Sunshine State

Well, it was too good to last.  The sun has stopped shining and the rains are here!  The temperature has dropped dramatically and I suspect I will need to buy a coat for the dog.  No sooner had I blogged about the sun and the heavens opened.

On the positive side though my tank is now full.  I've become obsessed with having water in the tank and it has been empty for a couple of weeks so the past few days I've been out there knocking on the side of it to see if I could tell where the water-level is.  Why don't tank designers just automatically put a little viewing thingie on the side so you know if you have water or not.  Probably invented by a guy I'd say.  Anyway, when I went out this morning it was overflowing so I've switched everything back to tank water, i.e. washing machine, toilets, hoses so I feel very virtuous now by conserving water.

I am getting very excited about going back to work next week.  It has been nearly 12 months since I've worked and I am looking forward to focusing on things other than ME.    I am forcing myself to watch snippets of the news and current affair programs as I make my transformation back into the real world.  Don't get me wrong, I'm still getting my fill of Love Boat, Brady Bunch, Golden Girls, Big Bang Theory and of course, Happy Days.  Fortunately, my hours of work will still allow me to watch some of these old time favourites but some will have to go so this week I'm weaning myself off them so the loss isn't too great.

The other good reason for going back to work is that I've started baking cookies.  I'm not sure I've done that before and from scratch, not out of a packet.  Just call me the Domestic Goddess.  I made Anzac biscuits and jam drops and today I'm getting ready to make Gingerbread men for Christmas.

Anyway, must run as Love Boat has already started.

I'm officially a Queenslander

Well, my transformation from Victorian to Queenslander is complete.

Not only do I own two pair of rubber thongs and have a bit of a tan happening but my number plates remind me that I am part of the Sunshine State.  The transformation became complete yesterday when I registered my car in Queensland and collected my new number plates and, for some strange reason, all I could do was cry.  It felt like I was betraying my Victorian family and friends.  I know that sounds crazy, but this is my blog site and I'll cry if I want to.

That 'Sunshine State' is certainly living up to its reputation at the moment.  It is really hot here and I am taking a while to get used to the heat and humidity.  I go to aqua aerobics a couple of times a week because it is way too hot to do any other form of exercise at the moment. 

I even relented and got the dog clipped - he was not a happy puppy I can tell you.  When I brought him home from the groomers he hid out in the spare bedroom for the remainder of the day and for the first few days walks had to be taken under cover of darkness.  However, he is now accustomed to it and I think he realises I did it for his own good and he is no longer sprawled out on the tiles panting although the above photo would contradict this.  Most people have seen him now and have stopped laughing at him so that is probably helping his self-esteem.  The last thing I need is to have to put the dog in therapy!  Since the dog has been clipped, my vacuum cleaner has been having a well-earned rest.  The house isn't filled with swirling dog hair and I'd forgotten what that was like.  Just for the record, even the dog is now registered in Queensland.  As I said, the transformation from Victorian to Queenslander is officially complete.

Crikey - went to Australia Zoo

I know it wasn't on my 'gunnado' list but I went to Australia Zoo last week-end and I am sad to say that it was the first time I'd been.  It was fantastic and I felt a bit like a kid again feeding the elephants, cheering in the crocoseum and patting the kangaroos and koalas. 

I did, however, say I wanted to take plenty of photographs while I was in Brisbane and I certainly did that at Australia Zoo!  I was clicking away like a woman possessed.  What did we do before digital cameras?  I take hundreds now because then I've got a good chance of getting one or two brilliant memories.

Lately I've been thinking about 'passion' and I'm not sure I've ever had a great passion for any particular hobby or cause.  That's not to say I've not had an interest in things because I've tried plenty of different activities and enjoyed them but I've not had that burning desire to keep on doing any one in particular.  Alan had a passion for fishing and he lived and breathed it and I envied him that and now I wish I had a passion for something. Am I too old I wonder to get that?  I really hope not. 

Perhaps I need to live life a little more on the edge and try a lot more things to see if something sparks the passion.  I had been thinking of going back to scuba diving - something I did a lot of in my twenties and really enjoyed.  I have my kayak which is yet to hit the water and for those of you who have read my earlier blogs, I do love to boogie-board.  Fortunately the weather is now getting warm enough for me to start indulging in some of these summer activities so who knows, I might just spark a passion for one of them.

Being at Australia Zoo and seeing Steve Irwin's passion come to life really highlighted my lack of 'passion' for something.  I can pretty much tell you that my passion isn't going to be knitting or playing the guitar - both 'gunnado' items dropping fairly quickly on my list over the last six weeks.  If I'd had a true passion for them surely I'd have found the time to do more of them ...

