It waited until after I'd showered, watched an episode of Orange is the New Black, painted my nails a lurid green, and taken the polish off after discovering it looked foul. By the time I called her back I was late for work.

Mum told me that she had some odd test results and that the doctors might have "found something". She told me she was frightened and that she didn't want to die.

I put aside my sense of dread and told her she was being silly. "People get odd test results all the time. And even if there is something they'll just remove it. Easy."

I went to work. I sat in a meeting. I realised with some detachment that the hatred I felt for the guy next to me clicking his pen was irrational.

My sister called. "They have the scan back. There's something in her liver."

I stared at the computer screen, trying to remember what the liver did. It sounded important.

I have an intense aversion to crying in public, and emailed my boss to let her know I needed to leave.

I explained that if she came over to talk to me about it or even glanced in my direction then I'd make the most horrible scene.

The smiley face at the end of my email was intended somewhere between a "Don't worry, it'll be fine!" and "Sorry for the inconvenience". Continue reading.

Louise Burston is an author, living in Wellington.

Source: The Wireless

Image: The Wireless

Empty handed I entered
The world
Barefoot I leave it
My coming, my going —
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.

Seigan paused outside one of the identical doors of the neurological unit, marked only with a number. He mulled over the words of the poem, letting them mingle, listening to their rhythm, refocusing. He was tired but not exhausted, nearing the end of his hospital shift. He straightened his dark scrubs and ran his hand over his clean-shaven head before adjusting his glasses.

As he entered the room he met a scent of flowers. The night lights of the city spilled in through the window and 57-year-old Cleo (as she was named in her hospital transcript), her head heavily bandaged, held out her hand to greet him. Her long, dark hair was streaked with grey and she lay propped up in her hospital bed.

"You're the Buddhist chaplain aren't you? I've been waiting for you," she said. "Please sit down. Do you have some time for me?"

"Of course," Seigan said, taking a seat next to her. "Tell me how you're doing, how you're feeling right now."

Cleo was admitted to the hospital after suffering a major seizure one day while doing her laundry. A brain biopsy a few weeks later revealed a glioblastoma, an aggressive and malignant form of brain cancer. The surgeon laid out the prognosis, cut and dried: she had less than three months to live. He urged her to go ahead with surgery and a chemotherapy follow-up. It would give her perhaps an extra nine months to a year, he said, but ultimately the cancer was terminal. Cleo explained how, despite her initial reaction to let nature take its course, she felt she should go ahead with the surgery for the sake of her 87-year-old mother, who was devastated by the diagnosis.

Seigan listened carefully.

"Can I challenge you for a little bit?" he asked. "What do you really want?" Continue reading

Sources

• The Atlantic
• Image: Sir Tony Baldry

On the contrary, said Vatican spokesman Father Federico Lombardi, Benedict XVI "does not have any illness" and "this has been certified by his doctors".

The report in El Mundo quoted Spanish Vaticanista Paloma Gomez-Borrero as saying:
"Benedict XVI has something very serious. In 15 days his physical condition has deteriorated tremendously, that's the news I have."

Continue reading

The cardinal had told BBC Radio 5 live that people who were abused as children and became paedophiles were not criminally responsible for their actions in the same way as somebody "who chooses to do something like that".

After victims' groups and others said the comments were insensitive, the South African cardinal apologised.

"I apologise sincerely and unreservedly to all who were offended by the botched interview, and especially to those who have been abused and need every help and support that the Church can give," he said in a statement.

"Child sexual abuse is a heinous crime among other things because of the damage it does to the child. In that concern I include the abused who has become an abuser."

In the BBC interview, Cardinal Napier spoke of two priests he knew who were abused as children and went on to become paedophiles.

He said: "Don't tell me that those people are criminally responsible like somebody who chooses to do something like that.

"I don't think you can really take the position and say that person deserves to be punished when he was himself damaged."

The cardinal's comments brought immediate criticism from Barbara Dorries, who as a child was abused by a priest and now works for the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests in Chicago.

She told the BBC: "If it is a disease that's fine, but it's also a crime and crimes are punished, criminals are held accountable for what they did and what they do.

"The bishops and the cardinals have gone to great lengths to cover these crimes to enable the predators to move on, to not be arrested, to keep the secrets within the Church."

Sources:

Reuters

Daily Mail

Image: The New Age