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‘We are only passing through’: stories about memory, mortality and the effort of being alive

<p>Chris Flynn’s <a href="https://www.uqp.com.au/books/here-be-leviathans">Here Be Leviathans</a> is a collection of short stories that seems quirky and light-hearted, propelled by its creative use of perspective. Each story is established from a surprising vantage point and so the world as Flynn imagines it becomes topsy-turvy – anything at all might be alive and sentient. Animals, chairs, boats, you name it.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Review: Here Be Leviathans – Chris Flynn (UQP) and The Tower – Carol Lefevre (Spinifex)</em></p> <hr /> <p>A bear eats a teenager, and thus inherits the boy’s memories. An airplane seat describes its last day at work. A hotel room observes its favourite couple, who return over the years. A monkey details a trip into outer space. But these stories are driven by more than quirky inspiration.</p> <p>The point-of-view might offer an interesting hook, and Flynn’s tone may be jaunty at times, but the stories are propelled by deeper themes of mortality, death and existential pointlessness. Flynn uses perspective to reflect and question the way we think about things.</p> <h2>Memory and mortality</h2> <p>Many of the characters in this collection die, have died or are about to die – but there’s also a counter-theme of connection. The bear may eat the teenager, and so the ranger is hunting him down; we enter a hide-and-seek game for survival. But it’s the connection the bear and ranger have, the mutual respect they share, that becomes the message of the first story, Inheritance.</p> <figure class="align-right zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=237&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=896&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=896&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=896&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1126&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1126&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497560/original/file-20221128-26-5t8y8o.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1126&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a><figcaption></figcaption></figure> <p>Flynn also explores ideas of memory transference, and this imbues the story with lingering, thoughtful hope: something that pervades the whole collection. In Flynn’s world, death can be a means to existence – as long as our memories keep living, our experiences and perspectives continue to exist.</p> <p>Flynn’s use of unexpected points of view allows him to avoid the sentimental. In 22F, he tells the story of an airplane seat abandoned in the jungle and we’re left with the superb image of moss growing up and over the upholstery, claiming the seat for the natural domain. We learn about the seat’s history, the work-politics of neighbouring seats, and observations of the passengers who have sat in them. We see glimpses of these human cargoes that simultaneously show the banality and profundity of life.</p> <p>The collection took Flynn ten years to write, and he includes notes at the end about his process and the stories’ origins. For instance, he describes how 22F was inspired by the Werner Herzog documentary <a href="https://letterboxd.com/film/wings-of-hope/">Wings of Hope</a>, which interviewed Juliane Koepcke, the sole survivor of a 1971 airplane crash. Together, Herzog and Koepcke journey to the site of the crash and find parts of the airplane in the jungle. Flynn says the story is about:</p> <blockquote> <p>Memory and place. A reminder that we are only passing through and that everything is part of something larger.</p> </blockquote> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=400&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=400&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=400&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=503&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=503&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497575/original/file-20221128-21-v71muf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=503&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a><figcaption><span class="caption">One of Chris Flynn’s stories is told from the perspective of an airplane seat abandoned in the jungle.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Leslie Cross/Unsplash</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span></figcaption></figure> <p>The importance of memory and place is further explored in the story A Beautiful and Unexpected Turn, where we follow the perspective of a hotel room that takes a special interest in its guests, Diane and Hector. We see the waxing and waning and waxing of their relationship. At the end, the room says:</p> <blockquote> <p>We are places of passage, of transience […] Eventually, I would be demolished, perhaps to make way for another hotel or an apartment block, or nothing […] I would become rubble, and then dust.</p> </blockquote> <p>This could be the larger message of the book – our lives are transient and then we become dust. The connections we experience and inspire are what give us meaning in the moment.</p> <h2>Complications of care</h2> <p>Carol Lefevre’s <a href="https://www.spinifexpress.com.au/shop/p/9781925950625">The Tower</a> also emphasises place. This thoughtful collection of short stories is very different from Flynn’s in tone and focus, but it too grounds storytelling in the themes of place and mortality.