As I write this, there's snow on the ground. Not a lot of snow, but enough to disrupt the transport system, it would seem. I don't remember my school closing because of snow when I was growing up (in a place much colder and with harsher winters than the South-East of England) - am I viewing the past through the rosy lenses of nostalgia? Were the summers endlessly long, always sunny and full of laughter? Maybe not, but perhaps my old school friends might remember if our school stayed open whatever the weather - I seem to recall the only days the school was closed was when the teachers went on strike!!
The snow started falling on Friday, as I was driving to the Marsden for my three-monthly check-up. Anxious enough about the check-up, as always, the anticipation of poor weather and difficult driving conditions heightened my nerves. The hospital car park was pretty empty and I did wonder if my check-up would go ahead or whether the doctors would have struggled to get in and I might be told to return another day - not a prospect I relished, as I still have to psyche myself up before the appointment and I would have to go through that process all over again. Luckily for me, however, the Head and Neck clinic doctors had managed to get in, although a lot of patients were phoning in to say they couldn't travel to hospital and the waiting room was much emptier than usual!
Of course, the important thing is how the check-up went, not whether the waiting room was empty. After the usual physical examination of my head and neck and a look inside my mouth, the registrar pronounced that everything is fine - phew! All it means is that I remain in remission and there is no sign of the cancer returning in that area, but to be honest, that's as good as I can expect and hope for at this stage. It doesn't mean the medics are prepared to give me an all clear and state categorically that I am free of cancer, but it means that I am now a year in remission - pretty bloody good when I think of how I felt for most of 2011 and the thought of being alive in 2013 seemed like an impossible dream. I can't stop cancer by willpower - if we could, how wonderful would that be? - but I can give myself the best possible chance of remaining healthy by taking responsibility for my health and eating sensibly, exercising, resting and avoiding risk factors. That doesn't mean I don't enjoy life - quite the reverse. It just means I am giving myself the best chance of being able to deal with any health problems that come my way.
The other side of my cancer coin is the facial palsy. On January 3rd, I went to the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead to have my gold weight (aka "eyelid bling") repositioned and my eyelid lift. I had to be there for half seven in the moring, which meant waking my lovely children in time to drive me there (neither of them was working that day, so they volunteered to take me - good children!). The surgeon came to talk to me before the operation and - to my pleasure - he said he thought I didn't need the gold weight any more and was going to remove it. Yay! He also thought I was a bit allergic to the gold (oh, I am so precious!) so it made sense to remove it. The important thing was whether I would be able to close my eye fully after the weight was removed and if I couldn't, then the next stage would be a platimun chain inserted into the eyelid - rising up the precious metal scale!
Now, nearly three weeks after the surgery, my eye looks much more like it used to BC. While it's not exactly as it was, and not exactly like my unaffected eye, it is far less noticeably different. This is progress. This helps me feel that I look more like everyone else and a bit more like I used to look. It also reminds me that it doesn't have to be all about oncology. A part of me also thinks that the NHS wouldn't be investing all this time and money in addressing my facial palsy if they thought that I was going to be ill again - perhaps this is naive, but it makes me feel better anyway :-) In a flurry of January medical appointment, I also had some Botox around my mouth, so I am all procedured-up.
Part of me feels a bit sad that my year has started with so many medical appointments, all of them necessary because of having had cancer. What a nasty, far-reaching disease it is! But another part of me rejoices that I am still here and enjoying life, that I have so many wonderful, supportive friends around me, that my family continues to be a constant joy to me and that the world contunues to turn. There's much to be thankful for. I am thankful.
Showing posts with label head and neck cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label head and neck cancer. Show all posts
Monday, 21 January 2013
Friday, 14 December 2012
A little weekend away.....
My last blog was written the day we had the press launch of Facial Palsy UK. Since then, the charity has had a very respectable amount of coverage in the press and on tv and radio as well. I have had to break the habits of a lifetime and buy some newspapers that I would normally not allow over the threshold, but I took the view that it was for a greater good.....still felt a bit soiled though, and I don't mean from newsprint rubbing off on my hands! It's interesting how long-held principles can be put to one side when something assumes a greater importance.
