I've just spend an hour typing up a long and mournful post. It was quite depressing, so I will put it to one side and maybe revisit the sentiments when I am in a better frame of mind than I am tonight.
A few days ago, a good friend had a birthday - a fine day out, tea at the Dorchester and an evening at the RSC... Today her brother died, without any warning or illness, half a planet away. She's now faced with finding a way to get there, whilst coming to terms with her loss. I can't find any words to say to her, other than to offer to drive her to the airport.
Anything I could find to whine about pales into insignificance when compared to that. I have a little bruv, and I don't know what I would do if I lost him.
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
She's back.
It's been a while...
It's been a funny few months. Odd rather than funny-ha-ha. There have been some really high bits - and some really deep lows. I have seen friends and neighbours end their dances with life one way or another, which has been responsible for many of the lows - it's pushed me around the counselling loop again, with varying degrees of success. I have also seen some wonderful things happen - some people very dear to me have had better results in their fights with illness, which has let a fair amount of sunshine into life every so often. I've seen new little people arrive in the world, with all the happiness (and vague sickly smells) that they bring. One of the great joys is that I have found a whole bunch of friends that I had lost, thought that they were consigned to memories of younger days, but they're not - they are still here, and still just as wonderful!
I don't propose to sit down and type up all the events of the last few months... that would just be boring. Imight will probably tell you about a few of the highlights and lowlights, things that I feel are important, but I will try not to bore you rigid!
I am trying to move into a world where cancer isn't the be-all and end-all of life - where I can have headaches without panicking, and where everybody has finally forgotten that I used to be bald. It was a little while ago... and I am trying not to let it rule my life. But it will always be there, and I can't just "get back to normal" - "normal" is different now, and it will always have the shadow of the cancer fairy in the corners - I just need to try not to visit that corner quite so often.
It's been a funny few months. Odd rather than funny-ha-ha. There have been some really high bits - and some really deep lows. I have seen friends and neighbours end their dances with life one way or another, which has been responsible for many of the lows - it's pushed me around the counselling loop again, with varying degrees of success. I have also seen some wonderful things happen - some people very dear to me have had better results in their fights with illness, which has let a fair amount of sunshine into life every so often. I've seen new little people arrive in the world, with all the happiness (and vague sickly smells) that they bring. One of the great joys is that I have found a whole bunch of friends that I had lost, thought that they were consigned to memories of younger days, but they're not - they are still here, and still just as wonderful!
I don't propose to sit down and type up all the events of the last few months... that would just be boring. I
I am trying to move into a world where cancer isn't the be-all and end-all of life - where I can have headaches without panicking, and where everybody has finally forgotten that I used to be bald. It was a little while ago... and I am trying not to let it rule my life. But it will always be there, and I can't just "get back to normal" - "normal" is different now, and it will always have the shadow of the cancer fairy in the corners - I just need to try not to visit that corner quite so often.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Where to begin...
Forgive me dear reader, it's been a fortnight since my last posting. And at the risk of sounding trite, that fortnight has been a bit of a roller coaster ride.
I could go back and fill in the last two weeks, and tell you all about the shiny solar panels, and the gloriously enormously echoey conservatory of which we are the proud and somewhat stunned custodians... but I don't have the heart. Perhaps I will say more about them later, but right now I can't quite muster the literary loquacity that I'd need to do them justice...
A good friend of ours, Kath, has been walking through the dark scary forest for something like three years now. Same age as me, married to one of M's mates from way back when. She and her husband have dealt with many horrible things that life has thrown at them, one of these days when things are a bit less raw I will maybe talk about it. I have often wondered just how much punishment one couple can take. They've managed, with a surprising amount of quiet dignity, to carry on. When M & I were married, a couple of summers ago, she was wearing a red spotty headscarf and waiting for surgery. This time two years ago she was through treatment and looking forward. Then last year - around this time I think although I can't swear to it - she found it was in her bones and her lungs. That was never going to be good news, and on Friday it all came to an end. It wasn't a shock - we all knew she was not going to get a miracle - but it's immensely sad.
Saturday morning, I rushed up to the midlands to see my niece - she's been going through some tough times recently, and I haven't seen her for a while, so I thought it was about time I did. It would also be a good opportunity to go and visit James - the scourge of the dialysis machine - who has featured heavily in my ramblings recently. We've talked on the phone a lot over the last couple of weeks, and I'd promised to be up soon. Shortly after I arrived at niece's house, I got a message from a friend that James had taken a bit of a turn, and was heading back to HDU. Another friend was there with him, so I didn't panic - then a few minutes later the same friend called me in tears, things were quite scary. So then I panicked just a little and headed for ITU, as things were changing rapidly. Over the next few hours, friends gathered, family started travelling and doctors became more and more grave. Again, maybe I will talk another day about the love that caused people to sit with him all night, so he could always hear a familiar voice - but not quite now. All the love, prayers and positive energy in the world, even supported by the best care in the world (and another two dialysis machines!) wasn't enough, and he quietly left us on Sunday morning.
Both those people have left a circle of stunned, lost and heartbroken friends and family. I have had the immense privilege of being part of both of those circles. I have had the joy of reunions with friends I haven't seen for ages, and a sharp reminder not to let those friendships go.
I have been blessed with wonderful friends. And I am starting to sound ever so slightly pompous, which probably means it's time to shut up. G'night.
I could go back and fill in the last two weeks, and tell you all about the shiny solar panels, and the gloriously enormously echoey conservatory of which we are the proud and somewhat stunned custodians... but I don't have the heart. Perhaps I will say more about them later, but right now I can't quite muster the literary loquacity that I'd need to do them justice...
A good friend of ours, Kath, has been walking through the dark scary forest for something like three years now. Same age as me, married to one of M's mates from way back when. She and her husband have dealt with many horrible things that life has thrown at them, one of these days when things are a bit less raw I will maybe talk about it. I have often wondered just how much punishment one couple can take. They've managed, with a surprising amount of quiet dignity, to carry on. When M & I were married, a couple of summers ago, she was wearing a red spotty headscarf and waiting for surgery. This time two years ago she was through treatment and looking forward. Then last year - around this time I think although I can't swear to it - she found it was in her bones and her lungs. That was never going to be good news, and on Friday it all came to an end. It wasn't a shock - we all knew she was not going to get a miracle - but it's immensely sad.
Saturday morning, I rushed up to the midlands to see my niece - she's been going through some tough times recently, and I haven't seen her for a while, so I thought it was about time I did. It would also be a good opportunity to go and visit James - the scourge of the dialysis machine - who has featured heavily in my ramblings recently. We've talked on the phone a lot over the last couple of weeks, and I'd promised to be up soon. Shortly after I arrived at niece's house, I got a message from a friend that James had taken a bit of a turn, and was heading back to HDU. Another friend was there with him, so I didn't panic - then a few minutes later the same friend called me in tears, things were quite scary. So then I panicked just a little and headed for ITU, as things were changing rapidly. Over the next few hours, friends gathered, family started travelling and doctors became more and more grave. Again, maybe I will talk another day about the love that caused people to sit with him all night, so he could always hear a familiar voice - but not quite now. All the love, prayers and positive energy in the world, even supported by the best care in the world (and another two dialysis machines!) wasn't enough, and he quietly left us on Sunday morning.
Both those people have left a circle of stunned, lost and heartbroken friends and family. I have had the immense privilege of being part of both of those circles. I have had the joy of reunions with friends I haven't seen for ages, and a sharp reminder not to let those friendships go.
I have been blessed with wonderful friends. And I am starting to sound ever so slightly pompous, which probably means it's time to shut up. G'night.
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