</p> <figure class="align-left zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=237&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=928&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=928&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=928&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1166&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1166&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497573/original/file-20221128-14-p18sux.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1166&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a><figcaption></figcaption></figure> <p>The Tower is structured around a series of interlocking narratives about Dorelia MacCraith – in the very first story, after losing her husband Geordie, she sells her house and buys a new one, with a tower. Her children, who she does not consult, are suspicious of this defiant act.</p> <p>Straight away, the reader is thrust into the negotiations and complications of care. People who Dorelia once cared for are now asserting (or trying to assert) forms of reverse care. And many stories in the collection reverberate with related themes – women caring for children and partners and parents, or making decisions about their positions as carers, especially in the context of trying (or deciding not) to have children.</p> <p>The interconnected stories about Dorelia and her tower are the centrepiece of the collection. Yet Dorelia finds this house of her own by accident, when driving her dear friend and fellow artist Elizabeth Bunting to an appointment:</p> <blockquote> <p>they took a wrong turn, and then another, until at the end of the a quiet cul-de-sac, set among sheltering trees, stood the most adorable house […] and above the porch rose a small tower.</p> </blockquote> <p>I appreciate that it is the women’s friendship – their spark of connection and humour are immediate and inviting – that enables Dorelia to find her tower oasis. I also appreciate that this critical act occurs during a moment of generosity and care: Dorelia is driving Elizabeth to an appointment.</p> <p>While Dorelia may find her tower by accident, we never feel Lefevre is accidental in rendering the lives of these women on the page. The prose is carefully controlled, as is the detail and world-building – and the deeper reflections of the stories kaleidoscope through one another, building in nuanced ways.</p> <h2>Reimagining the crone</h2> <p>Of course, symbolic permutations resonate throughout this text – a tower of one’s own harks to <a href="https://theconversation.com/skin-and-sinew-and-breath-and-longing-reimagining-the-lives-of-queer-artists-and-activists-from-sappho-to-virginia-woolf-184459">Virginia Woolf</a> and Rapunzel. Dorelia reimagines the crone from the Rapunzel <a href="https://theconversation.com/reader-beware-the-nasty-new-edition-of-the-brothers-grimm-34537">fairy tale</a> as central and heroic.</p> <p>This rewriting and revision of the crone – and her motives and backstory – seems key to recognising women’s narratives more generally, and prioritising a multiplicity of stories and experiences within the Australian literary canon. In this sense, it feels like Lefevre is in conversation with authors such as Drusilla Modjeska, <a href="https://theconversation.com/intellectual-fearlessness-politics-and-the-spiritual-impulse-the-remarkable-career-of-amanda-lohrey-187354">Amanda Lohrey</a> and Charlotte Wood.</p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=319&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=319&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=319&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=401&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=401&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/496662/original/file-20221122-23-obj24f.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=401&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a><figcaption><span class="caption">The main, recurring narrator of The Tower reimagines the crone from the Rapunzel fairytale as central and heroic.</span></figcaption></figure> <p>In <a href="https://theconversation.com/tarot-resurgence-is-less-about-occult-than-fun-and-self-help-just-like-throughout-history-139448">tarot</a> mythology, the card of The Tower considers the collapse of old structures. We get a sense of this in the reflexivity of the text, as well as in its story-world – as Dorelia faces life without her husband Geordie. Indeed, old age itself collapses life as she’s known it. The interplay between the textual and the intertextual resonates in this collection, making this book as enjoyable to later ponder as it was to actually read.</p> <p>Here Be Leviathans and The Tower are two very different short-story collections to consider in tandem. They vary in voice, tone and style. Yet both engage with the precariousness and effort that is at the foundation of being alive, and making meaning from our short time on the planet.<!-- Below is The Conversation's page counter tag. Please DO NOT REMOVE. --><img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/193628/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /><!-- End of code. If you don't see any code above, please get new code from the Advanced tab after you click the republish button. The page counter does not collect any personal data. More info: https://theconversation.com/republishing-guidelines --></p> <p><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/shady-cosgrove-153726">Shady Cosgrove</a>, Associate Professor, Creative Writing, <em><a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-wollongong-711">University of Wollongong</a></em></p> <p>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/we-are-only-passing-through-stories-about-memory-mortality-and-the-effort-of-being-alive-193628">original article</a>.</p> <p><em>Image: Getty</em></p>

