When I was told about my first Stage IV head and neck cancer, one surgeon suggested I had a choice – have surgery to remove the cancer with ‘no guarantees’ or take a one-way flight to Rio de Janeiro, check in at the Copacabana Palace, immerse myself in the samba-driven carnival of excess and dance till dawn.
Tough choice. If the cancer was going to get me then why not bow out disgracefully?
But instead of wandering through the streets of Copacabana sloshed on cachaça and caipirinha, I opted for surgery and 15hrs of anaesthetic instead.
Bonkers? Perhaps.
Rio might have been one hell of a way to go but there was a carnival atmosphere and bloody violence waiting for me in Theatre 2 and there was a half-decent chance of me coming out the other side. Yes, I swapped a glitzy dinner in the Michelin-starred Ristorante Hotel Cipriani for a feeding tube and a tracheostomy.
In my heart of hearts, I know going to Rio wasn’t necessary. Life itself is a spectacle to be embraced and I didn’t need to max out my credit card to enjoy the benefits.
Being on this planet is a full-time Rio Festival but some us haven’t grasped that yet – we are already walking the carnival and we are surrounded by a cacophony of colours and sounds.
Okay, I don’t meet many people adorned with feathers and glitter dancing with primal energy at my local Co-op (although I have heard that this does happen down the middle aisles of Lidl).
But the people around me are pulsating with life, just not in the same way. They might not be bouncing through the streets but I can bet you a sack full of diamonds that many of them are celebrating being alive. I certainly am.
The carnival we are all immersed in is about celebrating life with vibrant energy and overcoming difficulties.
Life as a cancer patient is never a straight forward affair. Do you do the things you said you never would have the nerve to do or just carry on in the same way. Yes, I’d like to go to the actual Rio Festival but there are other things I’d like to do more.
There is the temptation to go an buy a dozen buckets and fill them all with the things you want to do before you pop off. But to be honest, who has the time? Even if you lived to be 120 years old, you’d struggle to complete bucket number 1.
The day is always thick with anticipation. I’ve always had this feeling both pre-cancer, post-cancer and also in-the-thick-of-it cancer.
The day is exciting even when it’s not. What I mean is, ordinary can go that bit extra in a heartbeat and none of us know when or if that will happen.
When you’ve had a health scare or you’re living with one right now, every hour is happy hour. Living is carnival time. You are already on the float. You are already part of the biggest party in the world. You are the glitter!
If you are mesmerised by your own life and enjoy actually being here, sure go to Rio and do your thing but the real carnival is right inside you. When you realise that, it’s time to celebrate and you can do that anywhere!