The milk that went in the teapot...

Some years ago I went on a birdwatching holiday cocooned in welsh countryside. From the first introductions we filled the minibus with laughter. But we over-heard bickering between the couple looking after us. Then one day at breakfast as we recapped on birds seen, I poured the milk into the teapot thinking it was extra water. I told the lady with long brown hair and we never saw her again... 

This breast cancer is like the milk that went in the teapot...the final straw...I feel like I have been tipped over a cliff, into the stormy sea and am fighting the powerful waves to get to the shore. But I have recently learnt to swim and I must reach solid ground. I have Mr H to think about. I love life. I want to live. So I find my way through the treacle of days leading to surgery...

Days out with friends talking until their ear lobes throb, taking short strolls on the blue sky days and on the wet ones I devour a good book. As questions pop into my mind I drop them into the recommended websites. I cry a flood when my heart beat runs a marathon even though my feet are still, then cradle myself in the calm of camomile tea and Mindfulness. Mr H and I watch a box set of Frasier and titter together before bed. I go shopping and buy a new dress, camouflage blouses and of course a new smiley bag to take my things into hospital.

Mary Poppins be jealous...

At the end of the day  as Nelson Mandela said...…I learned that courage was not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid but he who conquers that fear...

... I am trying...