School holidays, pools and a bit of bouncing

After the realisation while on holiday that once in the water, I can do pretty much anything, my physio and I have now decamped to the pool for my sessions.  Walking up the steps with my gym bag was a surreal moment – I definitely never thought I’d be doing that again! And those of you who are sniggering and thinking appearances would suggest I didn’t do it do it often enough before I became ill are correct too. ;-)

I love the pool at Castle Royle.  It’s wonderfully underused (wonderful from my perspective - less so, I suspect from theirs), so I expected to find the usual serene, quiet pool when we arrived.  I had visions of having an almost private environment for my rehab, which would have been ideal.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t factored the Easter school holidays in to that vision...

What we actually walked into was very different. It was full of children. I mean, really full. There must have been about 40 of them all shrieking, screeching and squealing. The noise was deafening. I cannot comprehend how parents cope with that. Kudos to you if you do. All I can think is that you must need industrial strength ear plugs, medication and therapy on a regular basis.

It might as well have been Dante’s seventh circle of hell as far as I was concerned and I wanted to turn tail and abandon this clearly foolhardy plan until the Easter holidays finish.  My physio however, is made of stern stuff.  She grabbed my elbow and marched me towards the pool, while telling me to wave my walking stick around in an out of control/threatening type way.  It worked.  In no time at all, we had a section of the pool to ourselves with all children and parents giving the strange, stick wielding ladies a wide berth.  Excellent. 

The session though tough, was really good, although I’m not sure bouncing (yes, bouncing) two lengths of the pool has done anything for my personal credibility.  Aside from the obvious lady bits, there was far more of me bouncing than there should be.  I did feel for the poor child swimming past me underwater with goggles on.  He'll probably never be the same again...

Nevertheless, it’s all helping get me where I need to be.  And that’s what it’s all about.

A calendar year - but an eternity in my life...

A year ago, to the day, I woke up paralysed from the chest down, completely unable to move. Within six hours, my life and the life of those closest to me, had been turned upside down. A year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. A lifetime... Without a doubt, this has been the hardest thing I've ever had to cope with (and I've had some doozies in my time - some self-inflicted and some not). Having said that, I think I have been lucky. I know not many people would describe my current situation as 'lucky', but over the past year I've gradually started to believe the many medical people (and the nosey old bags I run into on the street and at Waitrose) who tell me I am. Had it not been for cancer twisting around my spine and paralysing me, I'd never have known I had it. I was already at Stage 4 - there's only one stage after that and it's not a happy thought. But it did and so I'm still here. Bonus. The amazing medical care I've received, my sheer bloodyminded determination and the support of my amazing family and friends has meant that I've made way more progress that could have ever been expected. The fact that I'm sunning it up in the Caribbean is testament to that. :-) This trip has been incredible. I was super nervous about coming - afraid that I wouldn't be able to enjoy it to the full. I have yet again surprised myself and it's been one momentous moment after another. I've always been a water baby and the idea of being so close to the sea and by the pool without being able to get in and enjoy them would have been heartbreaking. On day 1, I faced the challenge of getting into the pool. Would I a) go arse over tit and enter gracelessly or would I b) manage to get in the water with some dignity still intact? The answer was a resounding b). Would I be able to stay upright when my visual cues were compromised by the water? Again, a resounding yes! Woohoo! Once I was in there I had another amazing realisation. I could do virtually everything I was able to do before all this shit happened. I was able to walk freely, swim exactly as before and most amazing of all I could run and twist about. I had the best 30 mins ever! Then I was knackered and had to get out. My stamina has been shot to pieces, clearly. On day 2, we decided I was ready to hit the beach. Eek!! Would I be able to cope on the unstable sand? How would I cope with the sea if I tried to paddle? Again, would the swirling water mess up the visual cues my brain needs to help my legs work? The answer again, was I could manage both (albeit with a little wobble when the water started swirling round my feet). Cue amazing walks on the beach with the odd paddle thrown in. Bliss. Basically, as this holiday and time generally goes on, I'm realising that there isn't really much I can't do anymore - I just need to do it more slowly and carefully. Also, I'm still going through physio rehab, so who knows how far I'll get on my long road to recovery? All I need to keep that momentum up is a few more Caribbean holidays, or perhaps a pool at home. Now, where's Kevin disappeared to....? ;-)

Moving on...