Anyway, I am into my final two days of radiotherapy in Brisbane and will be back home this week-end and I am looking forward to getting Chewie back with me permanently and beginning the next chapter of my new life.  Who knows what it will hold but I have to remember not to become too complacent and try and live my life more actively and passionately and take the odd risk along the way because as the old cliche goes, 'life isn't a dress rehearsal'.

I think I'm becoming a little bit too philosophical with so much time to think about the meaning of life - maybe I'm spending too much time in the self-help section of the library and book-shops and think I may need to move into the 'Action' section.

 

Radiotherapy Update

Well, I'm already approaching my third week of radiotherapy and so far so good.  I've not been burnt to a crisp yet but it may be worthwhile buying shares in the Sorbolene company I'm using because I am now buying it by the litre - there is no need to muck around with those 250ml tubes.

The 'gunnado' list hasn't got too many ticks against it yet but, surprisingly, I've not been bored as I've had people with me most of the time playing tourist here in Brisbane.  I watched the AFL Grand Final at the Gold Coast casino with a Collingwood supporter so that worked out well, unless of course you are a 'Pies' fan.  I must say, as the match progressed there were more and more Geelong supporters coming out of the wood work, unless of course they were Collingwood supporters jumping ship.

We went on the giant Brisbane Wheel at Southbank which was quite good, admittedly it's not the London Eye but at least they have one that is still standing, unlike Melbourne!  As far as my Thai cooking class goes, I have gone and eaten at the restaurant to ensure that the food is good - I don't want to learn to cook 'dodgy' Thai food.  On the other hand, if it turns out I'm not that good at it I could always blame the cooking school ... good chance I will do that anyway.

Why do we use ... (dot dot dot) when we write I wonder?  It really does leave things up to the reader to interpret but I like it because it can say everything or it can say nothing at all.  Maybe it's a cop out but as the song goes, "You say it best when you say nothing at all".

I'm still knitting and am actually considering something a little more challenging having found a few videos online to show me how to increase and decrease stitches.  I think it's time I moved on from the basic square because life is too short for just squares - you need a few bends and twists along the way so you don't become too staid.  It's time I started challenging myself again - even if it is in the knitting arena.  Unlike other people who are diagnosed with cancer and go on to achieve amazing feats like conquering Mount Everest, starting their own Foundation etc etc.  It does make me sound a bit slack really but a very good friend of mine said that not everybody has to do something amazing, that the World needs cogs in the wheel as well. 

That sounds a bit like a cop out though, maybe we are all meant to achieve something amazing in our life.  If nothing else, getting diagnosed with cancer does make you question life a lot more.  At this stage though I've not got any answers - just questions.

Stage 2 - Radiotherapy

Well, I have begun Stage 2 of my recovery program with my first session of radiotherapy today.  I am not glowing in the dark which is a good thing but I'm guessing by the end of the six weeks I won't need a microwave!

It is such a scary process - like anything I suppose, the first time you have to do something you know nothing about is frightening.  I was like that when I started the chemotherapy - scared out of my wits!  The good thing is though that I survived that and I'm sure I will survive this as well.

The hardest thing is being in Brisbane and away from my new home.  I'd only just started nesting and I had to pack up and leave it all behind. 

I don't believe that the radiotherapy will make me sick - just a bit tired.  Ex chemo patients apparently don't find it too bad.  The chemotherapy obviously toughens us up and we can cope with almost anything - even getting "nucked" - is that how you spell "nucked" - you know what I mean anyway.

It was amazing how many people were there in the oncology day therapy section at Brisbane hospital.  It is so sad to think that so many people are being treated for cancer - I'm definitely not on my own that's for sure.  It does make me continue to ask "Why?"

Anyway, instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself I need to re-visit my "gunnadoo" list and start planning.  I actually am feeling quite stressed at the moment and a bit tearie  because I am so out of my comfort zone and am not sure what the future holds.  Again, it is that sense of being alone that freaks me out more than the cancer, chemotherapy or radiotherapy. 

On a brighter note though I picked up instalment 4 of "The Art of Knitting" so I will start on my fourth square today and perhaps learn a new stitch or two and enjoy the nice warm weather here in Brisbane.

Gunnado List

When I was working I was a list freak.  I had lists for everything.  My running sheets were legendary amongst my colleagues when organising events and could quite easily run over three pages.

Since I've stopped work, I can barely find a pen and I've given up wearing a watch but I'm beginning to think if I don't start making lists and getting my act together, I'll do nothing but talk about what I'm 'gunnado'. 

