A Surreal Bus Trip

After my Repat experience I felt a darkness edge it's way into my thoughts, but I closed the door on it and was able to sleep well Tuesday night.  On Wednesday it was off to work as normal.  Heading back to work erased any hint of the gloom I had felt in the Daw Park labyrinth.

The students were enjoying 'Aquatics Week', meaning the Year 6 students would stay back with myself and a colleague (H) in the morning, whilst the Year 7 students would make the trip to the aquatics program at Port Noarlunga.  H and I would then take the Year 6 students to the beach later in the day.

At around 10am, I had a call coming in from my doctor.  Obviously I wouldn't normally take a call whilst I was teaching, but I was suddenly reminded of the potential significance of this phone call, and as I was 'team-teaching' I stepped out of the class for a moment and took the call.

Doctor: "......so can you come in this afternoon"
Me: "Ummm..no, sorry, I won't be able to get away from here today"
Doctor: "No, you need to come in this afternoon"

***BANG***<<PAUSE>>

Me: "OK...so are we talking about cancer?"
Doctor: "Yeah, let's talk about it this afternoon"

I made my way back into the classroom with quite a backlog of eager students wanting work proof-read or questions clarified.  I fired a small, but well understood, non-verbal gesture across the open double classroom to H, letting her know that I really appreciated her taking the whole group for the last 90 seconds and that I was fine, and that if I wasn't actually fine, I was at least fine to keep on as long as I had to.  She shot back an immediate reply over the top of a group of students vying for her attention.  She told me she knew I wouldn't just leave the classroom for a minute and a half to take a phone call unless it was something serious, so there was no thanks necessary, but she knew that I was not OK so we will talk later.

I told my first person, sort of.  I mumbled and gestured something about a lump in my neck.  I said enough to my deputy principal, and friend R, for him to get my afternoon release sorted.  I called back the doctor to confirm I would be there for the 1:30pm appointment, which she had kindly chiselled out her her full day schedule.

I raced back down to the coalface to assist H and the parent helpers to get the Year 6s ready for dispatch.  There had been a brief moment of questioning from H, but we were in the midst of the masses, so I kicked that can down the road.  I did try and call Alison, but as expected on a Wednesday, no answer. At 10:25am I followed up with a text message.

CANCER: What Do You Think of That and How Will it Change Your Life? - It was like a really good book - with really crappy subject matter - that you wanted to settle down in a quiet spot before you opened cover.  The book was brimming with thought provoking and unsettling ideas.  But I was not in a quiet spot.  I was sitting in the 14th row of a bus full of excited Year 6s, who I was responsible for as we headed to the beach. I decided to put that book back in my bag and covered it with a jumper.

H was at the front of the bus, non-verbal gestures were no use to us.  We exchanged texts.  My second person, a colleague, but also a good friend.  It was strange to watch the back of her head from 13 bus seats away as I knew she was reading the text. I recall going past Bensons Radiology on Dyson Rd and thinking I might be getting to know that place.  This was the foot in the door that a few more opportunistic thoughts used to get some airtime.  I got a bit dark from about Christies Beach Rd to just before the Port Noarlunga roundabout.

In that three minutes of darkness, I felt calm and powerful. I am writing this part of my journey retrospectively, and I have not had to face a terminal diagnosis, this was just a venture into the unknown for a few minutes.  I certainly can not claim to know how that must feel.

As we got off the bus I got ready to go surfing with the students - this is a DECD facility and duty of care is handled by the instructors.  I had brought a rubber glove and some tape to keep my fresh finger stitches dry.  Mucking around in the waves - which is what I call surfing - sounded like a great idea.  H however had a better, well not better, but more practical idea.  I could catch the Year 7 bus back to school and my colleague M could stay at the beach. A solid idea, as I was always going to be pushing it getting back from Pt Noarlunga in time for my 1:30pm appointment, and this also meant I could reverse my decision to decline the coffee she offered me earlier.  I did the trade with M, also a good friend, the third person I told.

By the time I got back, Alison had returned my text, and was leaving work to come to the appointment with me.