You can ring my bell- or not!

So finally we made it to week 12 and my last chemotherapy treatment!

The week in between treatments 11 and 12 was a strange one that brought up lots of stuff for me. I've felt genuinely positive throughout the journey so far. Without a doubt, the weekly routine of blood tests, chemo then rest has helped with this. I've been occupied and able to be part of the treatment process- even if only by ensuring I was in the right place at the right time. Little things like taking responsibility for keeping my veins warm and hydrated for blood tests and cannulas proved to be empowering in a situation that could easily have felt completely out of my control. Exploring diet options to work with the meds protecting my stomach from the effects of the chemo drugs was another way of allowing me to be actively involved in the treatment/recovery cycle. And one of the gifts in this whole situation has been getting to understand my own body better. From the banana and corn flakes I eat for breakfast through to my new comfort food of cheesy mash and quorn escalopes, I'm finding foods that agree with me. I have actively avoided foods that irritate my stomach and feel better for this. The 3 pints of shandy I've drunk since last September have been enjoyable accompaniments to meals out and I'm feeling no desire to drink alcohol on a more regular basis. All in all, being part of a structured and regular routine has worked for me.

I started to be aware of some niggly sensations with the final treatment in sight. I knew where I was with chemo- what to expect, what to do and I knew that any unpleasant side-effects would pass. But what was to come? How would I cope without that structure?

After treatment 11 I had the obligatory rest day but the weekend was busy with Sound events. There's a physical tiredness that comes with setting up and being active for a few hours at a time. However, the deeper relaxation and uplifting healing that comes from those awesome Gongs far outweighs the superficial discomfort. I began the new week with a couple of Reiki days- receiving a treatment on Monday and then a Reiki 1 day 2 on Tuesday. Again physically tiring but with huge energetic benefits. 

Wednesday saw me back in Burnley for blood tests at 9am. Stomach cramps kicked in afterwards as, once again, the chemo pre-meds that protect my stomach wore off before the chemo itself. This necessitated spending the rest of the day in bed to allow the meds I have to deal with the cramps to kick in. And during this rest time those little niggly 'what next' questions  continued to fester away.

Before I knew it, there we were, arriving at the Unit for my final chemo treatment. As if to celebrate the event, my veins were a model of cannula cooperation and I settled into that all familiar Piriton sleep. We had spoken throughout the course of treatments about ringing the bell at the end of the final treatment. But now here we were and it dawned on me that no way could I ring that bell. This was not the end of the treatment. In fact I'd be back at the Unit just 8 days later for my next Herceptin injection. Chris was a bit disappointed and I felt some more stuff coming up for me too. This journey is like a 4-legged chair. The first leg was the surgery- two operations in 5 weeks. The second leg was the course of chemotherapy I was about to complete. But I was barely half way through! Next there was to be the third leg- preparation for and 3 weeks of daily radiotherapy. And the final leg? This would be the longest leg of all- continued Herceptin every 3 weeks, 6-monthly infusions to strengthen my bones and on-going oral medication for 10 years. In short, I wasn't going to be ringing that bell any time soon!

After chemo 12 I went to The Sanctuary for a Crystal Bed treatment then spent some time with a couple of friends before going home to bed. I'm not quite sure what happened overnight. Over the last few months I've been conscious of things being addressed and either sorted or released. Last Autumn I had over 26 000 photographs on my 'phone! I took the decision to go through them all and either delete them or sort them into albums. I realised during the night after chemo 12 that this was a process so much bigger than simply sorting out my iphone! There have been sleepless spells where I've been awake in the night. Sometimes I'd take myself off to my peace and calm meditation place. Sometimes I'd go into Reiki self-healing. Sometimes I'd re-run the previous day using my internal dimmer switch to increase the brightness of the happy moments and turn down the less than pleasant stuff so I couldn't see, hear or feel it. Sometimes I did all of the above! And sometimes none of the above settled my mind. These were the times when I went into the distraction of photo sorting. But I see now it was so much more than a distraction! Memories and images of individual people, places and situations were revisited. Some were lovingly sorted into albums with dates and comments to enable me to find my way back to them with ease. Others were deleted. And oh yes, I sometimes felt so good pressing 'delete'.  This was the dimmer switch process with nobs on! I now have just over 1000 photographs on my 'phone. There's still some sorting to be done. Then again I've never pretended or claimed to be the finished product!

The morning after chemo 12 I woke with so many thoughts. Things that hadn't felt important during treatment now took on an urgency and intensity that seemed overwhelming. I felt, for the first time in a long, long time the sensation formerly known as anxiety. I had chest pains, palpitations and I was breathing and sweating like a bingo-winged granny one number away from shouting 'house'.

