What next..

As I write, the chemotherapy drug is hopefully zapping the active cancer cells on my peritoneum.
What I feel is the battleground of side effects and the myriad of drugs I need to deal with them.

I had a fabulous memory making weekend with my family. My littlest granddaughter overcame her shyness to throw herself into my arms and hold my hand. She allowed Grandad to help her on the soft play equipment right to the top!  She and my grandson had a baby chat at my knee, neither using words but clearly exchanging meaning. 
I bought eggs for an Easter Egg Hunt complete with special bags to put eggs in. My own children enjoyed that too.
I made cookies with my oldest granddaughter, we used pre-prepared mix so it was easy (for both of us). They were delicious.
We went to the zoo, it was freezing cold, but such fun. Seeing my granddaughters face to face with marmosets was priceless. I swear the marmosets were looking at my girls as hard as they were looking at them.

So, everyone went home. Mr G and I tidied up the escaped finger puppets and I surveyed the rest of my life.

How might it be? What will actually kill me?
Truth is no-one can say. So there is no point in speculating, frightening me and those I love, when no-one can say.

When I went for chemo yesterday, I had to be very brave. It was very difficult allowing the nurse to insert the cannula into my hand. This time the chemo drug is not labelled life saving but life extending.

Today, I went for a walk. I got out my Teeny Tiny Textile Art materials. I noticed the toilet needs cleaning!
In short, my life is going on. It is my efforts alone that will dictate if it is a life worth living.
I'll make it a life worth living. I am worth it!

Not a bucket list...

This is a list of things I want to do when, and while, I am fit and able:

1.  Return to Jersey
2. Take Mr G to Cornwall
3. Have all my grandchildren remember me.
4. Make sure I leave a good mark on the world
5. Wiggle my toes in soft warm sand.
6. Have as many barbecues as possible.
7. Stroke a piglet.
8. Make many more teeny tiny textile pictures.
9. Read lots of books.
10. Get better at Mario Kart on the Wii.

Waiting...

I really have not had long to wait for my treatment.
Two weeks, is all.

The terrifying part is the speed with which my cancer is fastening its hold on me.

In just two weeks, I've had 10l of fluid drained from my abdomen. The cancer has already thickened my peritoneum to the extent that the latest draining was excruciating.
They had to restrain me to get the drain in.
I needed morphine to tolerate the drain.
I had so much gas and air for the removal of the drain, that I was as high as a kite, and yet I still screamed.

It is safe to say that I will not be allowing any invasive procedures on my body, other than chemo, for a good long while.  That being the case, I declined my doctor's request to have an endoscopy to find the cause of the blood I am regurgitating. I have doubled another drug which will deal with the symptoms.
My GP stated that he would be sensitive about hospital admissions. What a lovely man.

So, I sit here, looking 8 months pregnant, with an abdomen as tight as a drum. I'm taking strong painkillers and drugs to suppress cold sweats which drench me regardless of the temperature. I can eat tiny amounts at one time as there is no room in my stomach for more than a teacupful at a time. The fluid that is filling my abdomen is coming from the protein bit of my blood that builds my body so I am getting a little weaker. I seem to crave salty and savoury foods so I am indulging in them.
Looks like my Easter eggs are safe for a while yet.

Chemo starts on Thursday. Then I can start teaching those cancer cells what for.

I'm not writing this to get sympathy. I've had and got plenty...
I'm not writing to shock or revolt. This is how it is...
I'm writing this as part of my life...
This is my story.
One day, a long time from now, I truly hope - it will be my history.

Tell it like it is...

Am I devastated?
Am I bereft?
Am I furious?
Am I angry?

You bet.

Have I curled up into a ball and rocked and wept, pulling the blanket over my head?

Hell, no!

Why?
What difference would it make?

In the scheme of things that is the new path for my life, what difference would that make to how it all ends.

I have incurable cancer. It is however treatable, and I have more than one option open to me. I have time left, I just don't know how much.
This makes me better off than many others.

