The Water of Life

When I found out I had cancer the oncologist said it first…

Drink plenty of water.

Then the nurses in the chemotherapy unit repeated the message as they dripped the red and yellow drugs into my vein…

Drink plenty of water.  So I drunk more

When the nutritionist reinforced the water mantra that comes with cancer, I swapped my small glasses to pints…

But then I discovered drinking plenty of water helps with fatigue. 

            Now I drink a reservoir every day.

But did you know that Water of Life is also used to describe distilled alcohol especially whiskey.  The ancient term Uisge beatha which is Gaelic for the Latin Aqua Vitae or “water of life” was altered in the 18^th Century to Usky and later to Whiskey.

Mr H and I don’t drink the other “water of life” It never passes our lips. I haven’t drunk a drop since 2008. I can’t say I am a tee total as I rarely drink tea. The occasional sparkling water with a slice of lemon fizzing at the bottom is our champagne.

I am back where I started. As a young adult the only alcohol I would lift to my lips was a snowball at Christmas. I liked the creamy, sweetness. But when I started working and going to pubs with friends and clubbing with the girls; I trained myself to like the taste of lager, and cider…it was the thing to do.

I recently read a page turning book The 12 Step Warrior, which kept me so riveted I finished it in 2 days. It is about a life almost ruined by alcohol and circumstance. But not only did Peter Skillen free himself from the grasp of alcohol; Peter is now a published author, accomplished film maker and Martial Arts expert.

I have seen the damage that alcohol can do. Seen it wrap it arms around People I know. Some find it easy to walk away from the warm alcohol induced hug. Others cannot. And as the grip of alcohol tightens, I watch it squeeze out life as the malignant dependency grows. 

I feel lucky that my health stopped alcohol fizzing up my nose or passing my lips and dulling my mind.

I prefer hugs from Mr H.

Be drink aware
"There is a sliding scale of drinking too much but it starts at a much lower volume than most would expect. Understand your drinking by clicking here" 

Who am I now?

One of the most common questions asked when I meet someone new is What do you do?

I used to reply I am a nurse

I knew who I was, I had been that person for over thirty years, I grew into that role. I would drop everything for someone in need. I was a carer. A leader. A finisher.

But now I am split in two, maybe three, possibly four...

Nowadays approaching the crossroads is Dawn the nurse who still wants to step in when someone is ill. She wants to lead projects. She wants to work in a charity, helping others...

On the opposite track is Dawn the explorer. She starts projects; crocheting flowers, knitting a cardigan, researching all sorts of ideas before leaving them unfinished in a corner. Onto something new...

Then there is Dawn who wants to forget that cancer or brain tumours exist, concentrate on living life; socialise as much as my energy allows, plan holiday after holiday, drink coffee and eat cake (home made of course!)

After my brain tumour I had settled on a route. But now after breast cancer I am a Blogger in transition. Questions whir like a tornado in my mind. Do I need a role any more? Does it matter that I am not finishing projects? Am I Shackleton but without the ice and snow?





One thing I am sure about is that this new curly haired Dawn will enjoy exploring who I am now!

Difficulties are just things to overcome, after all

Ernest Shackleton

Are you with the wheelchair?...

Mr H is my legs as we reach airport security on our way to a wedding...

...with a wave of her arm, a suited lady directs fellow travellers to a queue to be scanned. She glances down at me, stripped of my coat, scarf, bags, belt, all metal objects except the plate in my head, then steals my smile as she asks Mr H

Are you with the wheelchair?

Aha. I had forgotten once I sit in a wheelchair I am a wheelchair!

 ...my journey with airport special assistance has begun... 

The smiling ground crew collect me from the gate and with fellow wheelchair users they escort us to lifts, then across the Tarmac to the aircraft ambulift which awaits us...




Yippee we all shout as the fridge like lift whirs us into the air to rest level with the closed aircraft's side door. Our entry into the warmth. Our man knocks. We wait. Tap tap. We wait, shivering in our coats. Knock knock knock...

Then out of our window we spot the able passengers beginning to snake their way out to the aircraft. We all know that they will now be allowed into the warmth before us even though we were there first.

Fifteen more shivering minutes pass with us suspended mid air in our ice cold, wind chilled, fridge. We watch with opened mouths as the aircraft is hooked onto the tug. I bang on the window and shout

wait for us. 

No one looks up!

Our man hammers loudly on the closed aircraft door. We wait. Knocks louder... then to squeals of teeth chartering relief the door is opened.

Do we get an apology? Not on your life!

When we land we are told to stay seated so the able bodied passengers can get off first. They climb aboard a waiting warm cosy bus to be transported from the aircraft to the airport terminal. 

At last we are ambulifted onto the Tarmac only to become a three carriage train: Mr H is my driver, a mother pushes her young child as he clutches his Spider-Man toy and an elderly man struggles with his wife in her chair. It is a long dark walk as we are escorted along the normally unseen outside trails of Bristol airport on a wind chilled winter evening...

Shivering we pop out by the luggage carousels to collect our lonely suitcases. Everyone else has already left!





But when the Groom jumps in early with his eager I do and love glistens in his brides eyes, the journey I have travelled this year to witness such joy becomes a distant memory...

Now the storm has passed...

Barry white's words are singing in my ears...it may be winter outside but in my heart it's spring...because when I saw my oncologist he said your bones are cancer clear. One simple sentence which like a red traffic light,  brought our jumble of fear, questions about the future and sleepless nights to a stop. 

