Leaving on a Jet Plane, part...

Guess where I am?  Well, the last time I wrote in my journal was the last time I was headed to my friends down South, and that was fifteen months ago.

Right this second, I'm in Costa, with a glass of holiday Chardonnay and a tiny packet of contraband cashews which I purchased at the supermarket this morning, (didn't fancy crisps.)   A lot has happened to us all in fifteen months.  My 'a lot' has happened most recently, the past month especially has been fraught with tears, exhaustion, worry and sleeplessness.  I almost reached my limit, my limit being, I wasn't sure I could continue to function normally, get up at 4.30am, go to work, do a decent job, get home fifteen hours later to grab a bite to eat then try to get some sleep.

With a recent and frightening reminder that life should not be taken for granted, that those we love should not be taken for granted, I am once again, looking at my life from above, and reviewing.

A couple of nights ago, the ridiculousness of my relationship finally dawned on me, I finally got it.  I am totally done with analysing and trying to fathom out, what it is.  I actually felt strong, independent and content with my lot.  It's not that I'm saying goodbye to all that, I just feel like my grip is a little looser on the situation.  Just as I was getting to feel comfortable with the new perspective, he sent me a gorgeous, black and white head shot.  Damn, he's handsome.

Given that nothing lasts forever, although I do believe in life after death and in reincarnation... what if I'm wrong?  What if this is it?  What if he is the funny, flawed, gentle, handsome, love of my life?

Then, there is my childhood friend, who I see maybe twice a year, who I don't think of in 'that way', but he makes my sides split with laughter, I can say anything to him, he thinks I'm weird/funny, I am totally comfortable with him.  I wish that I saw more of him, he brightens my day.

You forget that you need to be pretty fit to travel.  The time at the airport speeds along.  Not sure how far I've walked, carpet or no carpet, seems like quite a way.  My flight is called and we process through the gate and down a gangway, down a staircase and onto tarmac, where we board a bus.  I step up and shuffle to a pole, grab hold of pole, instantly regretting not re-applying the hand sanitiser right before.  I wedge my case, firmly between my legs, assume second position and clench my buttocks to act as shock absorbers.

Ten minutes later and after a slight delay waiting to see if two stragglers are in fact joining the flight, we take off into the hazy sunshine.  I can't wait to see everyone.

Seriously?

It's another School reunion, and a bomb is dropped in my ear...  'Have you really never been in a significant relationship?'  For a start, I'm amazed she can string this sentence together and it catches me off guard.  My drunken, friend between the ages of four and probably twelve, has an arm draped tightly around my neck, hanging on like her life depends on it and the stench of cigarette breath almost renders me unconscious.  What do I say?  'Define; significant?'  Breathe in the other direction to avoid the acrid fumes while I think?

The relationship I've been in for the past few years is pretty significant to me, but it's un-definable.  No, I don't have a ring on my finger but nor do I have an unattractive man shackled to me or smell like an ash tray.

I know that it's the alcohol asking the question but I'm peeved to say the least, that this train wreck is basically pointing out that there must be something flawed within me.

I don't know if she has children or not but given the opportunity to change places with her, would I?

No thank you, I'd back me any day of the week.

100%

The determined shadow and subsequent biopsy eventually told us that it is in fact, lung cancer, operable non the less. My main worry is the diagnosis of the kidney and the surrounding area, this is still inconclusive, plus there is the chance that the lung cancer has already spread.

These days are a blur.  Been impossible to concentrate in work.  Waiting for the diagnosis, waiting for the surgery date, helping to organise, helping to pack.  Day of lobectomy, biopsy executed on remaining lobe to check that it hasn't spread.  Kidney diagnosis outstanding, hopefully unrelated to lung.  Made it through op despite the heart murmur and the sticky blood.

I'm holding it together, work is all but tipping me over the edge, doesn't that say something?  Cancer, I can just about deal with, work, not so much. 

This week has been a round of leaving for work at 6.30am, leaving work at 4ish, hospital by 5ish, leave hospital 6.30ish, home after 7.15ish.  Too tired to have a meal, then going to bed about 9.30pm, only to not sleep.

By Thursday night, I was so tired, I wasn't overly confident that I would be able to drive home without having an accident, I deliberately chose the quieter routes home from the hospital. 

