Lucky living.

David Callaghan
Sep 5, 2018 · 3 min read

This time last week I didn’t know the name Rachael Bland. And was completely oblivious the name would have any affect on me at all. Well, what a profound difference a week really does make.

I don’t remember being moved by a story as much as I have after hearing this one. I read about Rachael Monday, her last tweet where she casually and graciously admits she only has days to live following her doctor’s diagnosis in May that her cancer was incurable.

And today, she died. Just like that. Shocking. Even when I’ve heard stories of people announcing they only have days, weeks or months left to live, the optimist in me always thinks “nah, they’re gonna be alright, they’ll come out and say they’ve been misdiagnosed, or it’s actually not as bad as they thought”.

But this time it completely caught me by surprise. So abrupt, so sudden, so bloody young. 40 is no age to die. She was only just starting and had so much more to offer the world and her family. It actually made me stop in my tracks and realise whatever I was doing at that exact time, whatever I was worrying about, whatever deadline I needed to hit, all pales in comparison to the bigger picture: life is short.

I’m getting more considered and sad in my old age. I’m saying this at 29, so god knows what I’m gonna be like a decade from now. I just couldn’t help but feel such sadness for the situation, for Rachael’s husband, their five-year-old son, for Rachael herself, who dealt with cancer so head on and boldly.

It shouldn’t take such a drastic and sorrowful story to make me realise how lucky I am, how lucky we all are. I have a roof over my head, a fantastic beard, a future wife and a wonderful family. That’s more than most. But still I moan and complain, become frustrated with the lack of finance/hair/time in my life. But what right do I have, I’m here aren’t I?

You’d all be lying if you said the little things in life didn’t piss you off: traffic, slow walkers, a bombardment of emails, neighbours, the hot weather, the cold weather, and most importantly, Gayle or David Platt from Corrie. Either are equally as infuriating as each other. But what do they really, really matter in the grand scheme of things? Absolutely nothing.

It is so easy, too easy, to take everything we have for granted. Our families, friends, partners, jobs. We have no control over anything: we’re born, we live, we die, it’s pretty simple. But the middle bit of that cycle shouldn’t see us waste time on trivial, ridiculous things that we consider a big deal, but are not even on the same page as to what we could potentially be faced with.

We have no idea, none of us do. And it’s so easier said than done, as I’ll wake up tomorrow, jump in the car and berate drivers left right and centre for getting in MY way and stopping ME get to MY work. But I’m gonna do my best to stop, think, smile, and consider that driver and what they could potentially be going through. We collectively have no clue what tomorrow will even bring, so why don’t we try and have a laugh, joke and figure it out together, ay? We should be grateful we even have a tomorrow. Rachael hasn’t.

David Callaghan

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