Once again I have a future, it will be filled with an extra scan each year, but I know how to do annual scans, my brain tumour.saw to that.

Mr H and I keep casting glances at each other and grinning like lottery winners. We are lottery winners! Bad news has left us alone for Christmas. Mr H keeps hugging me extra hard and when he comes back from a run, with sweaty tears he declares his utter joy and love for me. 

Its a GTBA week all round. We are off to a wedding. This wedding has dangled like a golden carrot as I have trudged my way through this year of cancer.  I won't need an excuse to wear a hat and eat cake!!

...and I have made it onto the short list for the UK Blog Awards 2015 - Individual Health Bloggers Category. 
Thank you all for your votes which got me to this point! 
I raise my glass to you...and to further raising awareness of the impact that brain tumours and breast cancer have but showing that even with these life can be enjoyed

Oh and before I go... GTBA is my term for Its Good To Be Alive

Dance, Smile, Giggle, Marvel, Trust, Hope, Love, Wish, Believe. Most of all enjoy every moment of the journey and appreciate where you are at this moment instead of always focusing on how far you have to go.

Mandy Hale

How Are You?

When I started writing my Blog and using Twitter a new world of support and information opened its arms to draw me in. I have made some fabulous 'Twitter Friends' and am fortunate to have met Chris Lewis who has a personal experience of living with cancer. 

Chris runs an International Cancer Community; 'Chris's Cancer Community' - to connect people around the world who are affected by cancer. Alongside this, Chris works tirelessly to campaign for better support and services for people with cancer. 

I am thrilled that Chris has agreed to write a guest post for my Blog, Chris has linked his post to the theme of my previous one Playing The Fine Game  and I gasped when I read it because the poem he includes could have been written for me!

I will leave you with Chris's inspirational writing...

How are you?

"How are you?" This is possibly the most common greeting that we use today. In fact we probably use it so frequently, that we have almost forgotten what it actually means. It is a question, not a statement and therefore prompts an answer, which may then start a conversation! In truth, that is not what we necessarily want to do. What we are actually doing is acknowledging that person.

"I'm fine" is generally the answer which comes back, and for most of us that is probably a relief, as we will not then get involved in a heavy conversation. We all have issues of course, in most instances, not really of interest to anyone else, and if they were, possibly far too complex to be discussing in a brief encounter.

However, when I am involved in a cancer environment, the question is asked slightly differently, with the expectation of a more complex response. In my five years of personal experience, I think that I have encountered most situations, good and bad, yet still, things arise that shock me.

I was at a social function, where I saw two people who I hadn't seen for some time. Both looked extremely well, and it was great to see them. So when I greeted them with "How are you?" I also expected the reply of "I'm fine". However the response in both instances was far from fine! I was shocked. In both cases their cancers had returned, more aggressively. They were both having treatment. I was not prepared for those answers, as they looked so well, but I considered it a compliment, that they felt they could share their story with me.

In both instances, we talked for some time, and they appeared grateful, to be able to talk to someone who understood. Would they have responded in this way if they weren't aware of my own situation? I don't think so. To most people they would be saying that they were fine.That is the most convenient response for both parties.

Most people who ask me how I am, ask for genuine reasons, and have a concern for my health. But I find that I have to tailor my response, individually.My issues are very complex, and I struggle at times to understand them, so how can I expect anyone else to? Some people have a better grasp on what is going on, and others just want to touch the surface. In truth, I still want to say everything is fine, and move on! It just seems easier.

A friend of mine, wrote the following, which I feel sums up brilliantly, "How are you?"

 "How are you?" everyone asks, "I'm fine"

"You are looking well" everyone says, "Yes, I'm fine"

"How's it all going?" some people say, "Oh, I'm fine"

"You must be strong" people say, "Oh I'm fine"

The simplest of phrases that won't let you know, all the pain and the fears that I don't want to show.

I can't tell you I cry when I sit on my own, and that my mind is in turmoil, I don't want you to know.

My body's in pain and it just won't subside, and I feel like I have left my life far behind

If I told you these things, how could you see, your world is so far from my reality.

It's falling to pieces inside of my head, so I tell you "I'm fine" as this puts it to bed.

You smile as I say it and you look so relaxed, so I'll say it each time when you venture to ask, "I'm fine"

  What response do you hope for when you ask "How are you?"

You can also follow Chris on line through his  Cancer Community 

Or on Facebook  and Twitter @christheeagle1  

Thank You Chris

Myriam comes to my hairy rescue...

They're growing I groan to Mr H 

What are?

Look! I say as I shove my shin in front of his face in bed...they've got a cheek ... and I've cancelled all my waxing appointments.

Chemo cycle by chemo cycle my head is making the transition from a fluffy peach to a pale nectarine. Some of my eye lashes have gone down the plug hole but while I now use an eyebrow pencil to complete my eyebrows, I still have to pluck hairs which sneakily sprout underneath...

As if that wasn't bad enough, my upper lip has started a summer campaign to raise money for Mens Health in Movember. If I don't act soon I will be eating moustache hairs for breakfast.

So I amble up the road to see Myriam. I am at risk of infection at the moment  I tell her as  I pull my own towel out of a bag and lay it on the couch. Myriam smiles understandingly as she puts her own away before she cleans her hands with alcohol gel and brings out new wax rollers

My goodness girl Myriam declares as she glides her roller over my legs, a cricket pitch! 

And with each pull I wave goodbye to my hairs...




for now 




When Mr H saunters in from work he grins as he runs his hands over my bronzed, baby smooth legs...