![]() ![]() It moves between its subjects, using the writer's illness reflexively, leading into description of the things most important to her. It's not a memoir of dying, although it is about illness and treatment, and the impossibility of saying goodbye. ![]() First, her series of columns for The Saturday Paper, The Unwelcome Guest, and next, her new book, The Museum of Words, published later this month by Scribe. In those months, after the operation, during chemotherapy and radiation, and in the very brief respite she had from treatment, she wrote almost continuously. As Georgia writes, "if this were fiction, I would say it was too far-fetched". It was not a story that made any sense it had already used up all its right to drama. In hospital, she had brain surgery and a diagnosis: glioblastoma, the same tumour that Rosie had. A month after this, Georgia herself had a seizure in her backyard in Marrickville. Georgia was not sure what she would say to Rosie. ![]() And we reached the decision I'm sure Georgia had already reached without me – that she should go forward. People came and went from the tables around us. I'm speeding across the surface of this long, complex conversation, in which we circled the problem, always returning to Georgia's devotion to Rosie and fear of hurting her. ![]() Grief, which Georgia was already too familiar with. ![]()
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