We had a lovely weekend planned ahead of us and here was me jeopardising this by feeling crap. So in crept the self-blame and anger! It was all just too much and I found myself putting my head under the duvet, snuggling into Nessidog and having a bit of 'poor me' time. Then all those nasty little thoughts started pecking my head- 'where's your Mindfulness now then?', 'Call yourself a Reiki Master!', 'Reframe this crock of shit then you nob!'. ENOUGH!

Time to dig deep into that toolkit looking for the big guns, the magic spanner, the quick fix gaffer tape to stick my ducks back in their row! Then the reality dawned- time to get back to basics. What could I change here? My thoughts? Not a chance! My feelings? No way! The only thing that was going to have any impact on the tidal wave of emotion I was feeling was to do something- take action. I spoke with Chris about how I was feeling physically and we agreed I probably wasn't having a heart attack and really did need to practically sort some stuff in order to park it. The most pressing concern was a practical financial, legal crock. Something I just couldn't sort myself. I sat with this for a short while before contacting a friend who had helped in a previous similar situation some years before. A few messages and a phone call later and we had a plan- and an appointment for the following week. Within an hour or so, what had become an overwhelming deluge of stuff was dealt with- either sorted or plans in place towards sorting. This done we got ready for that lovely weekend.

A couple of other problems arose but solutions were readily found- not least a detour to Darwen to have the petrol cap broken off the van because it had seized up. By early afternoon I was set up overlooking the estuary near Grange. Dogs walked in the woods and kettle boiling as I waited for Chris to join me.

The weekend was calm and peaceful with the most stunning sunrises. Yes, I did have rather too much early morning thinking time but when the fluffy bunny woo woo stuff didn't shift it, there was the distraction of photograph annihilation! Then back to the calm place I went ready for another gorgeous dawn. Saturday Meditation and lunch at the Manjushri with a lovely friend and a snuggled up evening in the van. Then a trip to Grange on Sunday and a walk along the Prom. It was here that I had a rather lovely experience. We reached a boarded up old building at the end of the Prom and I was quite intrigued as it seemed so out of place amidst the neat, well-tended gardens. I got my phone and took a photograph over the fencing and Wow!  

Blue Lagoon meets Roman Amphitheatre! What we'd stumbled upon was the remains of Grange Lido. What a reminder to look beyond the apparent dull surface to find the treasures within! After a scone and a pot of tea we went back to the van and I spent the evening Googling this stunning piece of history. And what jumped out at me was the strength of feeling and community commitment to restoring the Lido. A powerful reminder of just what groups of people can achieve when they pull together and support each other towards realising a shared goal.

I perhaps overdid things with that Sunday walk as I woke with horrible stomach cramps on Monday. The over ambitious schedule of 5 appointments that I'd set myself were honed down to just 2 cherry-picked arrangements as I cut myself some slack and rested as the meds kicked in. I'm listening to my body more for sure now. And I'm accepting of the need for a break before radiotherapy starts. I feel that this week I've weathered a few storms and potential problems have melted away once I've taken the action required to enable this. And once again, I am left grateful and appreciative of the awesome folks who share this journey with me.

Thanks for reading this blog- I hope it helps you in some way as much as it helps me to write it- and I wish you well.








                                                                                                                        Liz x

Chemo killed the radio start!

Wow, I've been absolutely blown away this week by the reaction to my last blog. To be honest, I was reluctant to post it at the time as it felt rather negative. But I'd promised to be real on this journey so posted it was! Thank-you so much to everyone who  responded with such kindness and humour.

Following my Oncology appointment I received an appointment through really quickly to go for my pre-Radiotherapy planning assessment. I accept the need for a gap in between chemotherapy and radiotherapy. But it was good to know planning was going to start so at least I'd be in the system and there would be no unnecessary delays. I also accept that the bigger picture is that my treatment will continue for the rest of this year and beyond. Herceptin injections every 3 weeks up to October, and moving forward, 6-monthly injections to strengthen my bones and oral medication for up to ten years. I accept all that. In fact I'm grateful for every part of it and the excellent treatment I've received throughout. So I'm not being impatient. I just want to do all I can to get the daily Radiotherapy regime started so it can be over and I can start to get into a recovery rather than a treatment routine. So it was a disappointment when the radio folks phoned to cancel my appointment just as I was setting off. Though the new appointment should still allow treatment to begin soon.