It has been great to see the number of people liking our pages on Facebook - raising the profile of FPUK is absolutely vital. I'm more frustrated and disappointed than ever that I haven't managed to get a place in the 2013 London Marathon, as it would have been a great opportunity to raise money and publicity for the charity. On the other hand, I do feel very aware that I approach the same pool of very generous friends to sponsor me for (undeniably) good causes and I think it's probably a good thing to take some time out from holding out the begging bowl! So, all you lovely people, you can breathe easily and know that I won't be sending out my usual begging email.
In other news, Neil and I went to Krakow for a long weekend. We'd never been to Poland before and weren't planning on going away at all (we tend to go away every other year to Austria to visit the Christmas markets and we weren't due to go away this December ), but we made a fairly spontaneous decision to go away and picked Krakow. Neil spent hours researching hotels, restaurants, museums and other attractions, as is his wont. We have different, complementary, approaches to holidays. I am happy just to know where we are going, but Neil likes to plan things and research things a lot more so that we get the most out of our time away. It always works, as we seem to pack a lot into our times away, but without feeling that we are wearing ourselves out!
One of the things we wanted to do when in Krakow was go to Auschwitz. That might sound a bit
odd, planning to visit a place of such suffering during a mini-break, but we felt it was important, almost a mark of respect, that we go. There were about 30 of us on the bus from Krakow to Auschwitz and we were totally silent all the way there. It was as if we were preparing for the sombreness and seriousness of what awaited us when we disembarked. It started snowing as we travelled, which seemed somehow appropriate to the setting.
Entry to Auschwitz is free, as stipulated by its survivors. Once through the barriers, it's a short walk to the tall iron gates with those chilling words "Arbeit macht frei" - I've seen them in so many films, but standing there, imagining how thousands of people might have felt walking under those three little words, was a different kind of reality. There's nothing sensationalist about how the museum presents itself. It doesn't need to add any Disney-esque exaggeration because the facts are dramatic enough and almost unspeakable in their scale. Everything is displayed with quiet dignity but with huge impact. Mountains of human hair, hacked from the heads of those arriving, some hanks of hair still with ribbons tied round them. Piles and piles of children's shoes, tiny sizes. Twisted metal spectacles. Pots and pans, brought in the naive belief that those rounded up and herded onto planes were really going to a labour camp, not to be executed. Row upon row upon row of black and white photos of prisoners, all in the striped uniform of the camp, with names, dates of birth, arrival in Auschwitz and death printed underneath. Occasionally, a flower tucked behind the frame of a photo, left by a relative. The sheer scale of it is hard to convey. Walking around, snow falling, feeling cold despite our 21st century warm clothing didn't even give us a fraction of an insight into how unspeakably cold and desolate it must have been for inmates. The fact that anyone survived those conditions is little short of a miracle, really.
You might think that visiting Auschwitz would throw a blanket of sadness over our whole weekend, but it didn't - a little to my surprise, I have to admit. We had already spent two days in Krakow, visiting the zoo, various churches, Christmas markets and a fabulous underground museum and had saved Auschwitz till our last full day. We didn't go to Auschwitz 2 -Birkenau; by the time we had spent several hours going round Auschwitz, we both felt we had had sufficient reminders of man's inhumanity without seeing any more.
Krakow itself is beautiful and luckily everyone speaks English, because our attempts to speak Polish were pitiful! I can't find any reference points between Polish and any other language I can speak, so it is a complete mystery to me. It took us four days to be able to say anything approximating the word for "thank you" that might be understood by a Polish speaker! Lovely hotel, right in the middle of town and close to the main town square, plenty of fabulous restaurants and everything seemed very cheap - result!!
Nothin new to report on the health front - I'm not due for a check-up with my oncologist until January, so plenty of time for the nerves and anxiety to kick in. I'm going to a Head and Neck Cancer support group meeting tomorrow in Maidstone, although I'm starting to question how helpful these are for me. I feel almost as if I don't want to be reminded of the fact that I have had cancer through actively going to groups like this. I know what's happened to me and my regular check-ups are reminder enough. Do I really need to seek out something which will remind me of my darkest days? Then again, this is a group which in itself is really positive and friendly, so perhaps there is something to be gained from spending time with others who have gone through something similar. Perhaps there is something I can give others in the group. I am not sure. I almost feel as if my emphasis has shifted to my facial palsy and my involvement with FPUK suggests that I am ready to move on to a more forward looking position. Does that make sense? I *think* it does. I shall go tomorrow and review the situation afterwards.
