Happy days of summer-wishing you some too.

 

                                          Ben Nevis and the glory of the mountains surrounding. 

It’s that time again for scans and results that will provide the shape of my summer. The CT scan is quick and painless and a much easier experience than the MRI. My experience of MRIs have been mixed but are always accompanied by the cacophony of noises and the pain for me of lying still for sometimes around an hour. It’s a grim form of torture dressed up as being an important investigation so any thing less than that is a relief. 

But the real trauma is waiting for the result. Knowing that these results define the next stage of the year or in this instance, the summer. So it was with some anxiety I sat in the waiting room. Generally Andrew and I have the ‘what are you expecting’ discussion. Trying our best to be honest with ourselves and each other. 

This week I really didn’t know how it would go. And the news was good. The liver cancer is stabilised and my haemoglobin which had been as low as 75 at one point is now up to 130!  I am winning at the numbers now! And so I’ve time off active treatment this next two months. 

I nearly shot out the door straight away as if the Professor might change his mind if I hung around. But I stayed and got good advice to come back earlier if I feel less well. So hopefully a warm summer awaits with some fun concerts and trips in Scotland too and for now I’m free of medication that makes me queasy.

Any one who has had these cancer drugs know their impact tends to linger. Like a bad friend who just won’t take the hint to leave you alone.

Now I’m a Celt, I get freckles and burn if I’m too long in the sun I burn. I’ve learned how to build up a healthy glow without getting burnt. But not now. My skin last week felt like I had been burned. A chemo legacy. So sun screen and the endless search for the sun hat that doesn’t make me feel like I’m Worzil Gummich’s strange Aunty!

We’ve now had an exceptional few days in the southern Highlands with friends and family. It truly reminded us how good life can be. Our daughter and granddaughter both achieved climbing Ben Nevis this summer too.  I’m in awe of this achievement. And see the remarkable capture of the Ben on a rare day without cloud. Roll on a happy summer days for you all and especially a shout out for those like me who are able to enjoy it without the slog of cancer treatment.

See below we visited Loch Tay just the place for a wild swim I hear! #visitscotland 

Who’s boss….not me!

I told myself off today for wearing black so I put on a white T-shirt instead. A mistake! I’ve a head cold and I’m a wee bit wabbit as my grandson would say. 

I looked in the mirror, ‘Oh my god I’m an old woman’. Yes this year has taken its toll but the recent virus has not helped me have a healthy glow. So I’ve popped on some makeup including blusher and lipstick. I’ve no visitors today but I wanted to banish that old lady in the mirror. I daren’t look.

In truth I’m off the oral chemo just now as it’s been good at reducing the tumour ( 😊) but also good at suppressing my bone marrow and making me really anaemic (😟). And I’m due a scan in a few weeks to see how things are. Meantime I’ve been making the most of having more energy. I’ve even managed some out out for dinner and to see Six the musical 🎶,it’s fantastic, do see it if you can. 

https://youtu.be/iJW71rMVQyE

The dog/cat bed remained in pole position until this week. Although Koshka used it the first week or so after our lovely girl died he shunned it. Prior to her death he was in it every day at some point. He is an enigma as many cats are. But there is no doubt who’s boss…..it’s definitely not me. 

Small things can become big things in my situation I find and my latest trauma I’m embarrassed to admit about. My favourite chair ( it’s a rocking chair that you can make into a lie back as far as is comfortable) was away being reupholstered. I opted to have it fabric rather than leather. In the meantime I have been Goldilocks trying every chair and finding it lacking. The sofa also has recliners so I thought I would be fine but the truth is it eats me. As I lie back it fights back and holds me trapped in pain. And then I’m stuck and need help to get up. It’s not elegant and that old woman threatens to take my confidence. I finally emailed the reupholsterer and described my plight. So THE chair has returned in a resplendent Heather colour, I may never get out of it! However Koshka loves a warm chair and shuns the leather one. I fear I may find myself in an ongoing ownership battle. I know, I know I’m bigger than him but he does a very very good psychological campaign as well AND he is being rather spoiled since Cara died. 