As part of my treatment, I need to spend six weeks in Brisbane getting radiotherapy so I've decided to make the most of this time and use it as a health retreat. OK, I know what you are thinking - 'radiotherapy' isn't usually listed as a health treatment at the world's top spa resorts along with Sea Salt Massage and Hot Rock therapy but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.  I figure if I fill the six weeks up with pleasant things then the actual 'radiotherapy' will take a back-seat.

I thought if I actually put in writing here on my blog site the things I'm 'gunnado', it may well force me to do them (or at least some of them).

• Find a yoga class and go as often as possible
• Learn to meditate
• Do some light weight training
• Take my juicer and invent healthy fruit & vegetable concoctions
• Do a Thai and/or Vegetarian cooking class 
• Walk everyday
• Go on Brisbane's giant ferris wheel at Southbank
• Take a trip on a Brisbane River Cat
• Visit the art gallery (try and put some culture into my life)
• Do a photography course for a day
• Take lots of photos and write
• Keep up my knitting

The knitting is a bit left-field but I'm finding it quite therapeutic although I'm still only knitting squares at the moment. I'm not sure I'll get past the squares actually.  Those knitting patterns look a bit tricky I reckon - especially at the moment when I have the attention span of a gnat.  That's a weird saying isn't it?  How do poeople know that gnats have a short attention span.  It's a bit derogatory to gnats even though I don't really even know what one is - a gnat that is.

It will be interesting to see how many of these things I do during my six-week sabatical. 

Where are all my favourite authors?

I love nothing more than a good "Chick Lit" book but, because I've been reading so much lately, I've read all my favourite author's books.  I wish they'd bloody put out some new ones - don't they know that I need something good to read.  I've been using the library lately in the hope of discovering a new favourite author but so far, NOTHING! 

Some of my favourite "Chick Lit" authors are Maeve Binchy (all time favourite), Cathy Kelly, Marian Keyes and Monica Macinerney so, if by chance any of you are reading this, then can you do me a favour and get writing.  I love your work.

Nothing is nicer than getting a new novel from one of your all time favourite writers, making a hot cup of coffee, curling up in your favourite chair, opening a cherry ripe and starting the journey - meeting the new characters, learning to love (or hate) them and becoming engrossed in their world.  This is Bliss!

On the other hand, nothing is worse than starting on a book that you just can't warm to.  It is so depressing - the coffee and the cherry ripe are fine but I am no longer bothered to read books all the way through if I'm not enjoying it.  If I'm not into it in the first two to three chapters then down it goes. 

Life is too short to read crappy books.  In fact, when I think about it, in my opinion life is too short for a lot of things like:

• Drinking wine from cheap glasses (doesn't matter if the wine is cheap),
• sleeping on less than 500 thread count sheets,
• Eating dried pasta and not making your own (try it, you'll love it and its very therapeutic),
• Drying yourself with rough towels (they have to be soft and fluffy)

If anybody knows any great chick-lit authoris, please let me know.  I'm willing to give any of them a chance with a coffee and cherry ripe.

Final Dose of Chemotherapy

Today is a very auspicious day for me - I had my last round of chemotherapy.  It is very early days yet but I actually feel OK.  I feel a bit flushed but not sick and I enjoyed dinner this evening with all of my taste buds in tact.  What more can I ask for?

As usual, the nurses in the Bundaberg Hospital oncology day ward were nothing but wonderful and presented me with a stunning purple orchid before I left to mark the occasion.  I'll miss the girls up there - I see them every week and have spent hours with them during my treatment days.  They have become a bit of a security blanket for me.  I know that makes me sound a bit needy but during this time they have been the people with all the answers and I've grown to depend on them so much. 

On a more positive note (there is always a silver lining), I have had the PICC line removed from my arm so I can now shower without a plastic bag on my arm and that I can assure you has been a long time coming.  Hopefully, I will be able to sleep on my side tonight and not flat on my back which has been a necessity in recent months.  It's amazing how we take these small things for granted. 

I just realised that I will now be able to go swimming and for those of you have read my earlier blogs, I can get back into my new sexy swimming cossies that I bought to celebrate my sea change to Bundaberg.  Life is getting back on track!!!!  The boogie-boarding may have to wait until the warmer months but I think I can manage the local heated swimming pool. 

Before I do this I may have to invest in a bathing cap because I don't want to be scaring small children with my bald head - actually it has a bit of a fluffy thing happening and looks scarily like a baby orangutan.  For the first time in my life the only body hair problems I've got before donning my bathers is the hair on my head.  Makes a change from shaving, waxing, depilitory creams and bleaching doesn't it?  In hindsight, I will never complain again about hair removal treatments but will gladly embrace them and enjoy the feeling of having body hair ripped from my skin with hot wax because I now know the alternative is far worse. 