The insights from the long wait for my Oncology appointment have been powerful and I've been able to make sense of some deep rooted core values stuff. I've not disappeared up my own backside to seek out my inner child and feed it Dolly Mixtures, but I've certainly got a far better understanding of some of the stuff that came up for me and where it came from. This has given me the opportunity not only to deal with some stuff but also to celebrate and be grateful for my values and those who helped me develop them.

One of the things that effected me most about my date with Godot last week was the injustice of someone jumping the queue because they shouted the loudest. This led me to look at the bigger picture of injustice and I realise its been something I've been passionate about all my life. The first occasion where I experienced what I felt to be injustice was when I was 4 years old. I attended a Play Group in St.Helens and when it came to Easter time we were all given a little bag of sweets. Girls were given pink bags and boys blue. I wanted a blue bag and couldn't understand why this was not allowed because I didn't have a penis. Of course I rebelled and refused to take the pink chocolates.

Then there were Craft lessons at school as a 7 year old. All of a sudden children were segregated with girls doing sewing while boys made little boats out of balsa wood. My little brain failed to see why my gender necessitated that I had to sit doing cross stitch instead of the far more exciting sawing, gluing and painting of woodwork.  I remember being made to sit outside that junior classroom doing sums because I refused to sew. Then when I eventually relented and picked up the needle, I rebelliously made a rather lovely little mat with a footballer and the words 'Man United' sewn into the centre.

Next came my football ban! At 10 years of age I played for the local village team. My short hair disguised my gender and all was well until I scored a goal in Clock Face Junior's epic 5-1 victory over Chiltern Rovers. My name went on the score sheet and lots of FA chaps in blazers got very cross. Yes the story made the national papers "Goal girl booted out to save the blushes!" The blazored chaps argued that there were no separate changing rooms for girls so I was not allowed to continue playing on the grounds of modesty. But what a load of bollox that was- there were no changing rooms at all- we all wore trackies over our kits and took them off on the touch line! I can still feel the sensations of helplessness when I think about that now even though it happened 48 years ago!

So how have these early experiences impacted on my later life? Well for sure I hate injustice in all forms- with a passion! I was very fortunate to do my teacher training at S.Martin's College in the heady 80s days of Peace Studies and non-oppressive practice. This equipped me with a vocabulary and rationale to tackle needless gender division. There was no need for my classes to be divided into boys and girls lists on the register- so they weren't. There was no need for girls to have pink records files and boys blue. Initially I used yellow and green before getting rid of the different colours altogether. And as for football, I spent many years as Chair of the North West Womens' Regional Football League and became the first Chair of the National Women's Football Alliance. I fought many battles with the blazers- and can't think of one I lost! I bid farewell to the beautiful game once girls and boys could play alongside each other at Primary school and once the FA were forced (screaming and kicking in some cases) to takes responsibility for the further development of the women's game. Yes, there was a rather disconcerting phase were ponytails became as compulsory as shin pads. But hopefully, they were the death throes of misogyny!

So, I think its fair to say that there were gifts in my early experiences of injustice in that they motivated me to make a difference. I knew at an early age that merely complaining doesn't change anything. Accepting that injustice exists and taking action is what counts (whether that be refusing the pink bag of sweets or working at strategic level to change policies and practices). This brought me back once again to question why I didn't speak out and up during my protracted wait in Oncology. Once again, backward looking regret gave way to a forward looking commitment to behave differently in the future. In any situation, we have three potential means of change available to us. Sometimes we can change our thoughts. Sometimes we can change our feelings. And sometimes we just have to do something different- do ANYTHING different!

So all in all, I'm grateful for the experience I had as it has served as a reminder of so much!

Well look at me galloping through my blog without so much as a mention of cannulas, chemicals or ginger biscuits!

The week up to treatment 11 had its ups and downs. I didn't feel too good physically. Symptoms that I'd just dismiss normally had to be taken seriously and I called the chemo support folks for advice. Plenty of fluids, stay in bed and rest and check my temperature regularly. Fortunately it was just a bit of viral nastiness and I was fine in a few days time. And, most importantly, it didn't prevent me having treatment 11.

Perhaps the best medicine of all was an afternoon at the Beacon Of Light group at The Hub. It was so good just to be around such positive folks and the healing powers of Janet's cake made with real love just can't be underestimated!  Sharing, chatting, kindness, just Being! For me it felt like being wrapped up in a big furry blanket of love and care. And after a few days of feeling sorry for myself my positivity was restored!

