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Showing posts from May, 2019

Cancer- you are not me

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I am the breath Coming back to the breath creates a cradle for my pain I rock and the rhythm soothes The breath knows its healing gift Pain and suffering are not the same With each breath I accept the pain that’s here and is to come I breathe with the fear of the cancer I know you, I feel you But you are not me I am the breath moving with the light of life sustaining me in love and kindness

Reflections from a hospital bed

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My Prime Minister has gone with a catch in her throat tears for a legacy that was a fantasy tears for a career that exposed her as a leader who didn’t lead. But no tears for the food banks so needed in our communities. No tears for Grenfell and communities like them. No tears for Windrush generation and their families. No tears for the racism and inequality so many suffer. And who will choose the next one? Not the country, nor the Parliament. The final choice is the Conservative party members And really the Daily Mail  who tell us it’s Boris, And so probably they will make it so. But here from my window On my hospital bed I see the stunning outline Of my capital city, Edinburgh. And I grieve deeply for Britain. But we need our different choices to be honoured! Mrs May said now is not the time. Maybe she was right then? But in this time when our votes are ignored and our voices unheard. Scotland- this is the time! 

Mastectomy blues and PTSD

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So tomorrow was to be my day for surgery but now it’s delayed until Tuesday next week. It’s not long I know but I’d had so many conversations and hugs wishing me well, I had packed my bag, I had packed my Wonder Woman pants for safe measure, I had hugged my grandson especially close. And now I have days free I didn’t expect; a sort of stay of execution and I’m feeling rather lost if I’m honest. Even the fact I’m home for thé Eurovision song contest isnt enough to ease the situation. Part of me wants to sleep until next Tuesday. It’s the impact of this surgery I’m dreading so I’ve another few days with two boobs. I will be able to hold my grandson for a little longer, until surgery makes it too painful for a while.  Strange how the worries shift as I age. I would have been devastated to need a mastectomy in my thirties ( and my greatest fear was not to be there for my children) when I was first diagnosed and I do still feel a large element of that loss. But now it’s less about

If ever there was

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Inspired by the What matters to you retreat in  Old Lathrisk, Freuchie April 2019  If ever there was a place to  have a retreat it would be here Old Lathrisk in spring There’s a calmness even in the birds Mostly they sing Or chat amicably Just occasionally there Is the p’wee of the buzzard An unforgiving warning disguised as innocent cries  And the writers hardly making a ripple in the peace We capture a small part in a season reflecting ourselves And once we leave  Perhaps leaving a whisper of our conversations But then the waves of this old house cover our paths as if we were never here Ah yes if ever there was a place  to have a retreat it was here.