The worst happened yesterday. Not the worst, worst, but the thing I have feared most throughout my 26 year career as a freelance journalist. A magazine I have worked for regularly for 19 years has closed. I used to wake up in the early hours in a cold sweat dreading the day my writing work dried up and when it came, well, it wasn’t such a big drama.
It means change is coming. Now that I don’t have to write about soaps, I don’t need to watch them. Many hours of my time are freed up for other ventures. A crate of pop-up cards designed by moi arrived yesterday, I have some fresh new talent to agent and I have a meeting with a TV company tomorrow.
Overshadowing it all, was my dad’s latest oncology appointment. It wasn’t great news – the cancer has spread to his lung and liver, but the consultant reckoned that because my dad is otherwise fit and sprightly, it is worth giving palliative chemotherapy a go followed by immunotherapy. Pretty soon we will have another beautifully tabulated plan. Hurrah!
Dad’s pleased that he has the opportunity to put up a bit of a fight, but we are also realistic about the prognosis. There is no cure.
On some days, all this not-so-great news would fell me, but today, I feel strangely calm. I’m out with all the lovely ladies from my ballet class tonight and plan to laugh raucously over a few strawberry mojitos. I can think of worse ways to end the day.
I embrace change like a mighty badass.