August 2011

Baby Spike!

So how are you all? Hope August is going well for you. I'd like to present Spike the newest member of the family! He's the cutest little puss and we're all in love with him. The only one who isn't quite so enthusiastic is Tom - our elder lemon cat. There was a good bit of hissing and swiping followed by sulking and a bit of glowering, but things are getting better. Isn't the weather just awful? The only conclusion I can come to is that it's always been like this. With the exception of a couple of years I reckon any sun-filled summers I had as a child are all in my imagination. I met up with friends and a gang of children a couple of weeks ago. We all brought enough to feed an army and set up camp beside a river in the stunning estate of Powerscourt in Wicklow. Within in a matter of minutes the children were in the river swimming while us mums were wrapped in the picnic rugs looking like we were ready to set off on an adventure to the North Pole. Fair enough the children were shivering when they finally emerged from the river, but once they'd put on dry clothes they were off again. The following day I heard them telling other friends how they'd had a great day and it had been so warm in the river - it was baltic!
So I've done the dreaded school uniform and shoe shopping thing. The books are labelled the rucksacks are ready and by God so am I. I adore my children, they are the light of my life and the reason I get up each day - but dear God above the summer holidays are long. Three whole months they've been here. Enough quality time!
All jokes aside they're actually looking forward to going back. I know the early mornings are going to be a serious shock to the system for them, but I'm a fan of routine. At the moment they're in bed at all hours and getting up around lunch time. It's dreadful. Oh ok I'm just jealous because I get up to work and get stuff done while they're tucked up in the land of nod!
I'm very excited about the paper back of Talk to the Headscarf which hits Irish shops on September 8th. As usual I'd encourage people to buy as many copies of my book as they can carry. I've said it before and I'll say it again - the more copies of my book you buy, the more I'll love you!!

My chemotherapy routine is changing. I'm progressing from weekly sessions to once every three weeks. I was kicked out of hotel Blackrock Clinic last week for being neutropenic - in other words I had no white blood cells and was in danger of becoming too weak. So I was sent home to rest for three weeks. It was frustrating in a way as I knew I was missing out on a session, but there was a fantastic sense of freedom in a guilty way! Instead of spending the day with a freezing cap attached to my head with drugs being pumped through my veins I escaped and went home. I'd organised for the children to be minded so I had a free house! 

I've been seriously tired and the chemotherapy has taken it's tole. My hair is much thinner, but it's hanging in there. My hair pieces and clip on pony tails are a marvel (www.hairspray.ie) and give me such confidence. As I can't swim at the moment I'd taken to walking. The treatment has made me feel bloated and as usually happens with me I've blown up a bit. I never seem to go the other way and get really thin (damn it!). So I decided, lazy slug that I am - that exercise was the only answer. I tried walking and while it's certainly great for clearing my head, it doesn't stop the expanding thighs or melt the wobbly bits. So - dun, dun, dun... I've started jogging on my hubby Cian's treadmill. Well... All I can say is this - what is the attraction with running? Any one? Bueller? Hello? I've finished my first week of running each morning and I can honestly say - I hate it. Despise it and abhor it. I don't get it at all. The only reason I'm keeping it up is the pain. Every bit of me aches. I have pains in places I'd never been aware existed. Each morning I'm having to throw myself out of the bed and ease onto my feet slowly. By the end of the month I'll require the aid of a cherry picker to get me into the bathroom at this rate. What I'm hoping is that all the bits that wobble horribly as I run will tone up soon. That the endorphins that people go on about (are they all lying?) will kick in and I'll have some sort of visitation from Saint Jogger and I will finally see the light. I'll keep you posted but suffice it to say I'm not enjoying any part of it so far. Even as I finish and stagger down off the treadmill it's all awful. I feel like I'm drunk or sea sick and the ground is still moving. The sweating and hyperventilating... Oh no, it's all very uncouth. But I'm going to press on with it. I have my own personal logic with this kind of thing. Any thing that's really good for you either tastes vile or is unpleasant to do. Stuff I love like chocolate and lying in bed are not so good for me and I love both. See? 

If my arms haven't fallen off by next month I'll post up here and let you know how I'm doing. 

Just to finish on a very serious note - If blue and yellow mixed together make green - are leprechauns babies of Smurfs and Simpsons?

I'll leave that for you all to ponder.

Love and light

Emma x

---