Starting to gear up for Christmas now - Adam comes home from university next week and I am so looking forward to having my little family complete again. Then Christmas can begin!
It has been great to see the number of people liking our pages on Facebook - raising the profile of FPUK is absolutely vital. I'm more frustrated and disappointed than ever that I haven't managed to get a place in the 2013 London Marathon, as it would have been a great opportunity to raise money and publicity for the charity. On the other hand, I do feel very aware that I approach the same pool of very generous friends to sponsor me for (undeniably) good causes and I think it's probably a good thing to take some time out from holding out the begging bowl! So, all you lovely people, you can breathe easily and know that I won't be sending out my usual begging email.
In other news, Neil and I went to Krakow for a long weekend. We'd never been to Poland before and weren't planning on going away at all (we tend to go away every other year to Austria to visit the Christmas markets and we weren't due to go away this December ), but we made a fairly spontaneous decision to go away and picked Krakow. Neil spent hours researching hotels, restaurants, museums and other attractions, as is his wont. We have different, complementary, approaches to holidays. I am happy just to know where we are going, but Neil likes to plan things and research things a lot more so that we get the most out of our time away. It always works, as we seem to pack a lot into our times away, but without feeling that we are wearing ourselves out!
One of the things we wanted to do when in Krakow was go to Auschwitz. That might sound a bit
odd, planning to visit a place of such suffering during a mini-break, but we felt it was important, almost a mark of respect, that we go. There were about 30 of us on the bus from Krakow to Auschwitz and we were totally silent all the way there. It was as if we were preparing for the sombreness and seriousness of what awaited us when we disembarked. It started snowing as we travelled, which seemed somehow appropriate to the setting.
Entry to Auschwitz is free, as stipulated by its survivors. Once through the barriers, it's a short walk to the tall iron gates with those chilling words "Arbeit macht frei" - I've seen them in so many films, but standing there, imagining how thousands of people might have felt walking under those three little words, was a different kind of reality. There's nothing sensationalist about how the museum presents itself. It doesn't need to add any Disney-esque exaggeration because the facts are dramatic enough and almost unspeakable in their scale. Everything is displayed with quiet dignity but with huge impact. Mountains of human hair, hacked from the heads of those arriving, some hanks of hair still with ribbons tied round them. Piles and piles of children's shoes, tiny sizes. Twisted metal spectacles. Pots and pans, brought in the naive belief that those rounded up and herded onto planes were really going to a labour camp, not to be executed. Row upon row upon row of black and white photos of prisoners, all in the striped uniform of the camp, with names, dates of birth, arrival in Auschwitz and death printed underneath. Occasionally, a flower tucked behind the frame of a photo, left by a relative. The sheer scale of it is hard to convey. Walking around, snow falling, feeling cold despite our 21st century warm clothing didn't even give us a fraction of an insight into how unspeakably cold and desolate it must have been for inmates. The fact that anyone survived those conditions is little short of a miracle, really.
You might think that visiting Auschwitz would throw a blanket of sadness over our whole weekend, but it didn't - a little to my surprise, I have to admit. We had already spent two days in Krakow, visiting the zoo, various churches, Christmas markets and a fabulous underground museum and had saved Auschwitz till our last full day. We didn't go to Auschwitz 2 -Birkenau; by the time we had spent several hours going round Auschwitz, we both felt we had had sufficient reminders of man's inhumanity without seeing any more.
Krakow itself is beautiful and luckily everyone speaks English, because our attempts to speak Polish were pitiful! I can't find any reference points between Polish and any other language I can speak, so it is a complete mystery to me. It took us four days to be able to say anything approximating the word for "thank you" that might be understood by a Polish speaker! Lovely hotel, right in the middle of town and close to the main town square, plenty of fabulous restaurants and everything seemed very cheap - result!!
