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Tae a lump

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  Tae a lump…. I’m not sure when I noticed you. I do remember thinking I will wait until after Christmas to mention it. But you know that feeing when you have a hole in your tooth or even an ulcer on your tongue, you have to constantly revisit it. As you avoid calling the dentist your tongue tells you how foolish that is. Exploring every tender point at every time you are trying to avoid thinking of it, yet the tongue- the traitor-finds it everytime. Making a mockery of denial, so does my hand. In the shower I check it out, in bed I notice it’s contours, applying my favourite moisturiser I feel it clearly. I’m confused and yet at the same time my heart is sinking in recognition that this is serious.  Of course it is, you cry. But you see I’ve already had breast cancer four times and I have had two mastectomies, one reconstruction and a whole lot of grief since 1994. To be fair most of my diagnoses have been in the last 10 years. Just when I thought I was safe from breast cancer, jus
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In a month when you can be anything-be kind.

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  January. In a month when you can be anything, be kind! … please When I was a wee girl, I’m told I used to cry at the end of the Christmas holidays. Perhaps I didn’t want to return to school? I don’t remember the reason but I do remember that I didn’t want to holidays to end. I wanted the Christmas/midwinter/Hogmanay celebrations to go on. Was it about Christmas? I did regularly go to church and Sunday school, at that time and admit to being captured by the Christmas story. But I was never the one who got to be Mary in the nativity, I was more of a third donkey type! I loved the carols, the special services, the hope and optimism. They settled around might heart like the tinsel on the tree. They lifted the mundanity of winter in our wee village. And Hogmanay whilst whisky fuelled adults were sometimes unpredictable I savoured the fun, the gatherings ( even parties) and the cheer from visitors and family who too were freed from daily grinds. Winter in Scotland was grey, austere, cold
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Happy new year! Here’s to love, connection and time with those we love.

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 2021 we had such hopes for you. But we should have known by then. Covid was a constant backdrop to our lives. Vaccines offered so much hope with good reason and yet freedom did not feel secure. Plans were rarely more than tentative. We delayed bookings and failed to rebook until later in the year. A summer plan became autumn and instead of warmth we had the glory of Scotland’s colours, rust brown and gold trees called out to us. Look we are here they say, and we hold our presence as your calling.  Scotland you own us with your beauty and your message of ‘you are home’ speaks straight to our souls. These souls starved of touch, of company of comfort and of love. How could we resist your promise of presence, of the comfort of the familiar, of safety we assumed but ultimately who can promise so much in such times of uncertainty.  As Christmas approached we thought, this year will offer so much. Christmas with family and New Year with friends exploring new territory, new traditions, new p
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For Rosa

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  For Rosa Rosa,her smile tells stories straight to the heart. She speaks in two languages; signing illustrating her emotions, spoken words the context  for us who are awed by her. That stride off to nursery with no hesitation. She knows none of the  fear her parents hold. But for noticing that they hold her a little too tight. Omicron-a benign name Like a young sister of a unicorn maybe? Magical almost- except-except The truth is that it’s another viral variant Spreading its tentacles across our city, the country, the world a renewed threat to our lives and our well-being. For Rosa much of her life so far has danced between the full colour version then back to the greyed out  Lockdown version. Play boxed away into homes Fearful of a virus that doesn’t  only change lives-it threatens to take life. There’s the fear, not captured in Rosas short memory but for her Mum and Dad its very real sitting by her bed. An orchestra of sounds and light the hospital machines symphonies tell of labour
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Always look on the bright side of life….I tried,honestly!

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  I decided yesterday to write a blog on what has been the impact of becoming a disabled person in an ableist world. And the truth is sometimes I forget how much I have had to give up, adapt, accept and buy to keep going in a positive way. Why positive, you may ask? Because I can’t live my life focussed on negatives as that takes a brutal toll on my mental health. I know this as I was stuck in that place earlier this year, with an internal black dog facing constant pain and an external context of evident climate crisis and a pandemic still being measured by excess deaths. I’m fortunate in that I have an internal reset button that helps me feel so grateful for the wonderful people I have in my life and the stability of an income that enables me to buy things that make me more comfortable. And to survive well, quite frankly, you need both.   This week I’ve just bought two mobility scooters! I started on my journey with mobility scooters just before my spinal operation in June 2018. I w
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In search of Healing

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Difference Between Healing and Curing                                                                               I read this article today and it really resonated for me. It’s perhaps because I’ve been stuck recently. Stuck in the sense that a flare up in pain had stopped me sleeping and that in turn had tipped my equilibrium. I was buried by my many health issues, trying to find an escape route. Sleep loss and feeling low meant that I forgot about ways to escape and mostly put my hopes in medication to re-establish some balance for me. Anyone living with chronic pain knows it’s much more complex than that. I know that how we react to and interact with pain is complex and yet I was clinging to the myth of the magic bullet to fix me. And perhaps worst of all I’d lost my joy in life.  Reaching out for support recently has really helped me re calibrate. I now can see again what makes life special and I’m being kinder to myself. But as with anyone who lives with cancer knows, we have ha
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Through the eyes of a child.

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                                                                                               York Minster  We should all see the world through the eyes of a three year old. It’s an exciting place full of opportunity and wonder. It’s a world where firing a nerf blaster at your birthday guests can fill the room with all our laughter. But it’s also a world where what you remember most from a trip to York, that took in the Railway Museum and a Viking Centre, are the bells of York Minster. Even at three years of age we know what a rare beauty that is. Our Grandson’s life and vocabulary expands daily and its joyful to watch. He got every kind of vehicle for his birthday, even emergency ones that made their own siren noise! If Eskimos have 50 words for snow, then he has a similar number that make car brrrroom noises. It’s even magical to see him play with toys that were once his father’s, especially super ted whose super powers live in the imagination of the children who have loved him. Wha
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