Happy bank holiday weekend to my Irish friends! So far the weather is gorgeous in Bray. Mum, Herbie and I had a beautiful walk this morning. The trees are stunning with the array of colour bursting through the changing leaves. It really is worth going somewhere with a wooded walk. We went to Powerscourt in Enniskerry (pictured below) and it was incredible. I reckon that even the most cranky person would come away from a walk up there with a smile on their face.
I’m feeling really good, better every day and I’m trying to rebuild my strength and help my body to deflate, I’m still not loving the blown up version of Emma. I’m taking each day as it comes. But I would love to go back to the way I was – the way I’ve always been. I don’t have the energy to go mad so it’ll be a slow but steady progress. I’m learning to be patient with my body. I’m not great at it. I want to wake up tomorrow and be the size I was and look in the mirror and see the face I was used to rather than the puffy person I’ve become. I know it might sound like I’m meowing about a silly thing but I’ve looked similar all my life. I’ve been the same dress size and although there are wrinkles showing, I can cope with that. In fact it doesn’t bother me. But this bloated tummy and face thing is awful. My face being so puffy is an obvious sign that I’m sick. Before I could disguise it most of the time with a wig or makeup. But there’s no getting away from this. So the sooner I deflate and go back to looking the way I always did, the better. I’m sure others who have been through cancer treatments can understand where I’m coming from.
I went to hospital on Thursday, as usual, for the next bag of chemotherapy. A part of me was bracing myself because I tend to be sick that night and the following day, but it’s doing what I need and killing the cancer. It’s also helping with the deflating thing. But frustratingly I wasn’t allowed to have it again. This is the second week in a row that I wasn’t able to have it. I cannot tell you how peeved I was. It’s ridiculous of me to be so upset because my doctor explained that I’d end up in hospital if he went ahead and treated me. My bloods are just too low. So I ended up with two blood transfusions instead. As always, I don’t apologise for going on about the generosity of blood doners, so thank you, thank you a million times thank you for your selfless act so I can get better.
When I hear I can’t get the cancer killing chemotherapy I instantly want to lie on the floor and bawl like a toddler. But then the moment passes and panic takes over so I go from being cross to being terrified… What if I can never have it again and the cancer spreads like a weed all through my body by next week? Then rationale kicks in and I simply have to accept it.
The thought of ending up in hospital isn’t a great one, especially because my kids are on half term next week and hubby is away. But as most people who are undergoing treatment will agree, there’s a psychological build up each time chemo day looms. While I know it’s going to make me feel rotten for a couple of days, it’s killing the bastard cancer, so yay for the chemo! Fingers crossed my bloods will recover and I’ll be able to have it next week. See! That sounds rational and grown up doesn’t it? Between you and I, if I can’t have it again I think I might have to resort to the tantrum on the floor option.
Hubby has gone to do an ironman – if you’re not familiar with this, it’s a form of torture where humans willingly swim 3.8 kilometres then go straight onto a bike for approx 180 kilometres followed by a full marathon of 42 kilometres. Not only is there no break in between but the transition (triathlon speak for changing from one discipline to another) could mean the difference between winning or loosing a placing. So transition needs to be done with precision and speed. Even thinking about it makes me feel queasy and exhausted. But he’s gone off with his bike and more Lycra than you could shake a stick at, delighted that his training will be put to the test. I hope he does well and I wish him the very best but the whole concept it beyond me. Opposites attract!
As it’s a bank holiday weekend here in Ireland I plan on doing doggy walking, attempting to follow where teenager #1 and teenager #2 are, who they’re with and what time they’ll be home. Being a parent to a teenager isn’t easy is it? I want them to have fun and they aren’t doing anything I didn’t do. But that doesn’t stop it all being scary as hell. I have a very over active imagination and I lay in bed thinking all sorts of scenarios and none of them are good. The relief that floods over me when they are both home and the doors are locked and the alarm is set…
Tom the cat is doing brilliantly as he recovers from his surgery. His little furry trousers are growing back very well. His limp is improving and he’s a little trooper. Herbie the dog is in my bad books however. He ate the corners off four of my cushions and my daughter had a few friends over the other evening and he did rude things to a larger cushion. We had a stern conversation about it all but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t care that much. I was on my hunkers while we chatted – I used the method that is supposed to work with toddlers and got down to his level. But he kept trying to lick my face and moments later he was back in the living room humping a cushion again. We love Herbie dearly but as I’ve told you before, he’ll never be in doggy Mensa. So in retrospect I needn’t have bothered having the chat.
I got the most gorgeous clothes from a reader called Gaby. We’ve never met and she offered me some of the range of the clothes she sells. She was incredibly generous and as I opened the parcel more and more items came out. The range is called www.captaintortuegroup.com
It’s mostly day dresses and tunics with matching scarves but my hands-down favourite piece is a silver puffa jacket. It’s not the colour of tin foil, we all want to avoid the turkey in the oven look. Instead it’s a soft matt colour that goes with everything. It’s as light as a feather and yet it keeps me warm. I don’t know how to thank Gaby for her kindness but maybe some of you might check out her website and buy one of each thing so I feel better about taking so many things for free. I offered to pay and she wasn’t having any of that idea. So if you’d go and spend a few grand each I’d be very much obliged.
If that wasn’t enough my friend Kathryne sent me a Max-Benjamin candle and it’s divine. So delicious that I’d be tempted to drink the wax. But that would cause untold problems and I think I’ve enough going on without having to be rushed to A&E with a burn oesophagus, so I’ve decided against the drinking and will go with enjoying smelling it instead. The aroma is “Elysium” and it comes in a deep pink coloured box with gold trim – what’s not to love?
From now until Thursday, I will be speaking to my blood and warning it that it had better behave. I need that chemotherapy to get rid of the cancer. It’s been going on too long at this stage and Christmas is around the corner. I know we’re not meant to mention the C word but I can’t help it. I just adore Christmas and the most fabulous thing happened this week. I got a white Christmas tree! I’ve wanted one for years but they’re so expensive. A friend happened to be selling one and I snapped it up! It’ll go in the hallway and will match perfectly with the soldiers that fell into my car last week. I can totally blame the teenagers for the soldiers. They were far too beautiful to leave behind. They’re red and blue and gold and the white tree has blue lights and red decorations. I know! It would’ve been rude to leave it behind. I knew you’d agree! So as soon as Halloween is over I will begin rustling in bags getting things ready for December 1st when the tree erecting will begin. I can’t wait. The whole house will sparkle and twinkle and we’ll go around with flecks of glitter on our faces and clothing for a month – fab-u-lous!!
So there’s another reason to get better and have the chemotherapy and get stronger. I’ll need energy to put up seven trees. Hubby is a ba-humbug-er so he’s no help. In fact he would try and shove a tree into his jeep and dump it in a skip. So all the decorating needs to be done quickly.
I’ve plenty of time but I have to say the arrival of the white tree has made me want to pretend it’s December. But I’m afraid I’d end up divorced if he returned from his Ironman to find the house transformed into a winter wonderland.
Have a great weekend one and all! Chat to you soon,
Love and light