Feel the buzz

On November 17th 2008 I pulled on my Ronhill tracksters, slid my feet into my blue and white running shoes and jogged away from the house.  My last run...

When my brain tumour stole my running and walking legs Mr H refused to go back out running.

I can't he would say, it is not the same without you. 






But eventually I manage to push him out of the door with a smile. I know running is good for him and I happily stand cheering when Mr H achieves his goals of a 10K and half marathon






I walk my slow hobbly walk around the village and learn to swim...

But over the last year I feel as though I have reached a walking red light. While everyone around me is running... I watch running groups pass the window,  listen to friends and family talking about their couch to 5K training, chat on the phone with friends doing the Race for Life. For Me!

But my running legs are screaming to get moving, they want a challenge, I want to exercise with people.. I want to feel the buzz

I can't walk 5K let alone run I tell the Race for Life organisers as I ask them to consider doing something for people such as me with disabilities due to the cancer...

We will look into it they tell me. But then it all goes quiet...

My friend Chris suggests I try aquafit at our local Gym so I find a group  leader with a sensitive approach to the fact that I have to do my wobbly, slow version of most of her exercises. I find myself grinning and humming the words as I lift my leg to the music while hanging onto the side of the pool.

In my search for more alternatives I discover a circuit training class for people with Multiple Sclerosis and Parkinsons disease. I am welcomed into the arms of this laughter filled hard working group. Vicky the leader is as bubbly as the best champagne and ensures each exercise is tailored to each members ability.. 

We are going to work you hard she tells me with a grin. 

It feels like I am back in the neurology physiotherapy gym I say when she insists I try to lift my left leg rather than swing it to the side...I am back on the balancing board, stepping slowly up and down off a step, using a resistance band to work my arms and legs so hard they shake...

Its back to exercise basics and I am feeling the buzz....

Life is not always about trying to fix something that's broken

Sometimes it is about starting over and creating something better

thatonerule.com

Grubby in the garden

The garden calls for attention, its sullen stare makes us feel guilty as it has taken second place to the allotment. We dedicate our bank holiday weekend to it and are rewarded with blue sky, floating clouds and sunshine.

I want to sort out my small vegetable patch which has pride of place outside the back door next to the greenhouse. This year I have more space now the allotment is an established member of the family, I will grow mixed lettuce leaves which I can pick, serve and eat straight from the garden, my own back door vegetable shop. I will also plant some aromatic herbs.

I want to do so much but Mr fatigue still has me in his grip.  Mr H said I should add 'Grouchy' to the Blog Title, cheek. I want to try and lay a small path to make access to my veg plot easier but he replies: 

A) we haven't got any slabs

B) are you off your head

C) where on earth would you get the energy or balance from to lift and lay them...

D) I will do it once we have bought some...

Grrrrrrrr. I storm off....slowly...

Like a stubborn Carol Klein I try to move pots, dead head plants and clear the patch but ten minutes in I feel sick and my head is heavy, low work does not suit me. Mr H takes one look at me and says enough:

Why don't you re-creosote the shed instead? It's a sit, stand job and I will do the veg plot

Good plan..Smooth 70's on the radio I hum my way through songs as I turn me and the shed dark brown.

  

After the surgery Mr H would put a sun lounger out at the front of the cottage and it was a joy just to sit and watch him while he gardened. It was hard for me to stand from the chair let alone garden. Like a judge at the Chelsea flower show I would mark his efforts out of ten. I progressed to short standing up jobs; trimming the lawn edges was my favourite with long handled edging shears. Now I can do short sharp bursts of gardening. 'a bit at a time' is my motto; but I always want to do more.

My main job is to make drinks and provide snacks, I offer Mr H a banana when he sees me munching but he is not so easily fooled:

Open your mouth

No

He moves towards me and I back away, Open your mouth, let me see what you are eating!

Giggling I move away as I tell him Banana

He spots my treats in the kitchen, my sweets are banana flavoured so I am telling the truth...sort of.

Great fun and madness

We are having a quiet Saturday night in, I lie on the settee, legs mid air; look Mr H I can keep my legs in the air, are they straight; are they straight...look at me, arrrrrre my legs straight?

Mr H glances over, what are you doing? 

Trying to get my legs in the air and cycle like I did in the baby pool

For goodness sake there are wiser locked up...

I juggle with my legs and arms to try and sit up. A snigger erupts as I start to roll onto the floor. Mr H blocks my fall...I end up in a heap.

Laughter is like music in our house, giggles are as good as Belgian chocolates. 

We cherish fun because when fatigue digs its claws in I snap at a moments notice, one wrong word and my door slam is world class. I have learnt to blow out long and hard when anger bubbles and it has helped. 

But ladies; I know you will understand when I tell you it is always Mr H's fault, sometimes though I have a long wait for his apology!

...Mr H interrupts the programme I am watching, now sitting upright...

...By the way your legs were definitely not straight...

Grrrrrrrr

Growing A New Life

I have sunflower and sweet pea seeds on every windowsill in the kitchen. Each morning as soon as I get downstairs I peer into my pots and when I spot a green stem or leaf, a squeal slips through my lips. I chat away to my seedlings as I prepare my cereal and pop my pills, I have learnt from Prince Charles that my plants will respond to this quiet stimulation.  I turn the radio to Smooth 70's; they prefer that to noisy news and up to date stuff. I am sure they bop to the sounds of Stevie Wonder, Barry White and the Carpenters; I deny that the movement is caused by my footless swaying at the kitchen sink.

Growing is like dealing with change; it takes too much time and needs more patience than I can keep stuffed in my converse shoes!

When my life changed in November 2008, I assumed (we have been here before ..assume makes an Ass out of U and Me!!) that once the surgery was over and I had bounced back up onto my feet again, normal life would resume. 

I chose to ignore the words of the neuro registrar on day one...if your tumour is benign you will live but it will be a different life.

Recovery, like growing, is part lottery and part hard work. I watched other patients in hospital refusing to do exercises, whereas like a diligent student I did all I was given.  My bedside neighbours and the nurses watched bemused when, with my left hand, like a shelf stacker at the supermarket, I repeatedly moved everything off my table onto the bed and then moved them back again. My home-made occupational therapy worked as I regained the use in my left arm quite quickly.

But my attention to gardening is less thorough and brings groans of frustration from Mr H as I pull out flowers instead of weeds, only half fill seed pots with soil and don't water as often as I should.

My new life is growing, work is replaced by writing and hobbies; I put in my hours at the Gym and baby pool, at home I have a list of exercises too long to fit on one page.  But the changes are never enough...like my seedlings they need time and patience and perhaps some, despite trying, will never pop through the soil....

Balls Make Me Cry

Today as I sat on a bright orange ball my lips quivered and my gaze fell to the floor. My Pilates teacher stooped to clasp my arm, a frown of concern flickering across her face.

Dawn the last thing I wanted to do was make you cry

Sitting on the exercise ball pressed the play button on a tucked away film. The pause button now disabled, the clip plays on: 

Daily exercises are being performed with the community physiotherapist during a home visit. The scene is in early 2009 set by the side of my relocated bed in the downstairs back room.  The large exercise ball is in focus but no games are being played. 

Try lifting your arms up above your head The physiotherapy aid suggests

Game for anything I give it a go but like a Weeble my body tips to the left... in slow motion  I pass the point of no return and begin to slide off the ball...like jelly my leg muscles refuse to support me and I roll onto the floor. The piano breaks my fall. I lie gazing up at the dust which has collected underneath.