Nothin new to report on the health front - I'm not due for a check-up with my oncologist until January, so plenty of time for the nerves and anxiety to kick in. I'm going to a Head and Neck Cancer support group meeting tomorrow in Maidstone, although I'm starting to question how helpful these are for me. I feel almost as if I don't want to be reminded of the fact that I have had cancer through actively going to groups like this. I know what's happened to me and my regular check-ups are reminder enough. Do I really need to seek out something which will remind me of my darkest days? Then again, this is a group which in itself is really positive and friendly, so perhaps there is something to be gained from spending time with others who have gone through something similar. Perhaps there is something I can give others in the group. I am not sure. I almost feel as if my emphasis has shifted to my facial palsy and my involvement with FPUK suggests that I am ready to move on to a more forward looking position. Does that make sense? I *think* it does. I shall go tomorrow and review the situation afterwards.
Starting to gear up for Christmas now - Adam comes home from university next week and I am so looking forward to having my little family complete again. Then Christmas can begin!
Thursday, 1 November 2012
The one with the check-up, the work and the mud...
Last blog, I spoke of the anxiety I still feel in the week or ten days before my three-monthly oncology check-up at the Marsden. It's the scary thought that, if something has gone wrong in the first week after my check-up, it's had thirteen weeks to get worse, rather than the four weeks when I was on a monthly check-up cycle. I have to remind myself that the doctors, the oncologist, the experts, who make the treatment of this illness their life's focus, do know best and that they wouldn't put me on a three-month cycle if they weren't sure it was the right thing to do. Despite reminding myself of this fact and that I am not a doctor (although, perhaps understandably, I feel a bit of an expert on my condition compared to pretty much everyone I know!), the nerves kick in and I find myself bracing myself for how I will deal with bad news. I hope that, eventually and hopefully soon, I will start to feel less anxious.
And so to the morning of the check-up. Car on auto-pilot, I drove to the hospital, parked up and went in, prepared for my usual nervous wait. Somewhat to my surprise, I was called through early, weighed, and no sooner had I sat down in the consulting room and started reading my book than the consultant came in. Yes, dear reader, I was seen early! It was the top consultant as well, which always makes me feel a bit more reassured - not that I doubt the competence and knowledge of the less senior specialists, but I do seem to derive an extra layer of comfort from the opinion of the woman at the top. She did a thorough physical examination, asked me lots of questions for the multi-paged questionnaire she has to fill in to compile various stats and talked about how I am generally. She seems very pleased with my oncology progress - still in remission, so that makes it 8 months since the PET CT scan and a year since they initially said they were confident I was in remission, although I couldn't quite believe it until the PET scan showed no sign of anything untoward. Funny how I needed the mechanics and scientific objectivity of a piece of machinery before I could quite accept it, isn't it?
After making an appointment for three months' time, I popped my parking ticket into the machine, purse at the ready to feed its hungry metal mouth, only to find that I had been seen so quickly that I was still within the thirty minutes parking grace period! First time I think that has ever happened.
On my way back to Oxted, I called in on some very old friends (as in, I have known them for a long time, not that they are great in years) for tea and a chat (and a chocolate croissant, as it turns out). Their daughter has ME - and I know that one regular reader of this blog, Geves, has a daughter of a similar age who also has this (literally) crippling and debilitating illness - and she, her mum and I spent some time talking about the impact of illness and how to deal with it physically and psychologically. For someone with ME, I think the difficulties are compounded because there is such mixed perceptions of ME. It's clearly a genuine, and often extremely serious, illness but some people still don't believe it really exists, which means firstly that the ill person almost has to defend their tiredness, their nausea, their lack of interest and concentration and secondly that there is less inclination to fund research and give it the attention it deserves. No one queries the existence of cancer, so I didn't have to devote any energy or time to considering whether anyone thought my illness was real or just some psychosomatic, almost "trendy", affectation. How awful to be ill, to be unaware of whether you will get better and to feel that people don't really believe you. I know it's genuine, real and hard to deal with, for the patient and the family.