It was during this week that I had to go for an Echocardiogram as one of the side-effects of my treatment can be damage to the heart. I have to say the Cardiology Department at Blackburn Hospital runs like clockwork. There is a sign up on the wall telling those waiting to inform reception if they've been there for more than 15 minutes. 'Yeah rite' Said I! But sure enough, just a few short minutes after checking in, I was collected and takes down to one of the ECG rooms. The procedure was thorough and professional and less than 40 minutes after parking up, we were back in the car. It would have been even quicker had I not gone back to see the reception staff to tell them how awesome they were!

We decided to go for a ride over to Lytham and it     
was good to be out and about in the fresh air for a
while- and treat ourselves to tea out.







The following day I was over at Burnley for an early blood test before a few hours at The Hub starting a new Reiki course with some lovely folks. And it was another chance to catch up with Hubbits I'd not seen for a while, especially our head gardener who has filled the place with the most beautifully fragrant Hyacinths.




It was a glorious, crisp winters morning when we set off for Burnley for my penultimate chemo treatment. The Sun was still low in the sky and peeping through the trees at the side of the house. We had our usual fun and games on the journey. I'm not sure how the chemo songs came about but Chris's rendition of 'Chemo Flow' to the tune of 'Orinoco Flow' would have brought a tear to the eye of the toughest Womble- not to mention Enya! No cannula issues whatsoever and a nice, relaxed treatment as there were very few other folks in the unit.

After my treatment I went to The Sanctuary for a Crystal Bed treatment and fell into a deep sleep. As I made my way to the door afterwards, something made me decide to go through the café rather than the front door and this led to a synchronicitous meeting with a lovely lady I've not seen for a while. Definitely a conversation we were meant to have. I love it when stuff like that happens! It was good to pause awhile by the snow drops on the Sanctuary lawn planted to remember a dear friend who I think of often. Her wisdom would have been greatly welcomed these last three months-  though sometimes I know exactly what she'd have said! Then home under blue skies to that same view as the morning with the almost full moon peeping through the stark branches.

As many other days have ended along this journey, I very soon found myself snuggled up by the fire with Nurse Nessidog who somehow makes me smile whatever is going on!





So- a week of insights. Plenty of time to 'go within' and in the midst of anything external I'm finding myself spending more and more time in that beautiful still point at the end of the in-breath. Just one chemotherapy treatment left- and how quickly these three months have passed by in many ways. Onwards and upwards and chocks away towards Radiotherapy!

Liz x

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A Godot full day!

So I've finally accepted the need to rest and acknowledge there needs to be convalescence time at the end of my treatment. However, up to this point I've still found myself saying, 'I'm going to rest properly after I've done....'
The intention has been there but I just haven't seemed able to switch off completely. Its not as though there's much that I do that others can't pick up. And there's no 'poor me, I'm not needed' in that. Actually I am delighted by how well The Hub is running without me and the way Chris has stepped into her own power and light is just beautiful to observe. But I so enjoy what I do and gain so much from doing it. I was given a piece of very sound advice recently- to 'cherry pick' the stuff I continue to do. I can qualify that now by adding that I'll continue to do things that make my heart sing and help in my healing. And all I actually did in the week after treatment 9 was lead a Meditation group, a Reiki Share and attend a Mantra Chanting Circle. I also spent time with folks away from The Hub whose wisdom and healing energy  feeds my soul.

Treatment 10 was a double whammy with the Herceptin injection as well as the Paclitaxil chemo. The most immediate side-effect of Herceptin is a thumping headache. The best advice I was given around this was to take a couple of Paracetamol tablets beforehand. I find myself feeling quite agitated and unsettled for a few hours afterwards. The best thing for me at that time is to stay occupied. Reading, chatting, resting but keeping my mind busy as a distraction from what is going on physically for me. Eventually, after a few hours, a deep sleep takes over and I wake up next day feeling much better. This treatment was no exception and I did feel better, if still a bit groggy, on the Friday. And that was the last time I'll have the double whammy, though the Herceptin injections continue every three weeks through to October.

On the Friday afternoon I had a 3pm Oncology appointment at another hospital. The purpose of this was to arrange the Radiotherapy treatment that will follow chemo. We arrived at a disturbingly busy waiting room and I was relieved to see there were three separate clinics using the same reception space. Within 10 minutes I was called in to be weighed, measured and have my BMI calculated. I took off as many layers as I could (Slimming World style) but left my shoes on for that extra bit of height- every little helps! After this we returned to the waiting room and chatted as we watched folks coming and going. An hour or so later, one of the nursing staff came out to apologise and told us there was a 70 minute delay. I wasn't feeling too good with post-chemo fatigue kicking in but I always assume hospital waits are because someone else needs the doctor more than I do. It was clear people with later appointments than me were being called in but I assumed there must be some triage based reasoning behind this. 