Friday and the patient is allowed home, thank God, another week and I would have been in the next bed. 

Couple of weeks yet until the biopsy results are back, everything is in God's hands.  I am going to say it now, 100%, everything is going to be OK.

Mother of the Baby

I have just watched "Father of the Bride 2", and it got me thinking.  My eldest sister was expecting my niece and friend Lea, at the same time that my Mum was expecting me.  Most peculiar I know, but it is an amazing dynamic and has always been lovely.  Lea is just 10 weeks younger than me.  I wish now, that I'd asked my Mum, what that felt like.

I can't imagine being a Mum to a 22 year old, expecting my first Grandchild and to be also expecting my own and last baby girl.... moi.

How on earth could you comprehend and process that equation?

My family is not without fault, but whose is?  I would not swap my set up, for anyone else's.  I love that I have four, older sisters, I know what 's coming because my Mum was the youngest of five girls and the last surviving of the five.  Not that I expect to outlive mine, with my blood pressure, but there is a chance.

I told my cousin what I'd been thinking, about Mum and how she had coped.  I wondered what it was like when I arrived.  'You're Mum strolled in with you, wearing a fur stole and 3" heels!' Don't judge the fur thing, it was totally OK in those days.  My Mum sounded awesome.

I wonder how much of this was bravado and how much was just the fact that she was born amazing.

My Mum was faced with major disapproval regarding my arrival.  I know for a fact that one of my sister's and my three remaining aunts, were all horrified that I was on my way, my Mum's favourite sister died six months before I was born, (my Cousin's Mum,) I would love to have known what would have made of me, but I'll never know.

That Was the Week...

Truth be told... terrible week.  I currently hate work, really struggling, confidence is low and on top of all of that, biopsy was this week.  I was on edge all day, checking my silent phone for updates every other minute, it was 16.30 when I got my first update; through procedure and on way home.  Just have to wait for results now.

I made it through to the end of Thursday and I'm off today, Friday, thank God. 

Now I'm just going to spill out all of my thoughts for the week Col.

It's Friday, had quite a productive day, so far, washed, ironed, mowed front lawn, re-potted amaryllis in new silvery pot, jogged for 15, shredded one bin bags worth of paper, recycled mags, did a little sorting.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked Bee if she would be able to knit me extra long leg warmers, (I get cold in bed but hate wearing socks... to bed.)  Then I asked if she could knit me knee warmers.  I know what you're thinking but my knees hurt and the wool makes them feel cosy and at least it doesn't feel like bone on bone.  A week later, she drops off knee warmers, which for the last two nights, I have been wearing.... on my arms.  Seriously, this could be a thing, it's genius, you don't overheat but you're cosy and warm when it's actually still quite chilly, it's lovely.

I unintentionally, (I know, annoying,) lost 2lbs this week.  Not sure what's happening.  Could I be finally growing into my own body?  I read everything there is to read about diet and nutrition, but I just seem to be finding my own way.  This week, I haven't done anything out of the ordinary, I'm eating, never hungry, maybe doing a bit extra every night but nothing major, literally 21 x speed skaters with 3kg dumbbells, hardly a life changer.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm happy with my body.  I am HAPPY WITH MY BODY.  Don't get me wrong, I still have cellulite and everything could be tauter, tighter, plumper, but I'm in good shape, and if anyone else doesn't like it, that's their tough luck.

Did I tell you that I grated my knuckle?  I bought a fancy, (cheap but sharp) grater, the modern, flat kind not the old fashioned like a box kind.  Anyway, I accidentally, while frantically grating my fresh ginger root into my stir fry, took a chunk out of my knuckle.  It was deep and bled and bled, literally through the night.  It has been ridiculously tender.  Jan gave me no love, Bee offers that maybe I nicked the bone.  Is that possible?  It's been so painful that maybe I did, but it's finally starting to calm down after about six weeks, finally, the pain isn't like an electric shock when I touch it anymore.

For the past four weeks, I've been in dire need of a Carrie day, so today, I am indulging in SATC, The Movie.  Note to self, if ever I am a bridesmaid, I need to be in "Miranda Blue".

I'm still reeling over Grey's but hey, I managed to go on without Cristina... just.