The chemotherapy is the first 'therapy' in the line-up with my next challenge being radiotherapy which starts in mid September and goes for six weeks.  In the words of Scarlett O'Hara in 'Gone With The Wind' though, "I shall think about that tomorrow."

For now, I am going to enjoy my time not having to go for Chemotherapy and think about my new townhouse which, if all goes to plan, settles in early September. The move into my own apartment is a big milestone in my journey towards independence and I am getting very excited about this.  It is scary to be doing this on my own without Alan but I know I can do it, I just have to stay strong and focused and learn to ask for help from family and friends.  What I've discovered since moving back to Bundaberg is that my family want, and are happy, to help me so sometimes I have to be a little less independent and accept their assistance.

Iit will be wonderful getting all my own possesions arounds me again and eating what and when I like and watching anything I like on TV, having the dog inside with me, grocery shopping, sleeping in.  On the downside though I will have to do my own washing and ironing.  I guess not every cloud has a silver lining after all!  (Thanks Mum)

Neenish Tart - Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride

Having come back to live in Bundaberg after just thirty years it was nice to wander around the central business district to see what shops were still around from my teens.  You can’t imagine my delight when I saw Lushus Cakes.  It just goes to show, you can’t keep a good cake shop down.

The memories came flooding back to me.  As the office junior back in the 1970s my biggest priority of the day was to collect morning tea for the guys in the office.  I know, I know – things were a lot more sexist back then and because I was not only the office junior but a ‘girl’ as well meant we didn’t even bother to draw straws, I was it.

Every day I’d head down to Lushus Cakes with a cardboard box to buy copious quantities of cream buns, cream donuts, cottage pies, sausage rolls, buttered Boston buns, apple turnovers and vanilla slices and the very occasional Neenish tart.   It was obvious that high cholesterol wasn’t a big deal back in the mid 1970s.  It still amazes me how much the guys in that office could devour – just at morning tea!

As I stood looking in the window of Lushus Cakes there sat a lone Neenish tart looking very sad and neglected calling out, ‘pick me, pick me’.  What is it with the Neenish tart?  I think it is the most under-appreciated baked item around.  Is it because it is smaller than a cream bun or a vanilla slice (aka ‘snot block’) and people don’t think they’re getting value for money?  Have people actually tried a Neenish Tart to see just what delicacy lies beneath the elegant icing? 

Within the realms of baked goods, you have competitions for the best pie or the best vanilla slice and this has helped raise their profile.   In the meantime, the poor old Neenish tart is treated like some poor relation, doomed to be left on the shelf when all the more glamorous cakes and tarts have been devoured.

Sadly, the Neenish tart is always the bridesmaid of the cake world and never the bride.

Don’t be lured by the giant calorie-laden, cellulite-generating cakes in the shop window that should come with a year’s gym membership.  Give the Neenish tart a try and I think you will be pleasantly surprised when you crack open the unassuming two-toned icing on top.  Remember, good things come in small packages – just like the small and elegant Neenish tart.

Hair - what hair?

Well, it's finally happened.  My hair is now a distant memory and I've taken to wearing a wig.  At this point, I'm not sure what to do with my eye brows though.  Unfortunately, the left one is disappearing way faster than the right and I suspect I have one ear just slightly higher than the other.  Perhaps this is just to take the focus off being completely bald - just for the record, it's not working.  I'm now walking around with my head slightly tilted.

On the bright side though - there's always a silver lining.  It feels fantastic having a shower and feeling the warm water running over your head.  It feels all tingly and relaxing and I'm loathe to get out of the shower.  The other good thing is my underarm hair is all but gone but my leg hair is hanging on for all its worth - it is putting up a mighty fight so I have to admire them for that.  I need to remember to take a leaf out of their book and keep on fighting. 

In my quest for inner peace and health I have finally gone along to my first yoga class - one of the many things I've been 'gunnado' for years and something I promised I would pursue once I moved to Bundaberg.  I really enjoyed it, although it was difficult for me to do some of the exercises because of my two dodgy arms but the relaxation and meditation sections were fantastic and I am now sorry I didn't learn to do this years ago.  I could have saved a fortune by not watching shopping TV throughout the night!