Retirement Life

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Jane Fonda's "realistic" views on her own mortality

<p>Jane Fonda has revealed why she feels "ready" to die, just months after her cancer diagnosis. </p> <p>The 84-year-old actress said that people her age need to be “realistic” about their mortality, and should “be aware of the amount of time that is behind you as opposed to in front you”.</p> <p data-t="{&quot;n&quot;:&quot;blueLinks&quot;}">She told <a tabindex="0" href="https://www.etonline.com/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" data-t="{&quot;n&quot;:&quot;destination&quot;,&quot;t&quot;:13,&quot;b&quot;:1,&quot;c.t&quot;:7}">Entertainment Tonight </a>that she’s “aware” she is “not going to be around for much longer”, adding that she is “ready” as she has “had a great life”.</p> <p data-t="{&quot;n&quot;:&quot;blueLinks&quot;}">“Not that I want to go, but I’m aware that it’s going to be sooner rather than later,” she added, stating, “That’s just realistic.”</p> <p data-t="{&quot;n&quot;:&quot;blueLinks&quot;}">In September, Fonda revealed she had been diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, which <span style="caret-color: #2b2b2b; color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Roboto, Arial, Sans-sarif; font-size: 17px; background-color: #ffffff;">is a type of </span>cancer<span style="caret-color: #2b2b2b; color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Roboto, Arial, Sans-sarif; font-size: 17px; background-color: #ffffff;"> that begins in the lymphatic system, a part of the body’s immune system dedicated to fighting germs.</span></p> <p data-t="{&quot;n&quot;:&quot;blueLinks&quot;}">She wrote on Instagram, “This is a very treatable cancer. Eighty per cent of people survive, so I feel very lucky. I’m also lucky because I have health insurance and access to the best doctors and treatments. I realise, and it’s painful, that I am privileged in this.”</p> <p data-t="{&quot;n&quot;:&quot;blueLinks&quot;}">Fonda said that she would undergo six months of chemotherapy and that, so far, she has been “handling the treatments quite well”.</p> <p data-t="{&quot;n&quot;:&quot;blueLinks&quot;}"><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p>

Caring

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Mortali-tea! Black tea drinking linked to lower risk of dying

<p>The health benefits of green tea are well-established, but black tea might be a good idea too, according to a new analysis.</p> <p>The study, published in Annals of Internal Medicine, draws on data from nearly half a million people to find a link between black tea drinking and lower mortality risk.</p> <p>The researchers, who are based at the US National Institute of Health, examined data from the long-term UK Biobank study, which tracked a cohort of 502,488 UK residents aged between 40 and 69.</p> <p>Between 2006 and 2010, participants in this study regularly logged a range of lifestyle, and health-related information via touchscreens at assessment centres. This information included tea drinking, by number of cups per day.</p> <p>Among the 498,043 participants who logged tea-drinking information, 85% reported regularly drinking tea. Nearly a fifth of participants (19%) reported drinking more than six cups of tea per day.</p> <p>A separate survey of a smaller cohort of participants suggested that 89% of the tea drinkers drank black tea, while 7% drank green tea.</p> <p>According to the UN, the UK consumes around 100,000 tonnes of tea each year – or about 1.5 kilograms per person.</p> <p>The American researchers combined the tea-drinking information in the UK with mortality data.</p> <p>Once they’d adjusted for age and demographics, they found that participants who drank at least two cups of tea per day had a 9-13% lower risk of dying.</p> <p>Drinking 2-3 cups per day was associated with the lowest mortality risk, but even drinking 10 or more cups was linked to a lower mortality risk than drinking no tea at all.</p> <p>In their paper, the researchers say that their findings reflect similar studies based in China and Japan, where green tea is much more common than black.</p> <p>“Fewer studies have assessed tea intake and mortality in populations where black tea is predominantly consumed, such as in the United States and Europe, and results have varied across studies,” write the researchers.</p> <p>They point out, however, that they didn’t track some “potentially important aspects” like tea strength or cup size, making it harder to draw precise conclusions.</p> <p>While the study is observational and thus can’t establish a cause, the researchers point out that the polyphenols and flavonoids in black tea have been linked to a variety of health benefits in small randomized-control trials – including lower cholesterol, and a lower risk of carcinogenesis and type 2 diabetes.</p> <p>“These findings provide reassurance to tea drinkers and suggest that black tea can be part of a healthy diet,” write the researchers.</p> <p><strong>This article originally appeared in <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/health/black-tea-mortality-risk/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cosmosmagazine.com</a> and was written by Ellen Phiddian.</strong></p> <p><em>Image: Shutterstock</em></p>

