Cancer- you are not me

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

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

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 body image and fear of dying and more about how I can be the best Wife, Mum and Grandparent in this time I have, as well as Sister, Aunt, and friend . A bit cheesy maybe but honestly it’s all about time with those you love and I’m blessed by good people who have helped me put one foot in front of the other this last year.

 I said towards the end of last year that I thought I had post traumatic stress disorder. I recognised the signs https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/treatment/ , mostly feeling sick and trembling if I thought of my time in intensive care.https://www.health.org.uk/improvement-projects/inspire-–-intensive-care-syndrome-promoting-independence-and-return-toArticle on support after intensive care . Mostly I’ve locked it away and hidden the key but I know it’s there. I’m noticing the signs again in myself as I prepare for surgery next week. Practicing mindfulness regularly is helping but I suspect it’s not enough. Talking therapies feel almost too exhausting just now. Distraction is great for the pain i hold; be it physical or emotional but I also need to rest and sit with how I am. 

Writing is helpful and since I was a wee girl and went each week to the library with my Mum, I’ve always wanted to write a book. I absorbed the whole children’s section and took my love of libraries and books into adulthood. So far as well as writing my blog, I’ve a draft memoir half done, I’ve an idea for a children’s book and another on wellbeing with long term illness. Maybe one of these days I will find the energy to complete them? But meantime I’ve got writing this blog, so thanks for reading and being on the journey with me. I will keep you posted. 

https://www.health.org.uk/improvement-projects/inspire-–-intensive-care-syndrome-promoting-independence-and-return-to

If ever there was

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.