At first it was hard for me to focus on relaxing and my mind kept skipping to other crucial things like, what am I going to have for lunch?  has my turban twisted around?  does my bum look big in these trackie dacks ..... etc etc.  But, the final relaxation/meditation session just fell into place and I was sorry when we had to come back to life.  I wanted to yell, "NO, LEAVE ME HERE TO SLEEP - DON'T YOU KNOW I HAVEN'T SLEPT SOUNDLY IN YEARS!"

Unfortunately, when I tried the technique on my own at home to try to get to sleep I had no luck.  I suspect I need the background music, soothing voice and tinkling Tibetan bells.  Needless to say, I'll be back there next week if all goes to plan.  Even if it just to have a good 30 minute power nap.

A friend of mine from New Zealand sent me a message which is "Kia Kaha" which means 'stay strong'.  I love the way it sounds and am trying to live the message as well (just like my leg hairs).

Vintage Cars - definitely worth recycling!

Windscreen Wipers – why bother?

Who’d have thought that there are whole clubs dedicated to old cars?  Heaven help you though if you call it an old car ... from now on I shall refer to them as hot rods or classic cars.

As far as I can tell, the one thing they all have in common seems to be their windscreen wipers – or lack thereof.  They either don’t have them, have only one, or they just don’t work at all.

Here I was thinking that the owners didn’t take their cars out in the rain so as not to spoil the duco. Now I know the real reason.  Bloody windscreen wipers don’t work!

I had my first ride in a hot rod just recently so I was quite excited.  I watched a couple of old Happy Days episodes for a refresher course on being ‘cool’.    I’m not sure I could tell you what type of car it was but it was beautifully painted in orange and had luxurious cream leather upholstery.    

Everything was going well until it started to rain so, to overcome the lack of adequate windscreen wipers, the driver sped up.  I am guessing the theory behind this mad stunt was that speed would deflect the water off the windscreen.  Yeah, right!  That might have worked with a modern-day, sloping, aerodynamically designed windscreen but not your straight up and down vertical model. 

Owners of these cars are able to replace entire motors but can’t get the windscreen wipers to work!  Do they not think that’s an important safety feature?  I notice that they put in seat-belts and I’m sure they didn’t come standard in the original versions. 

The windscreen wiper was invented circa 1903 and, just for the record, was invented by a woman, Mary Anderson.   I’m sure the idea came to her when she was travelling with a male partner who, way back then, also thought it was a good idea to speed up to deflect the water.  As the saying goes, “necessity is the mother of invention”.

On the other hand, maybe she invented it one rainy evening  stuck at home, bored to tears baking scones, making cups of tea for her husband and playing parlour games.  She possibly thought, “if only we could go for a drive on this rainy night and I could pay somebody to make me tea and scones and I don’t have to keep pretending to enjoy  playing bridge and charades”.  Next thing you know, cars are fitted with windscreen wipers.   As they say, the rest is history.  We now have coffee shops on every corner, Devonshire teas served in the country and all of this because of Mary Anderson.  I really don’t think she gets as much credit as she deserves. 

Anyway, back to my story.  On arrival at our destination on that fateful rainy night it was all I could do not to fall to my knees and kiss the ground in true Papal style.   If I had my own door, I probably would have but, being a two-door meant I had to wait for the people in front to get out and then I had to manoeuvre my sizeable butt out of the back seat making sure not to trip over the running-board.  This probably looked ‘uncool’ enough without falling to my knees and kissing the bitumen.  Also, never once did I see any of Richie Cunningham’s girls do that.  Mind you, they didn’t go out in the rain either.

It’s a shame that the beautiful cream leather upholstery now has my fingerprints permanently embedded into the back doors. 

Asked would I go again – hell yes!  I will, however, be sure to check the weather forecast.

When does Second-Hand become "Vintage"

Maybe I'm the only person who doesn't quite get "Vintage".  Is it just second-hand stuff and, if so, why not just rummage through the local op shops instead of paying top-dollar for old stuff?  At least if you go to the op shops you are helping out the needy in our society so not only are you getting something new (or old) you can easily justify the expenditure because it's actually donating to charity.  In fact, I wonder if you buy your stuff at op shops you can claim it on your tax?

I was looking in a "Vintage" shop today and yes, it did bring back some memories of clothes my sisters and I were wearing in the 60s and 70s and I'm telling you, they didn't look that great back then and, in my eyes, they still don't look that great now.  Maybe your "Vintage Dior" or "Vintage Versace" may be worth the big bucks because I think they stand the test of time.  They genuinely are works of art with hours of labour going into creating the lace and beading but I think they are really pushing the "Vintage" tag to the extreme on a lime green cotton shift dress with machine-embroidered flowers or a multi-coloured crocheted poncho!

