A
thick cloud of overwhelmedness has hidden me away from a lot of
reality over the past few weeks. Some sort of mini-hibernation, where
I've barely had the energy to go online, engage with friends, or cope
with anything more intellectual that the act of putting one foot in
front of the other. If you are one of many lovely people I haven't
been in touch with recently, please don't take it personally, I've
been here in body but not always in spirit. I think it's the result
of too much happening too quickly over the past year or so, and
spending the year not just fighting for my life, but also
firefighting crisis after crisis after catastrophe, with no time to
stop and process or absorb what's happening. I'm fine, but just
mentally exhausted, but I think I'm beginning to come out the other
side relatively unscathed.
I
think the whole cancer spread news has hit me harder than I wanted to
admit even to myself, and on lots of different levels. There is so
much hype and nonsense surrounding breast cancer, all that pink, all
that earnestness about awareness, and it sometimes feels as if there
is an expectation to do breast cancer “properly”, and everyone
seems to have a “breast cancer survivor” story to tell. I now
that I'm not going to be a member of the
BC Survivor's club, and that I've failed in doing it properly. It's
unspoken, and everyone is lovely, and maybe I'm totally
oversensitive, but I do detect from certain quarters a very real
sense of disappointment, as if I didn't fight hard enough, as if I've
let the side down in some way. Maybe it's coming from me rather than
other people, but there has definitely been a period of adjustment, a
few weeks trying to get my head around the enormity of it all.
Don't
worry, I've no intention of crawling into my death bed for a very
long time to come, and at no stage has anything even close to
full-blown depression threatened to knock me for six. I just needed,
and may continue to need from time to time, some quiet headspace to
catch my breath, rearrange the battle plans, pick myself up and get
going again.
And
heck, have I got going! Three weeks ago, I spoke about needle-phobia
at the NIVAS conference, and it was really well received. WM came
with me, and we were thoroughly spoilt and made to feel like VIPs,
and it was a really lovely day, not least because I was presented
with the largest bouquet of the most beautiful flowers I have ever
seen.
My gorgeous flowers
Well,
word has spread, and I've now been invited to talk to a group of
nurses at UCH, a leading London hospital, as well as to another group
of nurses at the Royal Marsden. In addition, I'm also going to be
leading Laughter Yoga sessions for staff at both the hospitals too.
Laughter
Yoga has featured quite a bit this week, I ran 3 consecutive
workshops at a local school for children with autism. The first one
was with a group of 9 and 10 year old boys, all severely autistic,
then another workshop for the staff, and finally a workshop for the
brothers and sisters of the autistic children. Three very different
sessions, adapted appropriately for each group, but each workshop
went really well, and it was so rewarding to see the autistic boys
come out of their shells and engage, and best of all, laugh long and
loud with us. I wouldn't have missed the day for the world, it left
me with feeling energised and very humbled.
We've
also got another performance of Coke Floats and Chemo on Thursday,
and it's totally sold out! I had better find a minute to revise my
lines or they'll all be clamouring for their money back. To be
honest, I'm really quite looking forward to it.
Sad
news recently is that Steve, our dog, has moved to another house
where I think he'll be more settled and happy. His new family are
very experienced dog-owners, with other dogs, a huge garden and they
live in the countryside. He was with us for four months, and we tried
everything we could, two different trainers, intensive one-to-one
residential training, Saturday morning lessons in the park with other
dogs, we even had him neutered to see if it would calm him down a
bit. Eventually it became obvious that he had picked up that I wasn't
as well as I should be, and he was becoming more and more dominant
around me. I was getting bitten several times a day, which is a
concern because I've lost lymph nodes on both sides; any tiny cut
could result in lymphodema, which is a lifelong disability. We also
had to have him on the lead all the time, even indoors, because he
was so destructive with furniture and belongings. It was a tough
decision, because he was also adorable, and sometimes I think you
fall that little bit more in love with the ones with huge
personalities who can be very naughty. We had a few very sad, tearful
days, but there wasn't really any other choice. It was my youngest
who made the decision in the end that he must go, and I was very
proud of his maturity and judgement in doing so.
