Kim died yesterday from secondary (metastatic is the formal term) cancers, which popped up just after she had celebrated five years of good health after treatment for breast cancer.
Metastatic breast cancer was one of the things we had in common. She was also a former journalist, an extreme cat lover and had been romantially involved with my brother (oh no, that's not something we had in common, because that would be terribly wrong).
Kim was an utter hoot, the master of the one-liner. She spent a lot of time online, developing a pool of genuine friends any of us would envy. She had more than 800 friends on Facebook and on hearing of her death, these people flooded the site with their condolences. Genuine, caring friends (many of whom she had met in person) who, if not for being scattered all around the globe, would have flocked to attend her funeral in Dunedin in a couple of days.
Kim had an operation to remove a cancerous brain tumour last summer, just a little after I'd had the same operation. The operations left us both a bit 'wonky', especially in typing, and I remember her puzzlement when one of my messages to her ended in the words, "lots of lobe."
While she was open, funny and upbeat to her friends, she also suffered anxious times, sad times and loneliness. Her health declined very quickly this week, minimising her pain and suffering.
Cancer is a stink disease and I implore anyone reading this to put their own health at the top of their 'to do' list and have regular checks. Yes it's boring, expensive and sometimes unpleasant, but cancer is all of those things, and more.
Kim lead an on-line singalong among her friends each Monday morning. If feeling sick, she'd just "la la laa" so people could chose their own song. Many of her friends were older than her, so she'd chose classic songs everyone knew.
I'm choosing Coldplay's "Scientist" for my singalong for her. God bless, dear Kim.
"Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No-one ever said it would
be this hard..."
