One effect of my cancer diagnosis has been an intensification of my concern for the world. At a time when I imagined I might spend my days in quiet introspection, I find instead my whole body tensing in preparation to fight some injustice or other.

God, I am so angry.

My incurable (though so far treatable cancer) has occasionally forced me into a metaphorical departure lounge, where I contemplate the meaning of my life or mentally prepare for my death. And yet, the prospect of me not being in the world paradoxically, makes me care for it and want to fight for it more. I notice as I write this my pulse quickening. I know that some of the battles being waged will not be resolved in whatever is left of my lifetime. I find myself daydreaming about a future where I have left the stage so to speak. I find this a useful exercise in testing where you might wish your impact to be whether in life or work. “What do I care if the country goes to the dogs?” argued one old miserabilist I exchanged views with, “I’ll be dead.” And yet that’s exactly why the fight still energises me. For once, it is not only my self-interest being served though I’m reluctant to claim I’m motivated by something more transcendent.

Grumpy

As my ‘skin in the game’ loosens somewhat, this grumpy old woman is handing over the baton. And yet, I still want to be in the thick of the debates that will shape the future, even as part of me moves towards the periphery of life.

Though I have struggled with debilitating side-effects of cancer treatment, I can always muster enough drive to gather evidence and craft an argument to address whatever injustice piques my rage. And I do this with a sense of freedom that borders on recklessness.

I’m too well dragged up to indulge in ad hominem attacks on political opponents, but I won’t hesitate to enter an argument even if the numbers are stacked heavily against me. It’s like Atticus says in one of my favourite books, To Kill A Mockingbird, “The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.” I have been on the wrong side politically speaking for most of my life: Mrs Thatcher, Brexit and lately Donald Trump.

Energy 

I know that anger can be a cover for unexpressed sadness and grief. It can be an energy without focus. But I also know in my bones that my anger is about life and love, it rises at the hint of injustice and cruelty and roars. I feel these things so sharply since cancer has removed a layer of my emotional defences, exposing me to greater pain and joy. Strangely without those defences, I am stronger.

So for now, I will give my anger reign and to hell with the consequences.
What were you saying about taxing the rich less?