In the famous words of Darryl Kerrigan in "The Castle" - 'Tell 'em they're dreamin'.

It's not that I don't appreciate retro and vintage things.  There are many things that you have to love and admire from this era.  For example, old cars look fantastic and bring back memories of a less complicated lifestyle.  It conjurs up colourful images of Elvis and rock & roll, the drive-in movies, malted milks and sock-hops, pony-tails and cheer leaders.  Hang on - I have got to stop watching Happy Days!

Don't forget  the VW combi camper - how cool were they?  These were probably the original motor-home and shouldn't be thrown on the trash heap and I would encourage recycling of these. 

With "Vintage" clothes though - who decides when clothes become "Vintage"?  Are thereVintage police out there somewhere going through the big pile saying "Yes", "No", "Are they kidding?, "What the xxxx" , "What were they thinking!"

First Dose of Chemotherapy

Well, I've had my first dose of chemotherapy and am proud to say that I have survived although there were a couple of days there that my family may have thought otherwise.  In fact, I thought otherwise! I staggered from the bathroom to the bedroom, to the recliner chair and then to the lounge before going back to the bathroom to pee.  The peeing was endless.  No doubt that had plenty to do with the gallons of water I'd been told to drink. I was in the bathroom about every 90 minutes for the first few nights so sleep was very elusive.

It hasn't been quite a week and I am thinking one down and three to go.  I guess that is a positive and I haven't decided to quit after the first dose.

It doesn't matter what symptom I get at the moment, I blame it on the chemo (like blame it on the boogie).  The first few nights I was having weird nightmares where I woke up in a lather of sweat and screaming.  I haven't had nightmares like that since I watched  Silence of the Lambs.  I get weird aches and pains all over the place - in my joints and sometimes just a quick stabbing pain in my shin and then my shoulder.  I just hope this means it is doing its stuff like a little pac-man chomping its way through any stray escaped cancer cells it comes across.

The amount of support and information that is available for breast cancer patients is nothing short of amazing so, in many cases I think I may have been able to counteract some of the symptoms such as mouth ulcers and dry skin.  In fact my skin hasn't been this moist and supple in years because I'm encouraged to look after my skin and moisturise regularly because of both the surgery and the chemotherapy.  My hands and arms are now beautiful and soft and my nails are glowing from putting about 50 coats of nail strengthener on to combat possible breaking nails.

For years I've had this crease between my eyebrows (some people may call it a wrinkle but not me) which I thought was a permanent fixture but it appears that not working and looking after my skin with beautiful quality products (complements of Look Good Feel Better) has reduced this dramatically.  I can now see that there is a direct link between how well I sleep and the depth of the crease (or wrinkle if that's the road you're taking ).  Every morning I jump up out of bed, or at least drag my butt up slowly to check on the sleep-o-meter crease and it does me the world of good when I have trouble locating it.  I'm now a girl on a mission to get rid of it for good.  If it can disappear for hours at a time then it can piss off permanently.

The fact that I'm not working also gives me ample time to pamper my skin so I'm cleansing, toning, gelling, moisturising, eye-creaming, neck creaming daily and masking regularly.  Hopefully, if I have glowing pampered skin I won't feel so bad about things if and when my hair falls out.  On this matter though I have been trying on hats, scarves, turbans and wigs so I hope to be prepared and not have a melt-down.

Tomorrow I'm back to the hospital to get the dressing changed on my PICC line (for the uninitiated, this is best described as a direct link to drugs) and if I'm up to it, a visit to the wig shop just to see if there is anything there that takes my fancy.  Perhaps a blond bob like Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman .....

From Boogie-Boarding to Breast Cancer

I left Melbourne on Anzac day to move back to Bundaberg to be with my family after my husband died.  At the time, I didn’t think too much about the Anzac connection but now I can’t help feeling it was a sign.   It meant I had the fight of my life on my hands.

Mostly it was frightening packing up my life with Alan, selling the house and saying goodbye to family and friends but always in the back of my mind there was this element of excitement that kept me going.  I was getting the opportunity to start afresh.  I was moving to a warmer climate to find a new job and buy a new house and begin again close to my family.

I’d barely started on my new journey before I discovered a lump in my breast and from then on I have been living in a nightmare just waiting to wake up.  

One day I was boogie-boarding in the surf feeling fantastic and two days later I’m getting mammograms, ultrasounds, needle biopsies and a core biopsy.  I barely knew what these things were.  By far, the worst thing is waiting for results.  I thought I suffered from insomnia before but the nights spent wide awake imagining the worst were the worst nights I’ve ever experienced.  Scared and feeling very alone even though I was surrounded by family.  During this time I tried to tell myself that I had a lump in my breast that could be benign.  I tried not to even think of the word ‘cancer’ because it was way too hard to deal with.

