Kim loves you Ros and is in peace waiting for us for our next cliff trek, ice cream pigout or road trip!Watching from the SidelineTonight there is an orange moon.
Controlling what I cannot control.
The tides of the ocean.
The depth of my emotion.
********
Sometimes I feel like I am in the ocean - treading water. The blackness of the night blinds me to all but the silver ripples which reflect the moonlight like liquid mercury flowing over ink. Around me I can hear others, struggling. We are all needing, pleading, grabbing, panicking - thrashing violently. I can’t breathe. I want to save them… but I don’t feel strong enough. I swallow salted water, gagging on their tears, drowning in my own.
But this is not about me. It is not important how I feel. All that should matter, all that does matter - is her.
********
Round 1 - Ding!
She bursts onto the red and blue martial art mats as an animal bursts forth from a cage. Confident, determined and full of a primal energy. There is intensity in her eyes and a power in her stance. She is intimidating even from the sidelines and I don't envy her opponent. Kim is a fighter. She is exceptional and she doesn't lose.
She moves around the ring, sizing up her much larger adversary. She bares her teeth through her mouth guard and stares directly at the challenger. Her hunched shoulders and stooped steps belie the speed and grace of her taekwondo ability. With a thumping heart and breath held, I watch, expectant. She will soon unleash a flurry of perfectly placed, forceful kicks. I know she will score. I know she will win.
Kim is one of those people who think that it is more fun to slide down the snakes than to climb up the ladders. I think that I admire her. Maybe even idolise her. She has a strength that I would like to have. We go surfing together and approach the waves as differently as we seem to approach everything else in life. Kim races towards the water, eager for the release. She paddles out to where the guys are surfing and rides the largest wave in the set, completely fearless. I stand on the beach with my board feeling a bit like an impostor. I paddle out with difficulty and with gritted teeth I try to ignore the pain in my shoulders. I haven't mastered duck diving yet so get swallowed by every wave that comes at me. In the waves, I am a liability and stick to the white-water, away from everyone else. That is unless Kim calls me out. "Get out here you kook!" Then I'll paddle out to the line-up, cause it's one thing to be a kook but another entirely to be considered weak.
The sound of Kim claiming another point with a loud shout draws my attention back. Her hand pumps the air in a cocky gesture to show the judges that she knows that point was hers, as if daring them not to score it. She is in the lead, 4-0. Yet I look in her opponent's eyes and see none of the usual doubt, exhaustion or fear. There is a smirk glinting back at Kim and it makes my stomach lurch. Her opponent is obviously holding back.
Then it happens, before I can shout a warning. We hear the dull thud of foot connecting with skull as Kim receives a hard blow to the head. She stumbles backwards in a daze and falls to her knees. The ref is in – giving the count. I want to run to her, help her, protect her, and I have never felt like that towards Kim. She has never needed me before because I am the weaker one. But she is confused. The referee's hands cross in front of him as he signals that the round is over and that it went her opponents way. For the first time ever, I see fear in Kim's eyes.
Cancer is like that. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. When you feel completely invulnerable. And it can knock you out.
********
Round 2 - Ding!
The other day, Kim showed me what it feels like to fly. We were detouring through the farms to avoid the weekend tourist traffic that clogs the highway every Sunday like a tumour blocks the flow through a vein. It was one of those rare moments that created a precious memory. An experience that once bottled can be smelt, tasted and relived again and again. My left cheek was warm, caressed by the sun as it began to decline in the west. Kim sat beside me with a content smile on her face and her eyes closed. Her window was wound down and her cropped, brown fluffy-duck hair lifted up and down as we cruised along. Mellow blues and roots music was playing. This was Kim's latest gift in her ongoing attempt to rescue me from my previous apparent music disasters like Justin Timberlake.
Turning to me calmly she said, "wind down your window and stick your hand out… this is what it must feel like to fly." She moved her arm like a snake, up and down - cupping the air.
Mimicking, I immediately felt an updraft of air lift my hand. Invisible and cool currents formed as the speed of the car broke through the air, picking up our hands and arms like solid platforms that raise you up and then drop you. Only the fall is short as the next one catches you. Spreading my fingers my skin tingled and the sensation made me feel alive. It was a shared moment that was tranquil and beautiful.
Shit she's brave. All it took were a few words of encouragement from her coach and Kim is refocused and determined to fight back. Sitting in her corner, she nods at the advice but her thoughts are internal. In the other corner her opponent seems neither tired nor weakened and if anything appears to have grown. Or is it that Kim has diminished? The physical changes of weight-loss, muscle aches, nauseousness and fatigue, all came so quickly after round one that it absolutely shocked me. When I saw her I froze. Everything stopped and I couldn't move or speak or register why the fittest person I knew looked much less healthy then me. I just hope that Kim didn't notice before I recovered and put on the bubbly, 'nothing is different' act. But even in her physically weakened state it is clear that Kim hasn't lost hope. I think that most people would have thrown in the towel by now. Maybe it is because she is only twenty-three and the thought of ultimate defeat is foreign to her.
As the round began, I prayed and pleaded silently to whatever or whoever might be listening. "Give her any strength that I have, help her to win. Don't let her get hurt any more." Maybe someone was listening because Kim started off well. As her opponent rushed in she defended with a back-swing kick and scored the point. Her tactics have become less offensive now and more defensive. She deflects her attacker time and again. The fight seems even and maybe Kim is slowly gaining an edge. The judges are scanning the fighters for signs of flaws and her opponent is scanning her for weak-points. At one stage we celebrated as the scan showed that there wasn't any weakness left in her body. It looked like she had won. But then her opponent attacked unexpectedly to her mid-section, kicking her hard in the liver and kidney. Kim had lost another round.
********
Round 3 – Ding!
Kim needs me. I know she needs me. I have to be there for her so I push through the crowd rudely with my elbows desperate to be there and to not let her down. I will sit next to her for as long as it takes.
One of the judges enters Kim's corner with some students who are learning to be judges themselves. "This is competitor 341" he states matter-of-factly, indicating Kim with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Competitor 341 has been beaten in two rounds now and sustained injuries to her adrenal gland, right kidney, liver, main leg vein, head and immune system. This is a fascinating fight as it is very rare to see points scored against such a young competitor in these particular areas. The odds are that competitor 341 will lose." I want to punch the judge in the face. To scratch at his arrogant and uncaring eyes and scream at him that Kim has a name! That she is more than just a fighter! That she is my best friend! I am so angry, but I say nothing because as usual I am weak and intimidated and feel helpless.
I kneel beside Kim's chair and search in her eyes for some sign of hope. Some sign of her fighting spirit. But the tide of her blue eyes rises as she whispers, "it feels like no matter how hard I try, it doesn't make any difference. So why should I try any more?' Salt water engulfs my cheek as a wave crashes forth uncontrolled.
I am not a good friend. A good friend would have had something to say. A good friend wouldn’t have lost hope. Wouldn’t imagine what it would be like at the funeral – what it would be like to be the one pitied.
I don't know who is going to win this fight. The problem is - the outcome of taekwondo tournaments is not always fair. Judging is very subjective and often the best fighter and the most skilled player doesn't win. It is not the crowd favourite that usually stands victorious on the podium. Unfortunately it is normally the most aggressive. And no opponent is more aggressive or invasive then the one Kim faces. The problem is that she seems to be psyched out - to have given up. And I don't know what to say to her because I know that in her situation I would have given up long ago.
So while I try to believe, to inspire and to have hope… I remain scared. Realistically, the odds are that Kim wont win. But I try not to think about that. I just try to let her know that I will always be here - watching from the sideline.
by Ros Montefiore
