We must refuse to be at the mercy of a neoliberal society besotted with fascism

Since 2020, I have counted the passage of time in medical procedures, operations and scans I've undergone for cancer, heart disease and newly discovered illnesses. An MRI, 3 colonoscopies, 9 CT scans, a rectal ultrasound, 10 radiation treatments, a low anterior resection of my bowel to remove a cancerous tumour, three heart stress tests, 1 lung function test for interstitial lung disease, a pending MRI for a torn rotator cuff and blood work too often to count.

All this prodding, probing, irradiating, cutting and palpating didn't take to me like water off a duck's back. It was life-altering physically and emotionally. Sure, I am alive, and there is much consolation in that. But like the trapeze artist who earns his living on the high wire without a net, I am feeling a strong breeze pick up.

So far, this voyage through ill health has been unnerving, humiliating, terrifying and sardonically hilarious.

There is a monotony to illness and its treatments that include so many tests to check the progress of the disease or whether it has been eliminated or is still kept firmly on a leash. This uncertainty of whether you get to be here for a while longer creates a fair amount of weariness, depression, fatigue, anger, self-pity and- many times denial through wishful thinking.

I am still in my Horatio Nelson, "I see no ships" phase- when it comes to my demise. This week, I ignored my curiosity when a ping on my phone informed me I could check on the results of my most recent CT scan to assess the progress of fibrosis killing my lungs.

I don't want to know just yet. You see, this disease always ends with the need for a coffin. Pulmonary Fibrosis finished off my neighbour who lives above me the week before last.

Dodgy lungs like fighting for the underdog is a long standing family trait. My brother, aunt, distant relatives and father all had their own variant of this killer, which took their breath away.

I won't get to be long in the tooth with this disease because there are too many wild cards against me: poverty, other comorbidities, and the elephant that won't leave the room, COVID-19. There is also a real possibility that we are on the cusp of World War. So, I am not confident that anyone will get to experience old age like it was done during the age of the social safety net.

I am not afraid of dying. I am terrified of existing in a state of incapacity that will come with the end stages of this disease. I refuse to be at the mercy of a neoliberal society besotted with fascism when my stage of dying becomes real.

Tenderness is a now a rarity in our society because the entitled murdered the Welfare State and used its corpse as a concierge service for the whims and profits of the 1%.

I refuse to have the same death that thousands of working poor senior citizens endured at the onset of COVID-19 if they resided in for-profit LTC homes. They died miserably, alone in filth and fear because our governments put profits before the lives of ordinary people. I won't let anyone, any ideology, any hedge fund, any centrist or fascist- make me go that way.

Civilised society doesn't exist like it once did, and what's left will expire long before I do.

I put off reading my CT report because I want to savour my ignorance of what tomorrow will bring me- for a while longer. I will know soon enough because my specialist will inform me in September about how long I can live to fight another day.

In the meantime, I'll be 61 in October. I am pleased with what I have done with my life. I have loved and been loved.

It's all gravy now. Still, I must work hard to finish the tasks I've set to keep my dad's legacy alive when I'm dead. I am so proud of it because what I did alongside him is my David.

You have all been a great help in keeping the flame alive. In the almost 6 years since Dad died, I've made much progress considering the obstacles I have faced. The Green and Pleasant Land edits are nearly complete, and it looks like it will be finished by the end of September. My book, Standing with Harry, is done. Eventually, it will find a publisher because the writing is good. Its themes of grief, fathers and sons, caregiving, sacrifice, loyalty, dysfunction, mental illness and socialism are relevant. I hope, over the next two years, to produce a book of my brother Peter's artwork because he created paintings, wood carvings and lithographs that deserve to be remembered and enjoyed.

Beyond being a keeper of that Last Stand legacy, I scratch much pleasure, even joy, from my existence.

I am very pessimistic about the future, mine, yours, and society's. But there is optimism or perhaps stubbornness in getting up every morning, determined to finish the job I started with my father all those years ago. But I am not alone in that pursuit of trying to persevere and persist despite obstacles because all you are doing the same in your lives.

Your subscriptions are so important to my personal survival because like so many others who struggle to keep afloat, my survival is a precarious daily undertaking. The fight to keep going was made worse- thanks to getting cancer along with lung disease and other co- morbidities which makes life more difficult to combat in these cost of living crisis times. So if you can join with a paid subscription which is just 3.50 a month or a yearly subscription or a gift subscription. I am offering a 20% reduction in a yearly subscription to ensure my prescriptions can be purchased today. One new subscriber covers that cost. I have also added a tip jar if you are so inclined. I promise the content is good, relevant and thoughtful. But if you can’t it all good too because I appreciate we are in the same boat. Take Care, John