I shall never forget sitting in the surgeon’s office and being told “you have breast cancer”.  It was like being in a tunnel with the words echoing around my head.  The next words I heard were “choice of mastectomy or lumpectomy”.  My head was spinning and I’m surprised I didn’t faint but it is amazing how you can deal with a crisis situation when you have to.

I had no idea what to do or where to go after hearing the diagnosis I’d been dreading.  How I got to meet with the McGrath Foundation Breast Care nurse I can’t even recall but it was the best thing I could have done.  My mum, who had been by my side throughout the ordeal, came with me to meet Margie Mears who put the world back into perspective for me.  For this I am very grateful.

Within days of my diagnosis I was admitted to hospital for a lumpectomy.  Having only been to hospital once before as a kid to have my appendix out I was really scared and had no idea what to expect.  Half of me was thinking I should just have left the lump alone and the other half was grateful that I was at least starting on the cure and not waiting for something.   I hate the waiting!

I don’t think it is unreasonable for me to say that I hate pain and I am assuming that I have a very low tolerance to pain.  Nobody knows this for sure though – I am just guessing.   Up until this point, getting a blood test was a major ordeal for me.  If I’d known the pain I was about to endure I think I would have backed out and gone back to boogie boarding.  I thought the mammogram was painful until I experienced the test for the sentinel node biopsy.  If you are feint-hearted or weak-stomached you may want to stop reading now.  This procedure involved injecting blue dye into my breast through the nipple area with the sharpest of needles with absolutely NO pain relief.  I want to add that it wasn’t just one needle but FOUR.  I’m not sure they’d heard such obscenities in the laboratory as they did that day. 

The surgery was somewhat uneventful because of the anaesthetic but again, I find myself back waiting for pathology results.  I hate the waiting!  I was feeling well and confident that everything would be fine and I’d be back boogie-boarding, job and house-hunting within a couple of weeks.  Who was I kidding?  Back to the surgeon’s office to be told he had good and bad news.  The good news being that he had successfully removed two tumours (first I’d heard there were two!) and the bad news being there were signs of cancer in one of the two lymph nodes he had removed. 

At this point I cried – I didn’t know what else to do.  I couldn’t stay strong any longer.  I wanted to yell and scream – it just wasn’t fair.  Why me? What had I done to deserve this? I read of other people who show amazing strength at times like this and I wish I could be like that but I can’t.  I still can’t help thinking of the unfairness of it all.  I’d lost my husband only five months ago from cancer and here I am - having to face the fear all over again but without my partner by my side.  At this stage, if there was a choice to “opt out”, I would have gladly taken it.  Life doesn’t work like that though.

Again, I am amazed by the strength of the human mind to get back up but I do and find myself back in hospital to have my lymph glands removed.  I am certainly getting value for money on my health insurance at the moment.  Mind you, I’d rather not be.

To be honest, up until this point I wasn’t really sure what a lymph node actually did – this was probably a bonus now that I know what I can’t do without them.  I’m sorry I didn’t pay them more attention and show them more respect when I had them.

As I sit in hospital waiting (I hate the waiting!) to have the drain removed and go home I can’t help thinking how long it has been since I have had some ‘me time’ which I am getting in abundance.  I am enjoying re-connecting with my family, reading, sleeping, writing, watching TV, talking to staff and eating well-balanced meals and thinking about my future and what I can achieve.

I am starting to come out of the tunnel and can see and can see a glimmer of light as I come to the end of the first leg of my journey to recovery.

Can you be too old to boogie board?

I hit the surf the other day to test run my new bathers on a boogie board.  Yes, you read it right - boogie boarding!  It's not just for skinny teenagers you know. 

As a skinny teenager (those were the days), I was always in the surf or at least sun-baking on the beach and it feels great to be back in the salt water and walking on the beach sand-blasting the hard skin off the bottom of my feet.  Now that's something I didn't think of when I was a skinny teenager.

Anyway, back to my boogie-boarding exploits.  It was fantastic!  Once I was on the board, riding the wave into the shore with the white water frothing around my ears the years disappeared away and I was 16 again in my sexy little white, crocheted bikini.  BANG!  the years very quickly came back when I hit the shore.  How do you gracefully get up to walk back out to catch another wave!  I'm sure I used to just pop up but I found myself on all fours heaving myself up like a big sack of potatos.

New Bathers/Togs/Swimmers .....