At around 4.30pm another patient became quite vocal and threatened to walk out. She shouted that she shouldn't be kept waiting as she was diabetic. Her daughter tried to reason with and reminded her she'd eaten at 2pm and her blood sugars would be fine. However, she became increasingly agitated and eventually walked out. Two kind  nurses went after her, brought her back, gave her a drink and biscuits and took her off to wait in a separate room for the doctor. In effect her outburst got her moved up the list and she was seen before me though her appointment was after mine. In my mind behaviour like that warrants a spell on the naughty step rather than preferential treatment but then again, I don't know that lady's circumstances so its not really for me to judge.

By now it was 5pm. I'd been sitting in a busy, stuffy waiting room for over two hours and was certainly not feeling at my best. Back before the start of chemotherapy, my oncologist warned me to protect myself from picking up infection by avoiding crowds and people who may be ill. How ironic then that I should find myself in just such an environment while waiting to see another oncologist!

Its fair to say I was cross. By now I had a headache, the start of stomach cramps and was feeling tired in that overwhelmingly emotional way that a growing sense of injustice feeds. We were called in by a very apologetic nurse. I asked if I'd have been seen sooner if I'd threatened to walk out. I pointed out that I'd followed previous advice to protect myself from infection and they'd left me in such a situation by keeping me waiting there for so long. I told her I was feeling crap after chemo the previous day. To her credit the nurse made no excuses and apologised unreservedly agreeing that I shouldn't have been kept waiting for so long. There had clearly been a mix up which caused my paperwork to be  mislaid or placed at the bottom of the pile.

On top of feeling angry and emotional I then received news I wasn't expecting and did not welcome. Not only was the radiotherapy treatment going to be longer than expected. There was also going to be a 3-week gap after chemo ended before the next stage could begin. That drags the whole treatment process towards April when I'd hoped everything would be finished by the end of February. I felt that the consultant was patronising and quite insulting. He asked Chris how I was psychologically. I tried to explain that I've been doing really well and staying positive throughout treatment. But all he had before him was an angry, emotional, bald, complaining old woman who must have looked nothing short of completely shite.

We eventually left the hospital just before 6pm. Chris and I had travelled separately. Nothing to do with royal protocol, Chris had been over in Chorley for lunchtime Gongs. I won't pretend I felt at my best to drive so just sat a while in the van. A rummage in the glove compartment found a chocolate bar that I thought would give me a boost. I took a bite then placed it on the dashboard as I started to manoeuvre towards the exit. As I turned onto the main road my chocolate bar flung itself to the floor. That really was the last straw and I heard myself screaming "just what I need right now, a fucking careless Whispa!" I'm not sure how emotions change so quickly but I went from proper sorry for myself anger to crazed laughter in seconds. And as I drove down the hill away from the hospital, both extremes gave way to tears.

Its fair to say that neither of us were at our best that evening. We unpicked what had happened and there was talk of a letter of complaint. I was exhausted. Chris lit the fire, we ate a comfort food supper of cheesy mash and quorn escalopes and I drifted into a coma of a sleep on the sofa before waking briefly around midnight to go to bed.

I woke early the next day and straight away my mind drifted back to the hospital. What were these sensations that were coming up?
Injustice! It was so unfair that someone should be moved ahead of me in the queue simply because they complained. I was a good girl. I sat quietly and waited without complaining.
Rejection! Someone else was treated with compassion while I was feeling dreadful and deserved to be treated kindly but wasn't.
Helplessness! At no point did I feel able to say or do anything to change what was happening to me.
Worthlessness! Everyone else in that waiting room mattered more than me, hence I was last to be seen.

As I sat with these thoughts and the feelings that came up I started to realise that the only person I was really angry with in the situation was myself. I shared what had happened with a friend- a proper rant it was. How could I be so weak as to just sit there without speaking out? Why did I value myself so little that I remained in a situation that put my health at risk? Why was I so stupid? Rather than get caught up in the drama of the situation or feed my anger in any way, my very wise friend simply asked me what I would do next time such a situation occurred.

What could I have done? What would I do next time? What would I advise others to do in a similar situation?