What else has happened? Well, I have returned to the world of work - I have a 30 day project at a prestigious London Borough, working two or three days a week. This suits me perfectly - I can carry on with my volunteering at Orpheus and still have a day a week at home to keep up with domestic stuff, paperwork, charity stuff for Facial Palsy UK and - dare I say it? - just take it easy. Interestingly, I 'm finding that I have no problem concentrating at work all day and am loving the decision-making, the challenges of work, the social side of the office and using my brain again but find the commuting absolutely exhausting - yet I have a really easy commute! I travel by train to London and then walk for about 15 minutes, so no need to travel on the tube. Yet I find myself drained by the journey - not helped by the fact that, at this time of year, people are beginning the first of their winter colds, so there is lots of coughing and sneezing going on. I also get more than just mildly irritated by the incessant ringing of mobile phones, usually with *zany* ringtones and the incredibly pedestrian nature of their conversations. "I'm on the train" - really? "What are we having for dinner?" -what, you need to know this now? Why can't you just wait till you're home and have a surprise?? Does anyone else find themselves simmering with anger at the constant noise, all exacerbated by the increasingly lengthy announcements by the train guard as we enter and leave every station - or station stop, I should say. "Please take all your belongings with you", "Please mind the gap between the train and the platform", "Please remember to breathe".....aaarrrgggh!! I really should go on that Grumpy Old Women show!
On October 14th, it was our local 10k trail race and I managed to plod around in a reasonably respectable time, splashing through the muddy puddles and having a great time. It's a lovely race, totally off-road and it was a glorious autumn morning, sunny and bright. Best thing - cakes afterwards :-). I have my favourite race in just over a fortnight - the Sodbury Slog. It's always held on Rememberance Sunday and is a fantastic mix of poignant and respectful observation of the two minute silence and a complete and utter mudfest, followed by lunch with fellow mad mudlovers. I missed it last year, obviously, so am very much looking forward to splashing through ditches, hauling myself out of muddy water with the aid of a rope and generally trying not to lose my shoes in the gloopy, sticky mud. Do I hear you mutter that I must be mad? Yep, you're probably right!
I'm going to end this blog entry here, as otherwise I will just continue to ramble. I really need to discipline myself to update this more regularly. Be afraid.....be very afraid....
And so to the morning of the check-up. Car on auto-pilot, I drove to the hospital, parked up and went in, prepared for my usual nervous wait. Somewhat to my surprise, I was called through early, weighed, and no sooner had I sat down in the consulting room and started reading my book than the consultant came in. Yes, dear reader, I was seen early! It was the top consultant as well, which always makes me feel a bit more reassured - not that I doubt the competence and knowledge of the less senior specialists, but I do seem to derive an extra layer of comfort from the opinion of the woman at the top. She did a thorough physical examination, asked me lots of questions for the multi-paged questionnaire she has to fill in to compile various stats and talked about how I am generally. She seems very pleased with my oncology progress - still in remission, so that makes it 8 months since the PET CT scan and a year since they initially said they were confident I was in remission, although I couldn't quite believe it until the PET scan showed no sign of anything untoward. Funny how I needed the mechanics and scientific objectivity of a piece of machinery before I could quite accept it, isn't it?
After making an appointment for three months' time, I popped my parking ticket into the machine, purse at the ready to feed its hungry metal mouth, only to find that I had been seen so quickly that I was still within the thirty minutes parking grace period! First time I think that has ever happened.
On my way back to Oxted, I called in on some very old friends (as in, I have known them for a long time, not that they are great in years) for tea and a chat (and a chocolate croissant, as it turns out). Their daughter has ME - and I know that one regular reader of this blog, Geves, has a daughter of a similar age who also has this (literally) crippling and debilitating illness - and she, her mum and I spent some time talking about the impact of illness and how to deal with it physically and psychologically. For someone with ME, I think the difficulties are compounded because there is such mixed perceptions of ME. It's clearly a genuine, and often extremely serious, illness but some people still don't believe it really exists, which means firstly that the ill person almost has to defend their tiredness, their nausea, their lack of interest and concentration and secondly that there is less inclination to fund research and give it the attention it deserves. No one queries the existence of cancer, so I didn't have to devote any energy or time to considering whether anyone thought my illness was real or just some psychosomatic, almost "trendy", affectation. How awful to be ill, to be unaware of whether you will get better and to feel that people don't really believe you. I know it's genuine, real and hard to deal with, for the patient and the family.