I've done it!  I finally had the guts to go into the bathers shop and ask for help.  Normally, I slink in and try and hide behind the racks of skimpy slivers of lycra and nonchantly look for the larger ladies bathers and slink out again with nothing.  Why do they put the bathers for the fuller-figure ladies way at the back of the shop?  It's like we have to walk the walk of shame.  Why can't they put them midway down the shop to one side so, if you are not a gorgeous 20-something, tanned, size 10, you can slink in inconspicuously.

This horror of buying new bathers is how I ended up in Queensland with a 10 year old tankini with dodgy elastic in one leg.

As my departure to Bundaberg for my 'sea change' is rapidly approaching I thought it was time to get myself a sexy new cossie.  This time, I asked for help - a fairly novel concept for me.  I must complement the assistant in the Seafolly shop at DFO in Essendon - she really new her stuff.  She brought me in about six pair of bathers and all of them fitted, hid some of my problem areas (maybe not all of the muffin top but, hell, she isn't a miracle worker) and looked pretty dam god - even if I say so myself.

I am now the proud owner of two cossies - one tankini and a sexy aqua and white one piece which really highlights my curves.  I am now ready for my sea-change. 

One downfall that I'd forgotten all about when one wears bathers on a regular basis and that is the whole waxing ordeal.  Having grown up in Queensland waxing became a normal part of my beauty routine but I never got used to the excruciating pain.  You would think by the time you get to 50 this wouldn't be necessary - that nature would have stepped in to give us a break from unwanted bloody hair.  Or perhaps nature thought that by the time you got to 50 you woldn't be wearing bathers.  Someone needs to remind 'nature' that 50 is the new 40!

I can't understand why underarm hair, leg hair and bikini line hair never stops growing but, for some reason, over-plucked or waxed eyebrows don't grow back even though I'd welcome full, thick and glamorous eyebrows.  Whatever possessed us to pluck our eyebrows so thin in the 70s?  Has anybody come up with a 'yeah yeah' solution for eyebrow regrowth?

Insomnia

We've all been there - lying awake at 2.00am, tossing and turning, watching the clock and calculating how long you've got before you need to get up and function as a human being.

There are a million cures for insomnia but let's face it, if you've got real issues in your life and big decisions to be made, counting sheep just doesn't cut it.  I've counted so many sheep I could get a job as a shepherd.  Come to think of it, I should add this skill to my resume because I am looking for a job. 

I find I get more sleep on the couch in front of the television.  The pressure to sleep isn't as great there. 

Did you know that there are old episodes of "Love Boat" on in the early hours of the morning?  They don't make shows like that anymore do they!  I can remember wanting to be a cruise director like Julie when I was younger and wear those fantastic clothes.  Nothing beats the glamour of the 1970s and 1980s.  Did you know that Billy Crystal was one of the writers for this show - no wonder I love "When Harry Met Sally".  Anyway, back to my insomnia issues.  Due to lack of sleep I can't stay focussed.

Apart from Love Boat, there is Shopping TV on just about every free-to-air channel during the early hours.

I am now the proud owner of an Abmaster Pro, a steam mop and a heavy-duty juicer that claims you can virtually put the entire fruit tree in one end and get a healthy glass of juice out the other. 

I've been tempted on a number of occasions to ring up for the AAH bra - that's what its called.  This isn't a 'typo'.  It's like a little crop top that you can layer and it has no underwire or clips and claims to make the most saggy boobs look perky.

Insomnia is a costly exercise for me personally but it's obviously very good for the economy. Surely I can't be the only person ringing in to get these fantastic deals before they run out.  I bet nobody ever sends the stuff back if they aren't completely satisfied because it is just way too much trouble.  You just fold up your Abmaster Pro and put it under the bed to gather dust and drag it out to sell at your next garage sale. 

Don't even start me on garage sales - someone needs to shoot me if I ever utter those words again!

These shopping TV companies are preying on insomniacs because we are weakened from lack of sleep and not seeing reason and generally forgetting we already own a steam mop and a juicer we've only used once.

I wonder why they don't promote sleeping tablets or weird whale music in the early hours of the morning - at least they are things that might help people get to sleep because I'm telling you that I have never steam-mopped, juiced a fruit tree or did ab-crunches at 2.00am.  Marketing gurus really need to pick up on this cheap TV time-slot and start doing infomercials for products to help the insomniacs in the world.

Tonight I might just try a big nip of Bundaberg Rum and hope that works.  Whatever way it turns out, it's going to be cheaper than buying another piece of crap to sell at my next garage sale.

Deb