Body

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Cancer mortality has fallen in Australia

<div class="copy"> <p>Cancer is becoming less deadly in Australia, according to the most recent biennial large-scale analysis.</p> <p>The Australian Institute for Health and Welfare (AIHW) has released its <a rel="noreferrer noopener" href="https://www.aihw.gov.au/reports-data/health-conditions-disability-deaths/cancer/reports" target="_blank">biennial report</a> on cancer in Australia, synthesising data on Australian cancers up to the year 2017.</p> <p>It finds that survival rates from cancer are continuing to improve, as they have done since the 1980s, and that the number of cancer diagnoses per 100,000 people has continued to fall from its peak in 2008.</p> <p>Nevertheless, the report also predicts that in 2021 alone, roughly 150,000 Australians will be diagnosed with some form of cancer and 49,000 will die. The authors also estimate that, due to our ageing and growing population, there is likely to be 185,000 cancer diagnoses per year in Australia by 2031.</p> <p>“The estimates for 2021 presented in the report are based on actual data up to the end of 2017. They don’t take into account potential health service disruptions due to COVID-19, but are still useful for identifying trends in cancer cases in Australia,” says AIHW spokesperson Justin Harvey.</p> <p>Cancer diagnosis peaked at 508 cases per 100,000 Australians in 2008, and is now at 486 cases per 100,000 (excluding <a rel="noreferrer noopener" href="https://www.cancer.org.au/cancer-information/types-of-cancer/non-melanoma-skin-cancer" target="_blank">non-melanoma skin cancers</a>, which are more common and typically much less serious than other forms of cancer). This decline is mostly due to improvements in prostate cancer diagnosis, with other forms of cancer diagnosis remaining stable.</p> <p>The death rate from cancer, however, has continued to fall, with overall five-year mortality rates dropping from 49% in 1988-1992, to 30% in 2013-2017. According to the report, there is a number of reasons for this – including a population-wide decrease in smoking, improved early detection methods, and the availability of better treatments.</p> <p>“Changes in survival rates over time varied by cancer type, with the largest survival improvements seen in prostate cancer, kidney cancer, multiple myeloma, non-Hodgkin lymphoma and tongue cancer,” says Harvey.</p> <p>“While many cancers have high rates of survival, people diagnosed with cancers such as pancreatic cancer, lung cancer and mesothelioma have a less than one-in-five chance, on average, of surviving at least five years after diagnosis.”</p> <p>Rare and less common cancers (including cancer of the stomach, liver, bladder and brain) are also deadlier, accounting for 30% of diagnoses in 2017 but 42% of deaths.</p> <p>Cancer is still more deadly for men than it is for women, but this is beginning to equalise, with the male mortality rate falling faster than the female mortality rate.</p> <p>While it’s good news that the death and diagnosis rates are falling, the AIHW report stresses that there is still much work to be done on cancer prevention and treatment. Just under half (42%) of the cancer burden can be attributed to behavioural factors like smoking, and the cancer burden does not fall evenly among Australians.</p> <p>Indigenous Australians are 14% more likely to be diagnosed with cancer and 20% less likely to survive at least five years after diagnosis. People living in the regions are more likely to be diagnosed with cancer, with increasing remoteness tied to decreasing survival chances. And people in the most socioeconomically disadvantaged areas are 5% less likely to be diagnosed with cancer than those in areas with the highest socioeconomic status, but 40% more likely to die from it.</p> <p>The AIHW also stresses that COVID-19 and its associated effects may have undone some of the progress of the past decades.</p> <p>“After increasing by an average of 1% per year over the previous 20 years, the rate of cancer-related hospitalisations decreased by 1% between 2018-19 and 2019-20 – noting that COVID-19 restrictions were in place only during the last quarter of 2019-20,” says Harvey.</p> <p>“COVID-19 restrictions also appear to have affected uptake of breast ultrasound, mammography, breast MRI and colonoscopy.”</p> <p>The report doesn’t cover population-wide data for 2020 and 2021, and this won’t be collated and examined in full for another few years.</p> <p>“The full impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on cancer diagnosis and treatment will not be known for some time,” says Harvey.</p> <!-- Start of tracking content syndication. Please do not remove this section as it allows us to keep track of republished articles --> <img id="cosmos-post-tracker" style="opacity: 0; height: 1px!important; width: 1px!important; border: 0!important; position: absolute!important; z-index: -1!important;" src="https://syndication.cosmosmagazine.com/?id=174437&amp;title=Cancer+mortality+has+fallen+in+Australia" alt="" width="1" height="1" /> <!-- End of tracking content syndication --></div> <div id="contributors"> <p><a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/health/medicine/cancer-death-rate-mortality-australia-inequities-aihw/">This article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com">Cosmos Magazine</a> and was written by <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/contributor/ellen-phiddian">Ellen Phiddian</a>. Ellen Phiddian is a science journalist at Cosmos. She has a BSc (Honours) in chemistry and science communication, and an MSc in science communication, both from the Australian National University.</p> <p><em>Image: Oleg Elkov / Getty Images</em></p> </div>