Well, hello again.  I didn’t expect to be writing this blog anymore, but over the last few weeks, I’ve had several people tell me I should.  My initial reasoning behind the blog was twofold; one to help me externalise and cope with what I was going through and two, to potentially help anyone else going through something similar.  As I moved through the recovery process and started to regain some semblance of normality, to be honest, I needed the blog less.  However, it would appear with all the nagging, from Mr. J in particular, that I should keep going with it.  I’m not sure how interesting or funny it’ll be now that I don’t have any face down, arse up stories, but I’ll give it a go.

So, the last time I posted, I’d just been given the news that I was clear of the bastard cancer and was in remission.  Huge news.  Massive.  So I went out and got well and truly inebriated – getting out of the pub and home was fun that night.  Being drunk doesn’t work well with crutches and no natural balance!

Anyhoo, given what the cancer had done I was clearly still left with the whole walking challenge.  Not ideal.  I was making fantastic progress given my initial prognosis, but it was still too slow for me.  I kept expecting too much and then being disappointed and frustrated with the reality.

Also, the unrelenting ‘positivity’ I was maintaining was wearing.  Exhausting even. Every now and then I wanted to rant, shout and cry.  I've found that facebook helps me meet and suppress that need.  There’s nothing like a drunken rant on arsebook to remind you the morning after that although you may not be well, you can still make yourself look like a total twat with minimal effort. Particular thanks go to Gary Francis and the Sneddons for reminding me of that. ;-)  Salutary lesson, duly noted, but one which I’m sure I’ll completely ignore next time I overdo it on the sauvignon blanc or rioja.

What’s that? A funny story to keep the readers hooked you say? Ok, I can do that.  Going to the local pub last week for Sunday lunch, Kevin and I were stopped in our tracks by an elderly lady.  I bloody love the elderly – they have no respect for privacy or personal space…  “What’s happened to you? Knee replacement?” she shouted from about 100 yards away.  “No” I said more quietly.  “What then?” she shouted.  Right then you nosey old bag, I thought, so I let her have the whole horrible story.  “Well” she said.  “Aren’t you a lucky girl!” “Am I?” I said.  “Yes”,she said.  “Two years ago, my son’s wife was at work – very bright and successful, just like you (little bit of preening), when she suddenly felt a bit odd and couldn’t feel her fingers.  She was rushed into hospital, two weeks later…..huge pause….DEAD!!!!”  “Really?” I said.  “Well that’s a hugely helpful story, thank you for that”. WTF??

But actually, in a funny way, the old dear was right.  Although I have permanent damage and will never again do a jig or walk a marathon, (was I ever going to do that anyway?) I am still here.  If the cancer hadn’t done its worst on my spine, we’d never have known it was there, and I definitely wouldn’t be around now to regale you with funny tales. Scary stuff when you think of it like that.

And on that bombshell, goodbye for now.

A. xxx

Breaking news!

Apologies for not posting for so long, but I’ve been in a sort of limbo state since I finished chemo and didn’t want to tempt fate…  I had a PET scan a couple of weeks ago to see if the chemo has worked – being injected with radioactive fluid for the scan is most peculiar – and today I got the results.

I AM OFFICIALLY IN REMISSION!!!!

There is not a trace of the horrible shitty cancer left.  I could not be any happier than I am right now.  This leaves the way clear for me to continue to work my arse off on the whole walking again challenge without worrying about ongoing chemo or radiotherapy.  If I could do a happy dance, I would. ;-)

I’m over the moon and am highly likely to have several drinks this evening to celebrate.  You’re welcome to join me if you’d like to.  Row Barge from 6.00. J

Gambling, rehabbing and bar hopping!