Here’s hoping he feels some sympathy for me and at least is willing to share? 

Wish me luck 😉.

The Quiet House

Our house is so quiet.

So quiet that the cat’s footsteps 

whispering through the house

speak of his soft presence.

At last the dogs bed is his

without the dance of enforced sharing.

there are beds in almost every room 

even two in the cosy sitting room.

But top choice was the comfy dog bed.

Now visitors see the dogs bed 

in pride of place,

it’s presence dominant.

Quickly I try to reassure that

we aren’t in denial

or pretending the cat is Cara,

slipping the collar around him

and trotting of to the park.

No we’re just unwilling to move the bed

that he so obviously loves it.

And his soft delicate snores

break the silence.

We gain such comfort

as he quietly takes over.

We thought that food was safe from

the long legged thief

whose stealth has gained her 

everything from fillet steak 

to roast salmon and expensive mature cheddar.

Unimpaired by remorse.

But the day after she died

a sausage was stolen

her spirit tempted by an 

unclaimed sausage perhaps?

But the the cat appeared 

licking his lips

heading for THE bed

and an unrepentant snooze.

Soothing the sadness 

with his beautiful presence. 

Cara means friend.

 Cara

Cara means friend 

and you were the best friend

to us.

Your adoptive family whose lives you changed.

Your runs were the like the wind.

You swam like an otter.

That nose could empty pockets 

and deliver kisses to all who wanted one

and some to those who didn’t.

You loved us, you loved the children,you loved the oldies

you even loved the cat. 

You were the gift who

found us friends and took us to special places.

Thank you for everything.

We miss you. Who now will share my cheese?

Sleep well our princess.

Our gentle girl with the beautiful soul. 

Captured by grief.

 

As you may know, I am managing my well-being in the face of  metastatic breast cancer in my liver as well as pain from spinal growth, spinal damage and rheumatoid arthritis! I’m exhausted just writing that to be honest. But it’s our dog Cara whose decline is troubling us most. She has only three legs due to a growth a few years ago and more recently she has a soft tissue sarcoma. Initial treatment did not prevent it coming back. So now she has a large growth on her back and the size is worrying us daily. We see the vet regularly and she said that if it comes through the skin, the time has come to let her go. I’m never far from tears when I look at her. She’s been a good loyal ( cheese stealing) loving friend who has been part of our lives for 11 years. She now has a body suit to stop her fussing at the growth. It’s working but it reminds me of the navy knickers I wore to gym at school. She rocks it, nonetheless. 

So this week a good friend was saying goodbye before she goes away for a few months. I said to her say goodbye to Cara. She did and grief caught my breath as I looked on. And honestly not just for her but also the realisation that one of those occasions it would be to say goodbye to me. The thought did not stay long but it was a throat clenching moment that cut though to the truth of the layers of my grief. I know it’s not yet and hopefully not for sometime but I need to own my own sadness and so I felt compelled to write about this truth as well. Anticipatory grief is very present for us and it’s hard for me to name it for fear of causing pain. But I’m also aware my honesty might help others name their pain.

But life for us isn’t all sadness, I’ve been booking short holidays with the family too, making memories and having fun as well as being in beautiful Scotland but not too far away so minimum travel stress etc. In recent years we’ve found summer hard as friends were busy and we were not, so we’ve plans to look forward to and give us time with family too. I’ve a scan due in a few weeks which might affect future treatment but this time the holidays are being prioritised! Cancer treatment can dominate life I know but I’m reclaiming time as much as possible for now. 

Daffodils arrive slowly in this part of the world and they’ve had a long season. Their beautiful yellow blooms are guaranteed to life the spirits. The temperature is not yet spring like but the flowers are determined to bloom. That’s a good motto for life I think. 

 

With a little help from my friends…

 Last week I had one of those conversations with my oncologist that caught my breath. I expected one of those more of the same plans but it transpired that I remained very anaemic in spite of the transfusion a few weeks earlier and a lower dose of olaparib. I knew I was anaemic again, the sore mouth and overwhelming sleepiness were again dominating my life. 

