mother Earth, and this is where she reenergises.
These are my sergeants at arms, my daily/weekly company as I travel this road, totteringly plodding, searching, before gallantly leaping aboard that roller-coaster and together we’re off again… these are the amazing lives who are making my life easier, one day at a time… I am blessed, and we are not alone.
TIM TAM MOMENTS with Mark, John-Boy, Joy, Tatiana, Tailah-Rei and Marie...
Mark: Saturday night one of my best mates ducked up from Hamilton and stayed the night, blobbing to Netflix, chillaxing. We have been 'bros' since University days... he was my rational thinking, guitar-strumming, chilled, laidback pal, who I could blob with, be a lad with, laugh, drink, talk rubbish with as well as world politics lol. His whole world revolves around his 7-year-old son Oliver, and his profession for now, but I hope, one day soon, he'll also find the right girl who he can settle down with, make a family with, make a grand life with. When news of my cancer arrived in his life he detached, briefly. Mark knows cancer in all its ugly manifestations, and he 'reacted' when he realized I had it... one of his best friends... dealing with an aggressive rapid form of cancer. That first night when he learned of my cancer he stayed a little while, before he suddenly got back in his car and returned to Hamilton, where he took several loud deep breaths, vented, huffed, puffed, bellowed, and roared, from a distance ... texting me all the while cos he was angry, hurt, confused '... how did this happen mate, why mate, when pal, I can't understand it mate...". Then just as suddenly, he was back in his car, returning to Auckland to say "I'm here pal, I'm here bud"... and my world righted again, grateful that my mate was back, to be a mate, and to go wherever the screwed up roller-coaster ride took us. The world righted again briefly, as I had a blood thinner (vodka and lemon squash) and he had juice and Tim Tams, having resolved at New Years to drink less.
John-Boy and Joy: I also had a glorious momentary reprieve from it all on Sunday when my cousins called in with their wonderful children Blake and Stella-Rose; their big brother Kobe, 14, was still in Sydney representing his Maori Football NZ Team. A week earlier they had all visited, but left a little shell-shocked after learning of my cancer diagnosis. Now they had returned, with Tim Tams, smiles and ready to kōrero. More importantly, they arrived to tell me they were here for me if I needed anything. They were a simple phone call or text away, or a quick drive in the car... and they wanted me to understand they were available to help, to talk with, laugh, or have a Tim Tam moment, or blood thinners if I wanted, they simply wanted to be engaged. I was utterly truly blown away by my beautiful young cousins, who hadn't dealt with cancer face-to-face before. They had full active lives, professional careers, vigorous sports and social lives, 3 amazing children... and here they were, literally saying "... thinking of you often... praying that u have more time. We have only just gotten to know and spend time with u and selfishly not done with spending time with u yet..." I am blessed.
Tatiana and Tailah-Rei: my charmed, witty, beautiful, polarising, magnificent cousin Tatiana and her stunning young daughter arrived Wednesday night after work, blood thinners at hand. They curled up in the armchairs, warm, smiling, a drink at hand, and ready to talk in that intimate hallowed sacrosanct way, about cancer and our family. Tatiana's mother and my mother are first cousins, borne of a descent line of 12 siblings; the children of our great grandparents. At University I had studied Anthropology and Religious Studies, while Honey (my name for Tatiana) did Psychology and Maori Studies. We loved our disciplines, and our conversations are always multi-level, intense, contrasting, and complementary. Now here we were talking about our family, our aunts, uncles, elders and the shockingly high incidences of cancer. It had been present in the family to a much much larger extent then even I had imagined. So, we talked, reminisced, cried, remembered, laughed, remembered... it was a beautiful powerful evening, talking of family and cancer and love and death vigils... we will be doing this regularly. Tatiana is normalising these’connection times, making it ‘ok’ to regularly imbibe with cookies and kōrero… breathing love, and calm, and whanaungatanga, into the downstairs studio space where cancer pervades unbiased.
NZ CANCER SOCIETY:
As an aside, I can't praise and commend the NZ Cancer Society Volunteers enough. They are true exemplars of unknown friends, who arrive like unconditional loving angels, ready to lift us, the patients, to our feet when our own wings have trouble remembering how to fly.
I had a volunteer driver take me to a radiation treatment, and her name was Marie. Immaculately dressed, beaming a smile of confidence, and tranquillity. She looked so much younger than her actual 83 years (which she revealed on the return trip home). A mother of 3 grown children, as well as grandchildren, and great grandchildren, Marie was now in her twilight years, comfortably settled with her 3rd, and last husband, as she had resolved. Sadly, 18 years ago, when she was the sprightly age of 65, her then 2nd husband had been diagnosed with cancer, and was tragically dead two weeks later. Then, five months after burying him, she was being rushed in to surgery because of an aggressive bowel cancer that was determined to take her life. That was 18 years ago, and here she was, mesmerising Marie, on my doorstep, radiating tranquillity and confidence as she drove me to the hospital and back again. She quietly but passionately made it clear to me that if she could survive an aggressive bowel cancer, than anyone could. I was hesitant to believe her, scared maybe to have hope borne of an absolute stranger... but as her stories unfolded, I found myself in awe of her. Her marriages, children, and her determination to ‘pay it all back’ as a volunteer. She also told me how a very dear friend from many years earlier had decided to 'set his eyes on her', and he courted her for several years. Then, during a visit to New York, he drew her attention to a small Wall Street Jewellery Shop window, where wedding rings were beautifully laid out. She capitulated, and months later, on a sunny spring afternoon she was guided down a small traditional NZ country church aisle by two of her tall strapping grandsons (28 and 30) and led to her eagerly waiting betrothed. Since then she has continued to voluntarily work with the NZ Cancer Society helping to coordinate Daffodil Day alongside her husband. All recipients of her gifts of volunteering are blessed.
I am blessed
Every day is different.
Every day brings something new, sometimes someone new.
I am blessed.
Friends and family.
So, blessed.
