Audrey’s Blog on living well with disability and breast cancer

The paradox of trauma is that it has both the power to transform and resurrect. - Peter A. Levine -                   This week as the preparation for my surgery moved on, I had an angiogram. I prepared for it, like a first day at school. Clothes laid out, bag packed, wee picnic, not quite sharpened pencils, but you get the drift. I was a bit nervous but also carried a little strange excitement; it’s a fine line between the two of course but if nothing else it was data for the blog (!) and a step towards the surgery.  I arrived promptly at 9 and sat till 11 chatting with a fellow patient who was awaiting surgery that day. Our life experiences may have been different but we knew nerve pain and it’s impact. But unlike him I don’t need to return to a manual job, believing it’s the only thing I can do. As he marched off to theatre cheerily giving me a wave, I felt a jolt of concern for his future.  Then I was gown on and off to theatre with the reassurance 'they are great te

And so it began, starting with my pre op assessment this week for my spinal surgery. I was all set, I even had a wee snack packed as advised as it could take some time. I was up early and organised. But this week we’ve had a sick family with both Andrew ( complication of man flu) and Cara the dog ( complication of dog bite) on antibiotics.  So hot drinks and cheese disguised antibiotics were delivered ( only the dog got cheese to be honest ). Much reassurance given that I could drive there myself. So blue badge in hand I set off to my car in the hope of a parking space near the door of the clinic. The car didn’t start. OK we’re a two car family and no one was well enough to be going out so back in the house, swapped car keys, tried car number two, all good except blue badge was the other car and time was slipping away. Much cursing ensued and back for the other keys.....Amazingly i arrived on time.  First off I saw the nurse who asked loads of questions and told me things

I cried for someone I hadn’t heard of before, and certainly never met, on Friday. I expect some of you did too. Frightened Rabbit are not on my playlist but when the story unfolded of Scott Hutchison my heart ached. I’ve seen people post some painfully raw tweets today around times when they too have felt suicidal. The moment passed and they are still here and grateful for that. And honestly I too know that place. When I first had breast cancer I went into fight mode as the language used around cancer urges us to do; you’ve got to fight it, you must battle with it, you should keep going and so you deny the impact of treatment and smile over the deepening cracks. I got through it and then came to the end of treatment, celebrated and planned a holiday a few months later. The thought of that holiday kept me going. Paris, spring...wonderful. No Gallery was left unturned but my favourite was the Musée de Rodin, I knew I could have sat in that garden forever. I returned to work and c