Even on my birthday trip to the Old Course Hotel in St Andrews I was only too aware of my limitations. Although the staff and facilities were exceptional and I did feel the benefit. I was spoiled and loved it.

 But my bubble burst when we discussed what next at the clinic.The possibility that the anaemia might be due to the tumour and not the drug had to be acknowledged. I agreed to continue meantime with olaparib and have a scan early April and then decide with more information. 

That afternoon I could not keep my eyes open and slept on and off for the rest of the day. It’s my bodies way of coping with shock. It tells the truth of the impact on me, even if my habit is to deny worries. Of course I now have an infection and I’m back on antibiotics which are helping. Thank goodness for the NHS and for skilled and compassionate staff. I know the NHS in Scotland has significant issues, my experience is of a streamlined cancer service that feels flexible and to an extent, designed around me. 

And my other gift is my friends and family. From timely gift of a cute pink hat for the cold of St Andrews or walking the dog or making a lovely dinner or coming on a long weekend and reminding me I’m more than a sick person. I’m so deeply grateful and all the love keeps us both smiling and able to enjoy life’s joys. 

This last few weeks I’ve laughed and cried and enjoyed peaceful times as well as seeing new people and places. In spite of all life feels rich. Thanks to all of you who make it so.

I started this year committing to invest in love, life and gratitude. So far it’s working well for me.

 I hope you too are enjoying spring. The weather still feels like winter but the spring flowers are daring to show their faces. I do love spring. 

Exploring JOMO……and the love of cats and dogs.

 

Just as eskimos have so many words for snow, I have many many ways to describe needing a nap. The only other household member who rivals me in time asleep is the cat. But when he ( and I ) are awake we try to fill our time with experiences. Our boundaries are fairly similar too, EH? and no further! If I too could climb a fence I would sit on the roof and survey the surroundings and catch a wee glimpse of Arthur’s seat. He’s even taken to sitting in front of the TV when it’s on. It’s not just to watch the ball in sports but last night it was silent witness.

I dare say a job as a pathologist would be quite appealing to a feline? Or it’s maybe just to annoy us? He’s also taken to sleeping in my wheelchair….even I don’t do that! Don’t suggest he’s looking for a new bed, he has many many beds to sleep on but he chooses a cold memory foam cushion on my very ordinary wheelchair. He likes to keep life on the edge you see.

I’ve been very anaemic and so sleep has been my friend. But the fatigue remains, even following two units of blood. However the sleepiness has subsided and my mouth is no longer as sore. So my life has a simple rhythm and I find that I like that. All my life I have been plagued by an element of fomo ( fear of missing out) but now jomo is my mantra ( joy of missing out). It’s predictable, yes , but comforting too. 

February is bowing out and the sun is getting deeper into the house as it’s rising for spring. But it feels a bit like I’m in an autumnal phase, shedding some burdens and even resigning from the government committee I sat on.There’s nothing quite like serious illness for helping you see how you want to apportion your energy. With great clarity, I knew it couldn’t be that anymore. I’d love to write more but sleepiness doesn’t help clarity of thought. 

I’ve been doing some mindful knitting. It needs to be small and easy; a modern equivalent of knitting squares for a blanket I guess! Just now it’s headbands that I’m producing and enjoying giving them to family and friends. I guess some may never grace the outside but it’s a wee bit of knitted love that I gifted with great pleasure. And if it stays in a bag or drawer I really don’t mind. I even do a matching line in dog snoods. Now there is a niche pairing! The cat would not appreciate being dressed up so I haven’t gone there.

Our darling dog Cara is struggling more now with pain in her back leg. It’s carrying so much ( having lost a leg three years ago now) and she also has a soft tissue sarcoma on her back that seems to grow before our eyes. The time approaches for us to make a decision about her quality of life and when to let go. It’s beyond painful but we can’t let her down. She’s a dog who spreads love and kisses to all her fans. It’s hard to think of losing her. Everyone says you will know when the time is right. I do hope we do but thankfully it’s not yet. We need to focus on gratitude for the love she has brought to all of us for as long as we have her.