Over the last three days, I have received so much wonderful support from so many people.
The hospital staff eased my symptoms (eventually) and I was treated with the utmost kindness and dignity.
Friends, in real life and virtually have swept me up and cradled me with love and affection.

Just promise me this, when it really gets ugly, whenever that may be, continue to hold me and Mr G in the same way.

Read  The Invitation  by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

If you can do this, then the world will be a richer place, even when I am gone.

Beyond angry...

What am I beyond angry about?

CANCER

Having journeyed with ovarian cancer for most of 2011, I face another possibly more gruelling journey with my sinister companion again.

What were 'this feels odd' symptoms have manifested themselves as 'OMG' symptoms.

These are similar to, but much worse, symptoms to those I had just over two years ago.

My abdomen resembles a 37 week pregnancy. It is so swollen that it is pressing up into my diaphragm restricting my breathing and eating. It is pressing down on my bladder and bowel causing a huge haemorrhoid. I hurt, I cannot breathe, I cannot eat.

These symptoms have developed in about ten days.

Tomorrow I go to the hospital. I shall have blood tests, an ultrasound scan and the many litres of fluid will be slowly drained from my abdomen. This will help get me fit so I can travel to Barcelona for my special little holiday.

Yes, I shall still go to Barcelona, it is very important to do these things, especially when you have to live with cancer.

I shall blog my new journey.

Mr G, T, J, R, M, R, E, E and the one to come, you are the reason I choose the journey to try to save my life. I love you all forever.

Fixing Ali... a work in many parts.

Post moved to This and That - better place for it.
I've been off work for quite a few weeks now.  I've been seeing my GP and my therapist regularly. I've also seen Occupational Health. This all means that I've actually been working hard at getting well.
Recovery from mental ill health is most definitely NOT just a case of taking the pills and hoping for the best. Without a doubt the tablets have significantly reduced my anxiety and panic attacks. I can, once again manage things like getting a hair cut, or going to an unfamiliar place. If this surprises you, then I'm glad I've shared this. For me, being ill meant that I could not function at all. I had to leave family times early, take breaks from conversations with friends. The world became a frightening place.

When I first saw my GP, I was told to go away and do three things in addition to taking my medicine.

• I was not to think about work at all. I found this extremely difficult indeed. It was so difficult that I had to be signed off for a long chunk of time (months not weeks) in order to succeed.
• I was to take regular exercise. I was to leave the house every day at the very least. This took a lot of courage to start with, but I can now manage a 2.5 mile walk easily. My next goal is to change the route of my walk.

• I was to do something creative that I enjoyed. As I had already started making my Teeny Tiny Textile Art, I decided to continue with this and develop my skills. In this, I have been really successful and have opened an online shop here. To my total amazement and joy I have already sold six pieces in three weeks. 

How do I feel now?  I feel much better. I have some more work to do to rebuild my resilience. Through working with my therapist, I have realised that this mental ill health stemmed from years of blasting through five house moves, a career change, a divorce, a remarriage, life threatening cancer and bereavements on top of a stressful job and all that entails, without dealing properly with any of them.  I have also learnt that I can worry for England when I don't need to.  This new wrought Ali is still me, but I won't be taking responsibility that I don't need to take. I have been reassured that I am unlikely to become so ill again.

I have been building good relationships. I have taken opportunities to spend time with those I love. I have removed my self from harmful triggers and relationships. Shift has happened in the way I perceive things and in how I react to my triggers.  Mr G has been so completely and utterly wonderful that I truly know he is the other half of me, I could not have got so far without him.

Ali, then, is well on the road to recovery, and I say hurrah to that. Ali will, however, never be quite the same again, but I'm not sorry about that as she was very unhappy and now the sun shines once again.

Ill health...

Felled again. No, not cancer. It is what I believe is called psychiatric injury. I have been struggling for some time with panic attacks and anxiety. On Wednesday, I reached a crisis point. I could not go on being brave, coping, pretending all was well* (*delete as appropriate) How I came to this is irrelevant at present. I need to concentrate on getting well. Someone I greatly respect said 'Take your own advice' I am going to do so. So making pictures, reading, sewing for grandchildren and some cooking are all going to occupy me.