Well firstly, the nursing staff on duty were clearly kind and compassionate. However, they didn't know how I was feeling. Neither did they know I'd had chemotherapy the day before. So I could have made this known. May-be my situation would even have trumped Mrs Grumpy-I-need-a-biscuit! Second, I could have taken control of the waiting room situation and asked was there somewhere else I could wait. Or even asked if I could go and wait in the car and got them to call me on my mobile when my turn came. At the very least, I could have politely enquired when I could expect to be seen. I remain truly grateful for our wonderful NHS and the fantastic treatment I have received over the last few months. However, the staff on duty that day were not mind readers and I had a responsibility to take charge of the situation I was in and speak out in positive, constructive ways.

It was clear from my reaction to what happened and how deeply it affected me emotionally that the situation tapped in to some old stuff around injustice, rejection and feeling helpless and worthless. One gift in the situation is I now have opportunity to sit with this and address the core values stuff that comes up with these emotions.

The day after the oncology appointment I found myself in the cherry-picked environment of The Hub working with a lovely group of folks in a Vision Board Workshop. What a gift of a situation just as I was contemplating how to draw new ways of responding into my life! As always, being surrounded by positive, genuine folks was healing in itself. As for my vision board-there are no material requirements. Rather, what I hope to attract into my life this coming year is 'Health', 'Peace' and an increased ability to 'Go within'.

So, not really a fluffy bunny blog this week but there's definitely a rainbow at the end of that rather grim storm!

Liz x

 
 

 

The old woman in the mirror

 2019 began with a beautiful Sound Bath at The Dojo.  Numbers don't really matter at our events as we do what we do because we believe we should. If few folks attend then they must need to be in a smaller group. If no one turns up, then that's the diary angels gifting us with time for us. I don't need to know why such things happen. Its just about trust and positive intention. New Year's Day however, was one of those events when lots of folks chose to join us. Confirmation of the wonderful Dojo energy and all that folks gain from being there.

There was talk of intentions and 'Team Hubbit' was launched as Chris shared her resolution to start running again. For many years Chris supported me in my sporting days. Waiting as I lummoxed my way around the London Marathon and other races, standing on cold touchlines as I did battle with football and hockey opponents and various referees. The woman has been a legend and its so good now that I can support her in following her heart and dusting off her trainers!

It was back to hospital for bloods the day after and no problem whatsoever with my veins. Staying hydrated and keeping my hand warm has made such a difference and its so good to know there's stuff I can do rather than just leaving it to chance. Wednesday evening and a meal out with a lovely friend marked the end of the Christmas break and we were back at chemo on Thursday.

All went well once again with the cannula and completely giving in to the tiredness and other effects of the treatment allowed them to pass more quickly. It was a longer day as I was back at the hospital late afternoon for an oncologist appointment. So after chemo we went to The Sanctuary. I had an hour or so deep sleep under the healing lights of the Crystal Bed and Chris had lunch and a catch up with some lovely friends.

Back at the hospital, we had quite a long wait but that's no hardship in a warm reception area with stuff to read and no inhibitions about nodding off. And a long wait simply tells us someone else needs the specialist's time, attention and patience a bit more than we do. The appointment itself proved a positive review of progress and put plans in place for the journey beyond chemo. There was the usual prescribing of new meds to address symptoms and side-effects and discussion of the next stage in my treatment. The Radiotherapy details have yet to be decided. The most appealing scenario is that it will be just two weeks of daily treatments. However, it could be up to four weeks. I don't relish that daily trek to Preston and the treatment itself isn't on my list of 'favourite fab days out and adventures'. Within the uncertainty and resistance on my part, I trust that the Oncologist I will see after treatment 10 will make the decisions that are in my best interests.

I noticed some unfamiliar thoughts and sensations emerging with the return to chemo. Realisations really I guess. Throughout this whole journey there has been a sense of detachment that has served me well. However, when thoughts and feelings break through the protective cordon of resilience it can be quite unnerving. And for the first time recently I have experienced a sensation that can best be described as 'fear'. I guess the way I deal with fear is to identify it and tackle it through positive self talk, reassurance and humour. But something tells me I have to sit with this particular fear sensation, look it in the eyes and learn from it. And that is quite a solitary part of the journey. I guess if this dance was the 1970s Osmonds on stage, this part would be the bit where the other brothers got pissed off with little Jimmy and shoved him out front to do 'Long Haired Lover from Liverpool'. And switching into that image immediately lightens the sensation and brings the humour that makes all things possible. This thing I have labelled 'fear' is just a feeling. A stage of the dance to be passed through- hopefully without falling over my own feet or resorting to flared trousers and a wig with an unfortunate side parting!