What else has happened? Well, I have returned to the world of work - I have a 30 day project at a prestigious London Borough, working two or three days a week. This suits me perfectly - I can carry on with my volunteering at Orpheus and still have a day a week at home to keep up with domestic stuff, paperwork, charity stuff for Facial Palsy UK and - dare I say it? - just take it easy. Interestingly, I 'm finding that I have no problem concentrating at work all day and am loving the decision-making, the challenges of work, the social side of the office and using my brain again but find the commuting absolutely exhausting - yet I have a really easy commute! I travel by train to London and then walk for about 15 minutes, so no need to travel on the tube. Yet I find myself drained by the journey - not helped by the fact that, at this time of year, people are beginning the first of their winter colds, so there is lots of coughing and sneezing going on. I also get more than just mildly irritated by the incessant ringing of mobile phones, usually with *zany* ringtones and the incredibly pedestrian nature of their conversations. "I'm on the train" - really? "What are we having for dinner?" -what, you need to know this now? Why can't you just wait till you're home and have a surprise?? Does anyone else find themselves simmering with anger at the constant noise, all exacerbated by the increasingly lengthy announcements by the train guard as we enter and leave every station - or station stop, I should say. "Please take all your belongings with you", "Please mind the gap between the train and the platform", "Please remember to breathe".....aaarrrgggh!! I really should go on that Grumpy Old Women show!
On October 14th, it was our local 10k trail race and I managed to plod around in a reasonably respectable time, splashing through the muddy puddles and having a great time. It's a lovely race, totally off-road and it was a glorious autumn morning, sunny and bright. Best thing - cakes afterwards :-). I have my favourite race in just over a fortnight - the Sodbury Slog. It's always held on Rememberance Sunday and is a fantastic mix of poignant and respectful observation of the two minute silence and a complete and utter mudfest, followed by lunch with fellow mad mudlovers. I missed it last year, obviously, so am very much looking forward to splashing through ditches, hauling myself out of muddy water with the aid of a rope and generally trying not to lose my shoes in the gloopy, sticky mud. Do I hear you mutter that I must be mad? Yep, you're probably right!
I'm going to end this blog entry here, as otherwise I will just continue to ramble. I really need to discipline myself to update this more regularly. Be afraid.....be very afraid....
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Breaking news - I am getting better at this running malarkey :-) Those of you who know me through Runners' World, and others who know me well, will know that returning to running has been a really important part of my recovery, marking quite a milestone. Apart from the psychological benefits of exercise, it's the return to normal that it represents which is so meaningful. I've been doing a little running on the treadmill at the gym this week; managed 20 minutes on Wednesday morning and 30 minutes on Friday morning. Today, it was such a beautiful wintry morning, sunny and cold, that after church I decided to go for an outside plod - my first proper attempt at running, my first time out on my own (apart from running around the block a few weeks ago) any my first run outside.
There's a process to follow when going for a run - for me, anyway. I'm sure most runners just throw on their running gear, lace up their trainers and head off but oh no, not me. First there is the dilemma of what to wear - layering is key when it's cold, but I don't want to get too hot so I need to think about whether to wear a sleeveless top under a long-sleeved one, or a short-sleeved top under a long-sleeved one, or a short-sleeved one over a long-sleeved one, or a ....well, you get the picture! Then it's whether to wear calf-length leggings or full tracksuit bottoms. Then it's the trainers - should I wear my lovely new ones and spoil their pristine whiteness with some muddy badges of honour, or should I wear some older trainers which have been through mud, horse poo and puddles? (I told you it's a dilemma). In the end, I went for the sleeveless top, long-sleeved top, leggings and older trainers ensemble. The mandatory hi-viz gilet (anywhere else, this would be called a sleeveless jacket, but we're in Oxted, darling) on top, thumbs tucked through the thumbholes of my sleeves, hair screwed back into a tiny pony-tail and phone placed in pocket and off I went.