My
priority has to now be to stay as well as I possibly can for as long
as I possibly can. I've concocted an “anti-cancer” recipe, and
I'm cooking it up in batches and having it for breakfast every
morning. When I can get my act together, I'll take photos as I cook
it and share the recipe here. I've put a lot of research into it, and
I've found a way to combine all the foods that seem to really work to
kick cancer cells into shape. I'm also doing Laughter Yoga every day
– laughing is incredibly good for you, releasing endorphins,
increasing oxygen intake, and boosting your immune system – as well
as drinking green tea by the gallon and forming an on-going
relationship with my exercise bike. Does anyone actually ever get to
like green tea? I loathe the stuff, but it really does work at
keeping cancer cells in their place, so it's three cups of the horrid
stuff regardless.
One thing's coming up that really is a bit exciting, but also will definitely be a bit tear-jerking poignant too. Toby is leaving school soon, and he has his leaver's ball on Friday. He was so proud to try on his new suit to wear to the ball - it's his first ever posh suit and tie, and was thrilled with it.
Toby loving trying on his new suit |
There's
so much else that's going on, mostly great stuff, but some less so.
I'd write non-stop til the week after next and bore you senseless if
I talked about everything. So, until next time, and hopefully it
won't be so long until then, please take care of yourselves and your
favourite people, and I'll do the same.
Hi Yvonne, once again I have to say you are an amazing woman:-) sorry to hear about Steve but it certainly sounds like you sent him to a lovely home where he will have a wonderful life. Take care of yourself x a
ReplyDeleteThank you Adrienne, for your very lovely words and reassurance about Steve too. I was guilt-tripped to hell and back for a bit, but guess what? As you know I hadn't seen any Robins for weeks despite all the time spent in the garden and the park with him, yet I've seen Robins almost every day since he left us, so somebody rather important obviously approves! Love as always xxx
ReplyDeleteI knew the robins would appear, and they came just when you needed them:-) No need to feel guilty about Steve you certainly did your best for him and then found him a wonderful home, x a
ReplyDeleteAdrienne, thank you. I wonder if you and I ever see the same little robin flying backwards and forwards across the sea just keeping an eye on us both, eh? xxx
ReplyDeleteyou never know! they really keep an eye on me, I see them very often and if I don't see them first a sound or a call attracts me to a place where they are, it's such a comfort to me. Maisie and Snoopy send doggy hugs to you x a
ReplyDeleteThank you for the doggy hugs! Robins: the craziest one was a beautiful painting of one on a hospital waiting room wall, and that really made me smile! Hope all's good with you xxx
DeleteHi Yvonne!
ReplyDeleteWoman, you are really living life to the full, and I know people who are well that don't accomplish as much.
Your dog will be so happy--they adapt so much better than we do, I think.
You're doing great, and who really knows how things will turn out?
I think you are doing it perfect--more than perfect, if that's possible. You touch me and inspire me!
Hugs from Alabama,
~Rann
@RannPatterson (Twitter)
Rann, thank you and bless you for your lovely kind words. You're absolutely right about how we never know how life will turn out - we could be hit by a bus tomorrow morning or we might live just long enough until the breakthrough cure is discovered and go on to celebrate our 100th birthdays! What a party that would be! One of the upsides of this diagnosis is that it's a wake-up call, making life seem much more precious and because we are now aware that time is finite, it can make us much more focussed too. Hope everything is great with you at the moment, really appreciate the hugs all the way from across the pond. Love and hugs flying over to you from here, too. Yvonne xxx
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ReplyDeleteI really enjoy your writing, Yvonne, and love the sound of laughter yoga. I shall look it up online to find out more. xx
ReplyDeleteThank you Shelley, I've just read your blog too and "Cherryshit" is my new word of the week! LY is great fun, and very good for you too, you should try it! xx
DeleteHi Yvonne,
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean about those expectations many seem to have. There is no "right" way to do cancer. You have to do things your way and it seems as if you're doing exactly that. Sorry to hear about Steve the dog, but taking care of yourself has to be the priority. And adorable photo of Toby in the suit. Take care.
Nancy, so sorry it's taken me so long to reply - I thought I had but I can't have pressed "publish" properly. This piece certainly seemed to get people thinking and sparked some debate which can't be bad - but I do sometimes feel there is a stereotype that I'm meant to fit, and I just don't, won't and can't! Thank you for all your kind comments, and you look after yourself too, please xxxx
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