The other realisation recently has been about the effects the treatment so far has had on my body. Its only really when I push myself too hard that I become aware of the fatigue. And the way my body is communicating with me is changing. My early warning system of the need to rest has always been a sore throat. I guess my clever old body knew it needed something a bit stronger to slow me down and its now stomach cramps that get my attention and force me to rest. But we really are ambling along in a much more accepting and restful way these days!

Chris and I decided to have a couple of nights away in the camper van. We've been looking for a site about an hour from home that we can have as a quick and easy get-away, and found an open-all-year-round site near Grange. So the Friday after chemo Chris went off to do the lunchtime Gong Bath and I chucked some stuff into the van. We were on the road for 4pm and parked up, hooked up and waiting for the kettle to boil by just after 5pm. As I've written before, time away in the van is the perfect way for me to relax. The field hospital bag of meds I take with me allows me to deal with most physical stuff that comes up. And the proximity to home on this trip meant I could be back quickly if I needed IV antibiotics.

So we were able to really relax. A good sleep, waking up to a lovely view of the estuary, a morning spent reading and listening to the CDs we bought for each other at Christmas, then a trip over to the Manjushri to be in the gorgeous energy there and eat scones. Saturday was exactly the day we'd hoped it would be. It was Sunday morning when I went for a shower that really gave me the realisation about my body.

My view on the physical has always been that there are two choices if you don't like what you see when you look in the mirror. Choice 1 is to do something to change. And in the past, when I've noticed I've put on a few pounds or am looking a bit pasty, I would choose to get out into the fresh air and exercise. The other choice of course is to not look in the mirror at all. And its the second choice I've been favouring since having surgery back in September. That morning in the shower block I came face to face with the physical reality of what the last few months has done to my body. Yes, the blue dye is still there and that just took me back to all the 'blue tit' jokes of the early days! But I barely recognised the old woman who looked back at me and had to dig deep to find reframes for reassurance. Yes I've saved a few bob in razors and haven't needed to give any attention to the former rain forest areas of my legs and armpits. But when did the hit squad of intimate waxers join the party? I'd almost looked forward to body hair loss and pictured myself flinging the window open and gifting whole squadrons of birds with nesting material. Instead, it appears the Borrowers came by night to slyly stuff duvets with what was once attached to me! And that 'bit of a rash' I've got meds and cream for now covers most of my body. Its fair to say the pallor of my skin is not unlike I imagine tripe under moonlight to look. I certainly won't be looking in many mirrors for the foreseeable future and my shower experience sent me off to ponder the gift in this realisation. 

Yes I've finally accepted and embraced the need to rest during treatment. I now accept that the impact the treatment has had on my physical body will require recovery time. It certainly won't be a case of Yaaay, treatment's over, lets get back to long days and operating at 90 MPH. I will need to rest, recuperate and heed the many lessons about listening when my body whispers so that it doesn't have to shout!

So its been a week of rest and occasional insights, both of which I give thanks for. And I consider myself very fortunate to have the love and support of some truly wise and consistent folks along the way.  



From within my Winter of Content I'm starting to glimpse some little shoots just breaking the surface in the form of new ways of looking at things. And for this and the accompanying peace which it brings, I am very grateful.

   

Liz x

New Year New Acceptance

There felt to be something significant about treatment 8. Maybe it was because it marked the transition into the last third of the planned programme. With the battering treatment 7 gave me, I'd had no alternative than to rest more and by the end of the week I felt better than I have in months. Due to the Christmas break, I had a couple of days extra rest before treatment 8 and so I felt really well on Christmas Day and Boxing Day. I enjoyed the lovely dinners Chris cooked and this was such a welcome and unexpected respite. We even had a walk with the dogs on Christmas Day and it was great to be outdoors, albeit wearing a Father Christmas hat complete with beard. I've not been well you know!  

It felt like treatment 7 was the first time I completely gave in and didn't fight to keep going. Part of me was a bit disappointed with myself but feeling so good by Christmas was confirmation that I just have to do this for the remainder of the chemo.
I've been working with Sound quite a bit these last few weeks- just playing the Gongs for a short while each day. I find it so relaxing and the best way for me of approaching anything near real relaxation and meditation. On Boxing Day I shared a Sound treatment with Chris. This was special for me as she has been so supportive and giving right the way through since diagnosis. Not only has Chris looked after me and put up with me in the low times, she's also stepped in and done so much more at The Hub. So to share a Sound treatment with her and see her relax completely was lovely. And the snores could be heard in Great Harwood! 