Well, what a beautiful day to be out running! Clean, clear air, bright sunshine, muddy fields and wildlife - just perfect. I did one of my old running routes; it's about four and a half miles and I ran all of it except for one tiny bit where I walked. I ran all the uphills, though, which I was very pleased with. I had to manoeuvre round a recalcitrant horse, which was firmly placed right by the stile between two fields. No way was it going to move - there was a couple out for a walk, just in front of me, who were trying to persuade this horse to move, but he was having none of it. Another couple on the other side of the stile were also trying to persuade it, but to no avail. I got fed up (impatient? me? Nooooo) with the slightly ineffectual hand-waving and "Here, boy"s that were going on, so eventually I just said I thought I could squeeze between the horse's head and the stile and hopped over. I wasn't going to let a horse stop me doing this blessed run, no way!
Now I know I can run outside, I can do more of it - I know I won't be able to do any long training runs for the VLM, but if I can get up to about 8 or 9 miles over the next 7 weeks (eek!), then at least I will feel I have the ability to run parts of the course, even if I walk most of it. And do you know what? there's no shame in that at all, despite what some running purists say. For me, the important thing is just getting to the end and proving that I have put the past horrendous 12 months to one side.
The rest of the week, since I last blogged, has been busy and good. I met with another friend on Wednesday for a catch-up and to talk about work and she gave me some very helpful advice about developing our new charity. Straight home from meeting her (in London) and met up with my friend Di in Oxted. She had an operation on her feet a few months ago and between her being immobile and me not being 100%, we hadn't had a chance to talk face-to-face for a while, so we had a grand old chat over tea/hot chocolate/latte in Caffe Nero.
On Thursday evening, I ventured back to the Elders' meeting at my church. The Elders basically work with the Minister to run the church, and are elected by church members. I hadn't been along to the monthly meetings since I got ill, so this is another step towards normality. I timed my return well, because it was our church secretary's birthday and there was cake! It did feel good to be back and getting involved, especially as we have had so much support from people there.
We had a guest for the weekend - my friend Dave, who lives in Derbyshire. It was just too difficult for me to entertain the idea of entertaining (!) overnight guests all through last summer so, because it's a long way to come just for a couple of hours, we arranged for him to visit now, when I am so much better. He came down on Friday and left on Saturday afternoon, so we had ample opportunity for a good catch-up, putting the world to rights, reflecting on being middle-aged gimmers, etc.! He even had the opportunity to come with Neil and me to a meeting of the Head and Neck Cancer Support Group at Medway Hospital (it moves around between Medway, Maidstone and East Grinstead Hospitals). You might remember that Neil and I went to our first meeting of this group in December and we won the quiz. Guess what? Yes, we won it again!I do like quizzes and my competitive streak comes out big-time. We won a bottle of red wine and then won a bottle of white in the raffle, so those two bottles have joined the serried ranks of bottles in the dining-room, none of which I can yet drink, since all wine still smells like vinegar to me!
I think that's me up-to-date now. It's been a good week, catching up with friends, and I deeply appreciate them making the effort to see me, especially when it involves travelling some distance. Neil, Amy and Adam are all fine - spoke to Adam on the phone this afternoon, Amy has been working hard over the weekend looking after one of her favourite charges so his parents could go away overnight and is now in bed, shattered, and Neil has spent today working at ExCel, where his company was exhibiting. It's good to have him back home, relaxing on the sofa and perusing the Sunday papers. As for me, once I finish this blog, I shall settle back on the sofa, cup of tea in hand, and luxuriate in the Sunday night televisual delight that is Call the Midwife - perfect easy, but well-made, viewing.
Toodle pip, y'all
There's a process to follow when going for a run - for me, anyway. I'm sure most runners just throw on their running gear, lace up their trainers and head off but oh no, not me. First there is the dilemma of what to wear - layering is key when it's cold, but I don't want to get too hot so I need to think about whether to wear a sleeveless top under a long-sleeved one, or a short-sleeved top under a long-sleeved one, or a short-sleeved one over a long-sleeved one, or a ....well, you get the picture! Then it's whether to wear calf-length leggings or full tracksuit bottoms. Then it's the trainers - should I wear my lovely new ones and spoil their pristine whiteness with some muddy badges of honour, or should I wear some older trainers which have been through mud, horse poo and puddles? (I told you it's a dilemma). In the end, I went for the sleeveless top, long-sleeved top, leggings and older trainers ensemble. The mandatory hi-viz gilet (anywhere else, this would be called a sleeveless jacket, but we're in Oxted, darling) on top, thumbs tucked through the thumbholes of my sleeves, hair screwed back into a tiny pony-tail and phone placed in pocket and off I went.