Well, time continues to march on, as does my recovery.  Unfortunately, it feels like time is moving super quickly while my recovery does the feckin opposite!  Patience was never a strength of mine and I’m really struggling with the total inactivity that my current condition dictates.  Everyone around me tells me that I’m making fantastic progress – going to the pub on crutches instead of in a wheelchair was a big milestone (both for me and the landlords till!!)  I  know I am progressing, it just feels like it’s happening at a snails pace.  One of my rehab consultants suggested that I learn some formal relaxation techniques.  I can’t print what I said inside my head at that suggestion, as I’m sure the puritanical blogger.com admin people would auto delete the various swear words, but what came out was “Yeah, thanks for that – I don’t think that’s really me though”.  Which I thought was very well held.

The gradual transformation of Chez Jones into a well-equipped gym has continued with the arrival of my parallel bars.  I’m finding them really useful and have already noticed a difference in my ability to walk without holding on (I know, who’d have thought that’d be a big deal apart from on an especially large weekend!)  Mr. J (pictured right :-)) and a few of the other usual suspects have also

found them to be much fun, with various attempts at swinging, jumping and general silliness happening regularly.  It’s bound to end in tears – I can just see me being the one to dial 999 for someone lying prone on the dining room floor – oh, the irony….

 

Finally to the gambling.  I went to Ascot races last weekend and had a bloody brilliant time.  Lots of wine and lots of winning, which pretty much sums up how the races should be.  J  Mr. J, by the way, who bleats on about the correct way to gamble, the lineage of horses, blah, blah, blah, won nothing.  Just saying.

Onwards and upwards - with a little bit of sideways thrown in for good measure....

Crutches, steroids and sulking

Yay!  I’ve moved on from my rollator to crutches, which is fantastic.  Being on crutches is a huge step forward and makes me feel less like a pensioner and more like some young (ish) sports injury victim.  They allow me to move around more freely so I’m now going to be out and about more often.  J  I’m also back in the kitchen telling Kevin how to do various and sundry tasks, which he’s really enjoying.  He’s been excelling at all things domestic since the big C entered our world, the most recent activity being flower arranging.  Yes, you read that right.  Today, he arrived back from shopping with not one, not two, but three bunches of flowers all of which are now artfully arranged around the house.  Feel free to pop over, say hello and check them out...

The flowers do look beautiful and cheer me up no end.  I’ve needed cheering up recently as I’ve had major steroid comedowns and sulks going on.  The main reason being that for years, I’ve manfully attended Henley regatta and festival in all sorts of dull, grey, cloudy and sometimes downright torrential conditions.  The one year I’m out of action it’s bloody glorious for both of them.  Typical.  This wasn’t helped by facebook.  Virtually everyone I know felt the unresistable urge to share the wonderful time they were having with the world.  Yes, yes, I know,  stop whinging Aideen, you didn’t have to read it!  Although I was obviously thrilled for you all, I can’t say I’m sorry the Henley summer madness is over for the moment.  I can get on with recovering without feeling I’m missing out on the best regatta and festival ever.  Aaaaghhh……

Finally, I’m off for what should be my last chemo session next week.  I’m hoping that this time will be as amusing as the last when the most amazing elderly man was having a treatment the same day.  He was an awfully posh chap by the name of William, “but you my dahling may call me Bill”.  He was also blind.  He kept us all amused for the duration of the crappy chemo session by flirting outrageously with the nurses and regaling us with Tam o’  Shanter by the inimitable Robbie Burns which he was reading using Braille.  His friend was with him and when asked a question by one of the nurses, actually used the phrase ‘what, what, what?’ in a genuine, not taking the piss way.  Brilliant. I was in hysterics at and with the two of them for hours.   Bill was a shining example of someone who refuses point blank to let lifes challenges get him down.  An inspirational man.

News Flash!

Thanks so much for all the good wishes yesterday, you can now all uncross your various body parts.

After a nervewracking wait when I alternated between being ready to chew my own arm off with nerves or burst into tears at any second, we went in to see 'the man'.

And yay!!! The news was good!  Very good in fact :-) I'm responding really well to treatment and all is on track. Actually, it's better than on track - I've screeched into the lead in this battle. As planned and hoped, I'm kicking the proverbial arse out of the cancer.

They're really happy with me, but not as happy as I am with me. I'm off now for a cheeky vino to celebrate. Please feel free to join me virtually.