My go-to TV every night for at least one episode is either "Say Yes to the Dress" or "Say Yes to the Dress Atlanta". It washes over you like calming ocean waters.  If I ever was to be a bride, which I'm not, then my guides of choice would be either Sarah or Christiana (and of course Randy,) or Flo or Robyn in Atlanta, (with Lori and the divine Monty.)  It's fantasy and comforting and just lovely.

Brother in law had throat op on Friday, unexpectedly kept in overnight but released on Saturday, on liquid diet for 10 days. He'll be signed off for the duration, this will be quite a challenge for him, he notoriously does not do 'sick days' so we shall see how he copes.

On the plus side, Dear Nephew is expecting to be a Daddy and he brought around the scan pics this week.  I could see it, I could actually see a baby.  I didn't have to oooh and arrahhh at a blob and pretend to be amazed.  This is a tiny weeny human.  I could see hands and feet and a great big head. I could see seven out of eight pics, the eighth did look like a baby goat, which I told him but seven out of eight ain't bad right?

I remember, as clear as if it was yesterday, the day my nephew was born, I ran all the way to my school friend's to tell her that he had arrived.  I remember the very first time I saw him.  His Christening, taking him to the cinema, watching him play football.  And now he's going to be a Daddy.  His parents did such a great job and he will be amazing.

Saturday night was Date Night and every time I think of calling it a day, I have a great time and I realise how happy he makes me. 

Sunday, I catch up with all of the patients, throat op, back op, biopsy, and after having completed all of my housework jobs, I decide to have a lazy, TV catch up day, The Mentalist and Mad Men are calling.

If you are a Grey's fan, do not read on

I love Grey's, I worship at the house of Shonda.  I have invested the last ten years of my life in Grey's, and they have been a significant ten, personally, professionally, Grey's has been there, especially when I needed a good cry.

I have been inspired by the creativity, the bravery, the writing, the acting and the story lines.  It gave me hope, when there wasn't any and I secretly wished, that one day, I may be a, 'married on a post-it' bride.  So romantic, so ideal.

Grey's is clever, witty, excruciatingly real, and it has always told the story of love, whether enduring or fleeting.  Lexie and Mark, Cristina and Owen, Cristina and Meredith, Callie and Arizona, but above all, Meredith and Derek.  Screwed up, headed for Alzheimer's, arrogant, brilliant, strong, flawed and loving... it's Meredith's story.

I read that PD had wanted to leave for a while, and if you want to leave, really leave, then as an actor, surely you would want to go out with a bang?  So I'm glad he did and that nod, to that famous Grey's 'signature scene' was, heartbreaking.

Meredith and Derek had the rocky relationship I always hoped for, faltering, bump ridden, but true and brutally honest.

Christina was my almost favourite character, and I miss her dead pan... everything.

George, Lexie, Mark, left huge, gaping holes, and I know that Grey's went on, but still, this is Meredith and Derek... without Derek.   At the moment, I don't see how it can be as good, but I have faith, faith in Shonda and in Ellen, who will be acting her ass off, if she wasn't already.

End of an era but nothing lasts forever.  I'm in it for the long haul, but thank God for Box Sets.

You're Not Straight

You're not straight.  I'm not?  I could see it as soon as you laid down, your left side is almost normal, for you, the right side is really tight.

My physio is kneading my mid back with what seems like an enormous amount of effort and I can feel myself sinking into the bed.  It's like I'm being pushed into concrete.

I'd already explained that I had been doing extra long days, working through lunch and not sleeping great.  Seems like my back is finally saying, "enough."  I've also been warned off from crossing my legs at my desk, something I know.  I remember my Mum telling me so, so many years ago, that crossing my legs would give me varicose veins.  Well I don't have the vein's yet, but according to Vicki, according to my back... crossing my legs still carries consequences.

I tell Vicki that after finding Ashley Borden on Youtube, I'd checked her out, (amazing body, strong but womanly,) and listened to her advice; "dumbbells... that challenge," and after finding some 3kgs  on sale, I'd gone for it.  They are challenging and I can only do a few reps but I feel like Super Woman and my arms already look better.  I'm thinking of that song, arms connected to the, back bone etc.  Got to help right?

I've resisted weights for years but I'm starting to embrace them, it's all in the head, but I love how they make me feel, I feel strong. Even x1 set of 5 reps, I feel invincible.  You have to take it, wherever you can get it.