In transit

The Lotus Flower In our upside down world, where I am having treatment for cancer, I have turned to the Thich Naht Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen Buddhist Master.  What is truly not real is that I have a 700 euro long, blond wig on the back seat of my car to hide my baldness. A baldness caused by drugs that are hopefully curing my cancer. There are people starving all over the world who have no access to healthcare. Parents are choosing between heating and food. Many people are dying of Aids in Africa. 'Breaking Bad' in Canada would not have made it to the end of the first episode, as the main character's treatment would have started next week and he wouldn't have had to make drugs to pay for healthcare. My hair hasn't completely fallen out yet. It's patchy and short unlike the blond wig I am real I am loved   and that is all that matters .  I beginning to think that this cancer was the gift of love that has saved me from running away from the present moment where you...

What happens when we fall off the edge of a cliff? I have been filling my waiting days with walks in autumnal sunshine through vineyards and forest, with vitamins and a lot of contemplation from the safety of my bed. Yesterday I watched the latest Bond film 'No Time to Die' intrigued how they recreated the characters so authentically, and wove a story web of love, family and sacrifice. It even had an authentic 60s mood. The lab results (of doom) arrived last week but no one was able to give them to me as my gynecologist/surgeon was on holiday. Therefore, I don't know the next step in this breast cancer treatment or if the surgery has been successful. The end of an orangey-yellow walk in last Friday afternoon in a leaf strewn coppery forest was ended with a call from the hospital, giving me an appointment with their head oncologist to get the lab results next week. I saw a little deer on the walk jumping into the depths of the forest on the horizon.  My spouse deals in stati...

Living abroad led us to migrate temporarily back to our homeland at Christmas when the children were little. This traditional transition was very in keeping with biblical precendents except we travelled in a Renault Scenic and the purpose was not to be counted for a census but to visit relatives. We also followed the GPS of course and not a star. Sometimes there was a rain god that would actually cause it to rain around us as we progressed, it seemed.  This annual migration was often fraught with strife. Having been left with the task of looking after the children and loading the car while spouse was at work one year, I gave up trying to fit everything into the space available for transport and gave the children some of their presents to occupy them.  There was the year I bought a frozen turkey in Waitrose at 6.30 am in the morning in Kent and put it in the roof box to keep it cool as it defrosting while we drove up the motorway to Bourton-on-the-Water where we had rented...

This is day 6 of the Second Wait for the lab results following surgery. The First Wait was for the biopsy results. I wonder about walking again, gently, and slowly at first to retune my body from its restive slumber. My mind runs and does circles, stopping in the air sometimes, usually in the middle of the night and wakes me up with a worrying thought as it processes the stress of the last few weeks. This mental overactivity punctuates an otherwise calming time with metaphorical storms. I also get waves of fear that leave me unable to move. These have been subsiding since the surgery as I know that whatever path I now must follow, the source of the cancer has gone. My cup size continues to shrink on one side as the swelling from the surgery goes down. It is healing well, and any pain reminds me that the cancer has gone so it doesn’t cause any discomfort: in fact, the complete opposite. I worry that it will be necessary to go through more surgery to remove more suspect cells when we get...

  I’m writing this, thankfully, with a section of my right breast missing and a number of lymph nodes removed. I am more worried about there being any of the cancer left frankly and would have gratefully let them hack off the whole breast but that is not their way. It’s the next step of waiting. This time I’m waiting for the results of the lab tests on what they’ve removed to see if there is a safe margin.   I wondered about getting my hair cut short. It’s annoying me and I’m giving up on my identity as an attractive woman. I find the stress of being on this pathway to heaven difficult. I haven’t got it cut mainly because I didn’t want to get Covid at the hairdressers and delay the surgery. Although shaving it off did occur to me, I think I will get a professional to do it, if I do.   Waiting for the surgery was horrible. Since the biopsy I’d had pain from the tumour and it kept on reminding me that it was slowly killing me. I was frightened it would spread. ...

  It was with great relief that I was able to walk through the door of the airport gate into the thick, stifling, Maltese heat to get to the waiting plane. It was there. We could all see it. A crew walked over as the people, the previous passengers, with their cabin bags poured off into a waiting bus.   The plane was finally waiting to get us out of here.   One of the larger standard-sized cabin bags overhung the overhead locker. The air-stewardess pushed and pushed to get the door to click shut. It bounced open defiantly, again and again. Good-naturedly, passenger and stewardess rejigged the luggage until the locker could be crammed shut. As this drama played out, passengers with grim, determined, get-me-out-of-here faces flowed past me. Strange smells, vaguely of burning and jet fuel hinted that we were preparing to leave.   The air-stewardess was now struggling with the plane door, apparently jammed part open. It was stubborn, not wanting to be air...