Well, what a beautiful day to be out running! Clean, clear air, bright sunshine, muddy fields and wildlife - just perfect. I did one of my old running routes; it's about four and a half miles and I ran all of it except for one tiny bit where I walked. I ran all the uphills, though, which I was very pleased with. I had to manoeuvre round a recalcitrant horse, which was firmly placed right by the stile between two fields. No way was it going to move - there was a couple out for a walk, just in front of me, who were trying to persuade this horse to move, but he was having none of it. Another couple on the other side of the stile were also trying to persuade it, but to no avail. I got fed up (impatient? me? Nooooo) with the slightly ineffectual hand-waving and "Here, boy"s that were going on, so eventually I just said I thought I could squeeze between the horse's head and the stile and hopped over. I wasn't going to let a horse stop me doing this blessed run, no way!
Now I know I can run outside, I can do more of it - I know I won't be able to do any long training runs for the VLM, but if I can get up to about 8 or 9 miles over the next 7 weeks (eek!), then at least I will feel I have the ability to run parts of the course, even if I walk most of it. And do you know what? there's no shame in that at all, despite what some running purists say. For me, the important thing is just getting to the end and proving that I have put the past horrendous 12 months to one side.
The rest of the week, since I last blogged, has been busy and good. I met with another friend on Wednesday for a catch-up and to talk about work and she gave me some very helpful advice about developing our new charity. Straight home from meeting her (in London) and met up with my friend Di in Oxted. She had an operation on her feet a few months ago and between her being immobile and me not being 100%, we hadn't had a chance to talk face-to-face for a while, so we had a grand old chat over tea/hot chocolate/latte in Caffe Nero.
On Thursday evening, I ventured back to the Elders' meeting at my church. The Elders basically work with the Minister to run the church, and are elected by church members. I hadn't been along to the monthly meetings since I got ill, so this is another step towards normality. I timed my return well, because it was our church secretary's birthday and there was cake! It did feel good to be back and getting involved, especially as we have had so much support from people there.
We had a guest for the weekend - my friend Dave, who lives in Derbyshire. It was just too difficult for me to entertain the idea of entertaining (!) overnight guests all through last summer so, because it's a long way to come just for a couple of hours, we arranged for him to visit now, when I am so much better. He came down on Friday and left on Saturday afternoon, so we had ample opportunity for a good catch-up, putting the world to rights, reflecting on being middle-aged gimmers, etc.! He even had the opportunity to come with Neil and me to a meeting of the Head and Neck Cancer Support Group at Medway Hospital (it moves around between Medway, Maidstone and East Grinstead Hospitals). You might remember that Neil and I went to our first meeting of this group in December and we won the quiz. Guess what? Yes, we won it again!I do like quizzes and my competitive streak comes out big-time. We won a bottle of red wine and then won a bottle of white in the raffle, so those two bottles have joined the serried ranks of bottles in the dining-room, none of which I can yet drink, since all wine still smells like vinegar to me!
I think that's me up-to-date now. It's been a good week, catching up with friends, and I deeply appreciate them making the effort to see me, especially when it involves travelling some distance. Neil, Amy and Adam are all fine - spoke to Adam on the phone this afternoon, Amy has been working hard over the weekend looking after one of her favourite charges so his parents could go away overnight and is now in bed, shattered, and Neil has spent today working at ExCel, where his company was exhibiting. It's good to have him back home, relaxing on the sofa and perusing the Sunday papers. As for me, once I finish this blog, I shall settle back on the sofa, cup of tea in hand, and luxuriate in the Sunday night televisual delight that is Call the Midwife - perfect easy, but well-made, viewing.
Toodle pip, y'all
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