Monthly Archives: January 2012

lasagne

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B’s got this thing he wants me to do, which will be cool, but is a bit challenging. I’ll need to put myself out there a little, at least for him to judge. So, I did, what I do, I made lasagne. Just like when I need to pay bills, sort out our finances, do the filing. I make lasagne. If I need to pack for a trip, tidy a cupboard, write a reference I make lasagne.  Obviously lasagne is a euphemism for doing anything but what I am supposed to be doing.  Which often is, make lasagne. And if the thing is a little bit confronting, I’ll probably make enough lasagne for the school canteen.  If we had one. I sort of knew I did this, but I didn’t know anyone else knew, except Mel, cos I told her.  But I realised B is onto me when I proudly told him I’d made lasagne for dinner.  His response, if he ever feels like lasagne, he’ll just ask me to put myself out there.

four

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A thing of beauty. B’s words, not mine, on seeing a full drawer of Nespresso pods this morning. He is right, it is a thing of beauty. I am grateful today not only for the full drawer, the wonderful aroma, the best coffee at the touch of a button, the no mess but mostly for the moments to come.

you asked

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As many of my friends know I do not shy away from talking about my cancer, showing my scars, my man made breast, or sharing my ongoing treatment.  I honestly believe fear is our greatest enemy, and if someone, anyone can take comfort in my oversharing, then it’s worth it. There is hope. There is no need to be fearful.  But, it is lonely.  No-one as much as they try can understand the feeling of utter dread the first time cancer and your name appear together in print. If it’s written down it can’t be removed kind of thing. No-one can take away the fear, only you. Who knows what the ultimate outcome will be. What will be, will be, but every single day, put your best foot forward, embrace life and do what is required. Share and talk and laugh and cry, just don’t hide. Fear will win, if you let it in.

So ….where I am now in my treatment?  I had my mastectomy on 18 June 2007 (our 13th wedding anniversay, how funny is that?),  I had my last chemo session on 3 January 2008 and my breast reconstruction on 14 February 2008 (valentine’s day, how funny is that?)   My cancer was stage 111, recurrent, aggressive and on the move, so with no intervention the likelihood of me being here in 5 years time was significantly affected.  The goal is being here 5 years after treatment. 5 years. Hilarious. Shit. My 5 years is next January. My cancer is estrogen receptive which means cancer cells accelerate in growth when they encounter estrogen. Clearly it’s best if there is no estrogen around.  Today I had my sixteenth zoladex implant, which is a slow release pellet that is implanted into my stomach every 3 months with a very fat needle, it’s main function being to put and keep me in menopause. Because the ovaries are not the only source of estrogen, our adrenal glands are also culprits, I am also on Femara, an aromatase inhibitor, a tablet I take daily, which blocks this.  The worst side effect of all of this for me, as B and the girls will attest to, is a firey disposition. If anyone snorted at this point, implying what’s different, piss off. Okay, I’m just damn moody, and very quick to ignite. But luckily there’s a pill for that too.  I know many believe the power is within and not to rely on all this stuff. I do too.  I have come to understand how strong I am, and how much I can and we all can handle. But I also know I have too much to lose.

three

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I am most grateful for my angel of mercy today. She is shy and kind and quietly looks after people as she takes their blood for various sinister or not reasons. She is a phlebotomist as I recently learned. Par excellence. My veins hardened due to the poison passing through them during my eight months of chemo. From being ok having my blood taken I have become anxiety-ridden at the thought.  Due to the agony I experience every time as my veins are poked around in, often to no avail. But this sweet angel gets it every time. And gets me.

crap

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Today was the first time I heard Kate swear.  Hilarious I know considering her mother’s favourite adjective is fucking.  As in that dress is fucking nice.  No prizes for guessing why she felt the need.  Her first relationship.  As in this is crap.  I am writing it here because it is burning up inside me and I just can’t say it to her … so here goes … I told you so.  Whilst  I love being right this is one time I wish I wasn’t.  It is so hard watching the emotions flit across her face as her childish expectations of how others should behave are shattered one by one.  Just when I thought what do I do if it all ends and she crumbles, she sighed, put down her mobile and said this is crap.  As in, I just can’t be bothered with this. Hard to disagree with her.  It is crap.  But as she keeps reminding me, it’s her crap and she has to experience it.   I promise I am letting go.  But I did manage to dictate a few responses for her first.

two

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I am grateful for my daughter’s friendship with my friend’s son.  He brings such a fabulous energy into our home every time he visits.  He is kind, cheeky, charming, challenging and fun.  He has such enthusiasm for life that it is truly infectious.  The girls and I all become a lot lighter and a lot more fun when he is around.  He had us at hello.

snort

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Honestly, that’s what Kate did when she read my first post.  Not a derisive snort, but one that precedes giggles and outright laughter.  My newly formalised fragile sense of self took one huge knock.  It got worse.  Cute.  She says. You are so serious, it’s cute. Then she checked out my ‘about’ and then post ‘one’.  Ohhhhh, you’re posting about what you’re grateful for.  Boring was implied tonally.  I thought I had made that clear in my ramblings.  Obviously not.  So now you know. Then she moved on, leaving her mother in tatters.  Just for a moment.  Stuff it.  I decided to tell her how much I love her instead.  I am grateful for my beautiful daughter.  I am grateful for the fact that she loves me.  I stalked her tumblr and found this.  And she doesn’t realise it yet, but she’s cute and serious too.  www.precious-bliss.tumblr.com

one

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I am grateful for a walk in the rain. Not just a walk in the rain, but for the feeling of today, of just embracing what is. It poured down. I walked and felt the rain. I loved the smiles on others faces, especially those who had raincoats and umbrellas, shielding from the rain under the trees. I know they wanted to be me.  Today I was grateful that I was able to walk in the rain and love it.

ahemmm….

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I’m not good at being a statistic.  As in … another woman trying to find herself by sharing her musings on a blog.  But realising that’s not the statistic I hate being, it’s actually one of my own doing, that of another person fearful of starting something in case they don’t do it well.  I’m 45 and realised I’m finally accepting I’m good enough. And am happy to be just like all those others grateful for life by sharing an image a day of something I am grateful for.  It’s a wonderful way of focussing your energies. It is wonderful to realise how limiting it is  to only share one thing. Just today I realised how good I am at talking and not so much at listening. How awful.  I was still for a bit.  The recurring sound in my ears was like a caress from the wind. just listen just listen just listen. I keep telling mysellf tomorrow will be better, wait until you have something to share, who are you and who would want to read you. Today I just listened and stopped telling myself why not.  I had already missed the boat in terms of order, as in starting on the first of the year and ending 365 days later. I love order. Or symmetry. And control. And thats enough to stop me. But today, for a moment I just let go and embraced that now is as good as any a time. Right now I am good enough.  And right now is good enough. So January 16 2012 is my new day.