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The Queen cracks jokes and addresses mortality with Sir David Attenborough

<p>In a new TV show with Sir David Attenborough, Queen Elizabeth II is heard cracking jokes and addressing her own mortality.</p> <p>The Queen, who celebrates her 92nd birthday on April 21, took a stroll around her gardens with the wildlife expert in <em>The Queen’s Green Planet</em>, which will air next week in the UK.</p> <p>The pair walked around the gardens of Buckingham Palace to bring attention to the monarch’s project to create a Queen’s Commonwealth Canopy of forests in all 53 Commonwealth states.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fhello%2Fvideos%2F10160346835395078%2F&amp;show_text=0&amp;width=560" width="560" height="315" style="border: none; overflow: hidden;" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowtransparency="true" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe></p> <p>The rare interview shows the Queen laughing about a sapling not looking very healthy.</p> <p>“That one we won’t look at. Somebody sat on it, I think at a garden party,” she said.</p> <p>She also joked about efforts to “stop children playing conkers” because of “health and safety”.</p> <p>Sir David replied, “You would think that, that people would stop people breathing.”</p> <p>“Well, it seems to me quite a harmless sort of battle thing,” she said.</p> <p>During their tour of the garden, their conversation was interrupted by a helicopter buzzing overhead.</p> <p>The Queen asked, “Why do they always go round and round when you want to talk?”</p> <p>“Sounds like President Trump ... or President Obama.”</p> <p>As they continued their walk, Sir David pointed out a sundial that was positioned in the shade.</p> <p>The Queen, who appeared surprised at the oversight, said, “Had we thought of that? That it was planted in the shade, it wasn’t in the shade originally, I’m sure? Maybe we could move it?”</p> <p>The Queen also touched on her own mortality after Sir David said there could be “all kinds of different trees” growing in the palace gardens in another 50 years.</p> <p>“It might easily be, yes.” she said. “I won’t be here though.”</p> <p>During the interview, the Queen also revealed how she eats honey from the hives of her own bees, decorates her own Christmas tree and is <a href="http://www.oversixty.com.au/lifestyle/home-garden/2018/04/queen-reveals-the-one-gift-people-always-get-her/" target="_blank"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>quite difficult to give presents to.</strong></span></a></p> <p>The show will air on UK ITV at 9 pm on Monday, April 16. </p>

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Why it’s good to be aware of your mortality