27th December saw us back at Burnley bright and
early. I had to have my bloods done first thing so the results were back in time for the chemo at 1pm. Once again my veins were on their best behaviour. I think this is to do with ensuring I'm properly hydrated and keep my hand warm- as well as the expertise of the nursing staff. A lovely friend gave me some long gloves and these have been brilliant. In fact, I've not had a problem with the veins since I've been wearing them. I also run my hand under the hot tap just before blood tests and cannula insertion and this helps too. The staff have been so patient about this and its looking like I may get through the treatment without the PICC line afterall. As we had a couple of hours to spare, we went to a local factory outlet and did a bit of sale shopping then had a lovely pot of tea and cheese on toast in their café. Back at the hospital, my bloods were fine so it was cannula time. And once again- wallop! In first time! I'm not used to such an early start and I was tired before the chemo began and very quickly drifted off into that piriton induced sleep.

I don't remember much about the rest of the afternoon and slept most of the way home. Chris lit the fire and I put my head down in the front room for a little nap at 4.30. The next thing I knew it was 11pm. I was a bit concerned I'd not sleep at night but after a couple of cups of tea and a wash, I drifted back to sleep and next thing I knew it was morning. I do think this is all to do with me stopping fighting the chemo. If I had one bit of advice for anyone starting on this path it would be to give in. I don't mean wallow in it and be a sick person. I just mean let yourself sleep and heal.

The day after the treatment I did a bit of pottering with the camper van to get some fresh air. Just topping up the water and putting the battery on to charge and simple stuff like that. We lit the gas fire and just relaxed in the van for a while planning the trips we'd like to make in the new year. It was good to be in the van and inevitably the conversation went
to all the places we've been this year.

The reality of our lives is that we don't have time for holidays as such and the idea of the van was to be able to get away for a day or so at a time. 'Van days' are a bit like 'dog years' in that they feel so much longer than an ordinary day. I sleep so well in the van and can really switch off. The van has certainly lived up to all expectations and this was a lovely, nourishing way to spend the afternoon. I was tired afterwards and Chris did a Sound treatment for me and left me to sleep while she cooked supper. Just perfect to be able to rest deeply and I noticed so fewer physical side-effects from treatment 8.


 The following day we decided to take the van out for a run and drove over to the coast. It was so peaceful and I so enjoyed watching the sun set. Once again we had time to chat and reflect and plan some adventures. But most of all we had that precious time just to be.


I'd not felt up to doing anything for my birthday earlier in December and so we'd agreed to wait 'til I felt up to a meal out. So with a bit of spontaneity, we called at Tiggis on the way home for our favourite treat. The perfect end to a rather
lovely day. 

The day afterwards was a necessary rest day when I allowed myself to stay in bed until supper time. But that's OK. I've finally got the message!


So, I'm writing now on New Year's Day. Yesterday we had our 'Drumming the Year Down' gathering at The Hub and Dojo. This is the 4th year we've held this event and it feels so right to bring people together at the end of the year to reflect and look forward. Yesterday's focus was very much on Gratitude. I've read so much lately where people are saying 2018 has been a terrible year and they're glad to see the back of it. I get that and I know many folks didn't have the best of times. However, if we move into a new year carrying those negative thoughts, guess what energy we're bringing with us into 2019! So yesterday we sat in Circle. Two Circles as we created a small group in The Hub and a larger group in The Dojo. One thing I've become aware of recently is that many people have a preference for a small group learning and sharing environment. So, though the two groups idea yesterday emerged because of numbers and the idea of energetically linking the Hub and Dojo with Drumming, I also see it as confirmation of the need to respect and cater for people's preference in terms of group size. 30 years in education and an awareness of learning styles and preference tell me this makes sense pedagogically as well as on compassionate grounds.

Anyway, we sat in Circle and shared Mantra, Pagan and Shamanic Chants within a space of reflection on the positives of 2018. Sharing when comfortable to do so, this hopefully enabled those present to carry that energy of positivity forward into this year. We came home and had a quiet evening and I was asleep long before midnight!

Today I awoke to this beautiful sky. The WooWoo old Soul in me sees an Angel watching over us above Rishton reservoir. The mischievous nob head in me sees vapour trails. Both parts are equally welcome and valid and one of the positives I'm carrying into 2019 is a love and acceptance of my lovely but sometimes naughty Inner Nobhead!

Today is another peaceful day in the Whittall-Hill household- apart from our New Year Sound Bath this afternoon. Tomorrow its blood test day, then treatment 9 the day after. And all is well in my world!

So I start 2019 by wishing all who read this the very best for the coming year. With much Love and Gratitude for your support and encouragement.

Liz x