A Grannie Rocket?

 A side effect of spending time at home is seeing what might be done in the house with some investment. From being a young adult in our first home we’ve always prioritised holidays over home improvements. And being busy with work and life and children etc I have always been easily distracted from what needed done. Even when we could only scrape enough money to pay the essentials we would still rather pack up a tent and head off. Also spending time with family was and is always the priority. So  redesigning dining rooms for example could always wait.

Until this year. 2020. 

Who knew what you could achieve with time, energy and money saved by sitting at home. So we’ve had a lot of boxes arrive, redecorating to arrange, cushions to chose and we have a completely different room. I’m delighted with it. Cara especially likes to lie on the sofa while I’m working at the table. It feels so bright and yet comfortable. The sofa becomes a bed if you want it too and at times I’ve needed to know I didn’t have to climb the stairs when I’m most in pain. 

My pain has been worse of late. I’m sure the added stress of the resurgent virus and the loss of not seeing and holding family is part of this too. Pain is a complex mix of the physical , mental and social context and who could pretend that any of those is ideal just now. 

So our final investment is a stairlift. I’ve given in to my need but to say I resent it would be to understate the situation. The cost of over £4,000 is the worst part. I know I need to love it now but that’s a big stretch for me. I do love not being anxious and in pain every night when I go to bed. I have also regained some mobility around the house. 

Koshka the cat is horrified by it, a machine too far for his cosy life. By contrast I’m sure Cara would get on it, if it got her to our comfy bed when we are not looking! My son suggested to his son that Grannie has got a rocket. A Grannie rocket! I have no doubt it will be a source of endless entertainment for Davie. Maybe someone can love it! A friend suggested pimping it up. Suggestions are welcome.....

I have got through breast cancer awareness month without thinking much about it or buying something pink. I just couldn’t open that box of fears which has been safely tucked away of late. We lost another friend to breast and ovarian cancer just recently. She had such a terrible year but held on to life. Her nails painted and ever glamorous at least for the outside world. She was so kind and welcoming to me 40 years ago when we met. She and her husband died within a month of each other. We’ve been grieving for them both. The rules of the pandemic have destroyed our rituals for grief and saying goodbye. We need new ones and we epspcially need human connection. I’m missing that so much.

I’m not sad to see the back of October. But what will November bring? 

Facing fears in October

 

Just one of those days when you want to coorie in. It’s already October with the vibrant autumnal  colours arriving so soon after a sunnyish September. Strange that it comes with the inevitability of more lockdown restrictions, pushing our heads a little lower. I’ve socks on and out come the boots again. A benefit of not really being able to walk any distance outside means your shoes don’t wear out. There you are, jealous now? 

October 1st, I was tidying ( oh stop...I have been known to tidy) and found my printout from the genetics department. No one expected it to be positive for a BRCA gene. BRCA2 with all the accompanying percentage risks. A 45%-85% risk of breast cancer. Well that train left the station and had a few stops along the way. Then I saw an article on BRCA2 and it dawned on me, it’s the start of breast cancer awareness month. A weariness settled over me. I’ve put the cancer to one side of late. I’ve donated my breasts and ovaries to the cause of ridding my life of that gene so I think I’m entitled to try to forget about it. After most cancer diagnoses I’ve had, I’ve gone up and down the roller coaster of denial, overwhelm, fear, then that unstable path to integration into my sense of who I am. The path is unstable because each spell of pain, of fatigue, of headaches, of coughs bring back the paranoia and the cold fear. I taught myself to control these impulses to seek medical advice. Because that could result in more fear. A bone scan, an MRI, a CT and off we go. A gnawing fear covered by the logical and usually correct claim that it’s nothing to worry about. But when you are in that scan and during the wait for results the fear sits like a dragon guarding the cave, knowing that if you find yourself in the grim  cave of cancer treatment, life will never be the same. 

Adding Covid-19 to the mix of health concerns means we’re distracted. In the week President Trump is in hospital because of Covid-19 ( if you can’t say anything nice, say nothing!!!!!......) the reality of the risk is clear. And our lives shift so quickly. Mine shifts in a wheelchair or scooter. I started to read about the percentages of disabled people who died from Covid and I quickly put it to one side. Another one to pack away, follow the advice and get on with life, masked and turned away from human connection. It’s so all consuming.

It has occurred to me that I might not notice any changes that would previously taken me to a GP.

Or to the breast clinic. Those late diagnoses with cancer and heart disease so easy to understand when we re focussed on trying to survive Covid with all its tricks. 

BUT it is October and breast cancer or any other hasn’t disappeared just because we want it to.

So here are the signs and symptoms of breast cancer, an early diagnosis is still the best predictor of a good outcome. 

Go well, stay safe and find a way to make a virtue of this aberrant winter. But we must still remember to bring our compassion and help to those who are taking the brunt of this vicious virus and who feel the cruelty of a state unwilling to financially protect its most vulnerable. My greatest fear this October is for them.