<p><em><strong>Oona McEwan is a PhD Candidate and Mark McDermott is a Professor of Health Psychology at the University of East London.</strong></em></p> <p>Nobody likes to think about lying on their death bed. From health anxiety to midlife crises, it seems like thoughts about ageing and death can often unleash some level of neurosis. But is that the whole story? We have examined mortality awareness – the realisation that we are all one day going to die – and found that, although the prospect of death is often scary, it can also have positive effects.</p> <p>Perhaps unsurprisingly, research on death awareness so far has focused largely on the negative aspects of realising that we will eventually stop living. Indeed, until now, the dominant psychological theory has been “<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong><a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/terror-management-theory" target="_blank">terror management theory</a></strong></span>”, which assumes that contemplating our demise invokes fear and anxiety. For example, studies using this framework have found that thinking about death can make us <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong><a href="https://theconversation.com/how-scared-of-death-are-we-really-and-how-does-that-affect-us-54258" target="_blank">more punitive and prejudiced</a></strong></span>.</p> <p>However, throughout the years, literature from various fields has offered other explanations. For example, “positive psychology” proposes concepts such as “<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong><a href="http://positivepsychology.org.uk/post-traumatic-growth/" target="_blank">post-traumatic growth</a></strong></span>” – the idea that people can grow psychologically through traumatic experiences. Thinking about the fact that we will die may be hard, but according to this theory it could also help us to get stronger psychologically.</p> <p>In our recent study, <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong><a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/26036058" target="_blank">published in<em> OMEGA – Journal of Death and Dying</em></a></strong></span><em>,</em> we asked 356 participants from 18 to 80 years old questions about their experience of mortality. We asked them to indicate the extent to which they agreed with 89 statements which covered a wide variety of possible attitudes to death awareness. These included “I do not let the fear of dying rule my life”, “I want to be remembered for doing great things for the world when I am no longer alive” and “I am scared of dying before I am old”. In this way, we explored how many aspects of such awareness we could identify.</p> <p>To see how the results might align with positive or negative features of their experience, we also asked our respondents about how interested they were in their health, how prone to taking risks they were, and how eager they were to conform (such as obeying rules).</p> <p>Some of the attitudes we identified were negative. These included being fearful, feeling disempowered (realising personal vulnerability in the face of death), and feeling disengaged (refusing to acknowledge death). We found that those people who reported higher levels of disempowerment and disengagement also reported taking more risks and were more reluctant to conform. It may be that people who report taking greater risks do so because they feel that they will die regardless of what they do. Those refusing to conform on the other hand may be attempting to empower themselves in the face of the inevitable.</p> <p>We also discovered that younger individuals and people with lower levels of education attainment were more likely to have negative attitudes to death. However, it is not all bad news for these individuals. For example, we found there was a relationship between mortality fearfulness and placing a high value on staying healthy. So it would appear that fearing death may cue attempts to control its unpredictability.</p> <p><strong>The power of legacy</strong></p> <p>Interestingly, we also found a few positive aspects of pondering mortality. One is accepting it rather than running away or fearing it, which can help us to make the most of our time-limited existence.</p> <p>We also identified what we call mortality legacy awareness. This is a form of mortality awareness that drives the need to leave something behind after we have gone – thereby outliving and transcending death. This could be a highly creative force.</p> <p>The need for a legacy turned out to be an important contributor to dealing effectively with the prospect of demise, lessening feelings of hopelessness and a lack of purpose. In the study, legacy awareness was found to be correlated with both trying to be healthy and striving for spiritual growth (such as believing that life has purpose).</p> <p>This suggests that those who are interested in passing down their succession to future generations as a way to transcend death are also likely to take responsibility for their health and place value on their internal development. Artists are the perfect example of this: through their creative legacies, they live on and are never totally gone. Working on leaving a legacy – whether it be producing art, raising a family, passing on family history or helping others – can also be a way for people to better tolerate ageing and face the prospect of death.</p> <p>Such legacies also help those who remain to cope with their loss. On a more basic level, being aware of our ability to provide a legacy that outlives us can be an excellent way to motivate ourselves to accomplish more, stay healthy, focus on the here and now, and maintain good relationships.</p> <p>Of course, the results are all based on correlations – we don’t show conclusively that striving for a legacy actually does make people feel more fulfilled. Our latest research project (currently under peer review for publication) has therefore studied 10 people’s experience of mortality awareness in depth – through one-to-one interviews. The outcomes of this work confirmed the findings from our first study and offer additional support to the claim that legacy awareness is a major element in people’s search for meaning – helping to manage death-related anxiety.</p> <p>So the next time you face a haunting reminder of your death, remember that focusing on what you would like to leave behind could help you turn something terrifying into a positive motivational tool.</p> <p><em>Written by Oona McEwan and Mark McDermott. Republished with permission of <a href="http://theconversation.com/The%20Conversation" target="_blank"><strong><span style="text-decoration: underline;">The Conversation</span></strong></a>.<img width="1" height="1" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/83181/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-advanced" alt="The Conversation"/> </em></p>

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