Dealing with Cancer's topsy turvy world...

Mr H often says I am in awe of you Dawn

why I persist

It's how you deal with the cancer and treatment, how you cope, how you still help others. 

On February 10th this year when the diagnosis of cancer was calmly delivered in a small clinic room as we stared at the Xray of my breast on the computer, I dropped my head into my hands... then I looked up into Mr H's pale face and said:

I can't do this I'll never cope.

The annoyingly slim, dark haired, Consultant said: 

but you will cope Dawn and I wanted to scream how do you bloody know ...

At home I sobbed. I shouted. Hit cushions. Stormed from one room to another as I wrung my hands...

had I hit the wall of 'not coping' or was this my way of coping with bad news?

As I endured the two weeks until my appointment with the surgeon to learn the fate of my beautiful breast, I shed enough tears to fill a reservoir. I made phone calls then put down the phone, too upset to talk. Every time someone said you are strong or stay positive I wanted to shout STOP BLOODY SAYING THAT! 

Cards dropped on the mat and I hid them away. I am not ill

Was this 'not coping' or was it my way of dealing with a traumatic event?

I no longer believe there is such a thing as 'not coping' 

In the last three weeks I have dealt with a range of symptoms...my way of coping...

With no energy to go beyond the front door and even though a strong breeze chased clouds across the sky I rested in the garden amongst flowers and the twitter of my newly fledged blue tits...









On a day at the seaside, unable to walk far I concentrated on a tiny crab lying motionless in the sand and curious fossils embedded in a stone, even though their hearts no longer beat they have left their beautiful marks...

...and when the sea side wind caused my head and ear to pulsate for two days I grumbled loudly at anyone happy to listen then visited my GP. But next time, like a geek, I will wear a woolly hat pulled low over my wig covered ears, however hot the sun!

Nowadays living dangerously means daring to eat a poached egg when the yolk is still dippy soldier runny and when I can go to the allotment my tasks are nearly all on my bum...

But my bone marrow has coped with the chemotherapy onslaught this time. My neutrophil count is already high enough for me to have Chemo 3. 

On time!

I am coping...

If you are faced with a mountain, you have several options,

You can climb it and cross to the other side.

You can go around it.

You can dig under it.

You can fly over it.

You can blow it up.

You can ignore it and pretend it's not there.

You can turn around and go back the way you came.

Or you can stay on the mountain and make it your home

Vera Nazarian. The perpetual calendar of inspiration

Important Friends...

The ozone smell wafts towards us as we lean on the railing above the murky sea. The wondrous yet familiar Seaside Pier reaches out into the water. Full of lunch we pull our coats around us as we wander along sharing tales. Reflecting. 

We stop to gaze at flowers anchored to a bench with blue ribbon,  inscriptions tell of two families linked by loss. a gift for others to rest and enjoy the view.

Fingers blue with cold we direct our feet towards the car.

People see two giggling ladies out for a seaside stroll.

Special; exceptional, out of the ordinary friends. 

Escape to the sea

The blue sky wakes me, the sun shine makes me smile, a day for a trip if only I could drive .... memories of days at sea float into my mind...The waves lift the boat free of the sea, my stomach jumps with joy as I grasp the life buoy holding me upright. The sea holds my heart in its hands. I squeal and point when the first whhhoosshh of spray goes up. A grey head and fin breaks the surface. Fellow Caribbean travellers run around the boat to get a closer look, I stay put. Any attempt to move on the rocking boat will leave me doing breast stroke on the floor. I tell Mr H and our new friends to chase it; the grey wonders will perform their show in front of me soon enough....

The sea has been my companion throughout my BT journey. During my frequent visits to the CT and MRI scanners I close my eyes and go back to the sea in Florida. As the warm salty water washes over my toes I feel for sharp edges; I bend and dig, lifting the multi coloured wonders served up by the sea..to add to my collection. The sun pierces my skin as I hold my face up to soak in its sunflower beauty...

In my hospital bed unable to sleep, I visit Lyme Regis a small seaside town where a magical summer holiday had been spent with my friend and her parents Lottie and Albert!  Each day we woke to the sky as blue as the Caribbean sea. The sun pierced the sky from dawn to dusk and we lay on the beach from morning to late afternoon sizzling in factor 2 suntan oil....treated each day to cream buns fetched from the local cake shop; fresher than the fish from the sea...


My recovery was not as quick as expected and as dark days set in I craved an escape.  I dreamt of a cottage overlooking the sea, decorated with nautical blues and whites...long walks over cliff paths as waves hit the rocks below. Afternoon tea in the seaside garden surrounded by the sweet smell of roses as I stared at the sea...buns oozing cream fetched from the cake shop...

I was trying to escape me....

Driving licence reinstated in 2011 I book a hotel in Lyme Regis, pack my new MINI, enlist the driving skills of my niece and set off on my first adventure. Insisting I drive until tired... then Lois takes over... two giggling girls head for the sea...ipod blaring music...living my dream...
Until my licence was stolen again...


Twenty years from now you

Lyme Regis August 2011

 will be more disappointed
 by the things you didn't do 
than by the ones that you did.
So throw off the bow lines.
Sail away from the safe harbour.
Catch the trade winds in your sails.
Explore. Dream. Discover.
Unknown