The Virus - Day 7

It's been a while now hasn't it? Don't go looking for a post The Virus Day 1 because there isn't one. This is my first comment on the subject.

Well, here I am, day 7 of our self-imposed isolation.  Actually cannot recall much about the past week, except that the news has become more and more gloomy and the choices more and more difficult.

Living, as I do, with 3/5 of my lungs, and two other vulnerable people, we've decided to batten down the hatches and live with the support of the younger folk who have mobilised marvellously in just a few days. It seems strange not to be at the centre of things, doing the organising.

There's part of me that think "just let's get this over with" and wanting to contract the virus so that I can either die or survive, at which point I guess I'd be immune.  But that is clearly a daft thought, though I'd wager that tens of thousands have thought the same thing. 

The daughter of a friend of ours had already had it and we've heard a description. She got very frightened, but then she's probably never been faced with something that she feared might kill her before. It is undoubtedly the fear that is the worst; the fear of the unknown I guess.

So what am I doing? Well actually I've been incredibly busy in the last week - not, before you ask,  stocking up with toilet rolls. We already buy those in bulk, as I do hand wash. No, I've been setting up various accounts to enable me to take place in virtual meetings. There's also been work to do with organisations that I'm involved with making decisions on whether or not to hold various meetings or continue with plans for things in the summer.

This week will be a consolidation of actions that I need to take, much sitting in the sun as it looks as if it's going to shine in order boost my Vitamin D and perhaps some much needed excercise, again with a view to fending of The Virus. 

So for those reading this in years to come, where are we now? Well the past seven days have seen various actions on the part of the government: closure of schools, closure of all leisure venues, arrangements for the care of key workers' children, guarantees of salarly payments and today, takeover of the railways which it is reported have had a 70% downturn in use. Unnecessary travel frowned upon. Lack of social distancing condemned, but so far no draconian measures.  Pubs were full on the last night of their opening on Friday and that tells you something about the stupidity of some people.

The sun is out again today, it's warm. Yesterday two of us played some music in the garden to entertain the neighbours. So far so good. 

Merry Christmas one and all!

As we roll on into Christmas I am always reminded of the start of my chemotherapy, which I chose to begin on 19th December. That year I sat cuddled in blankets on the day itself, feeling a bit queasy, and dozing in front of the TV.

It seems ages ago now, and here I am still hale and hearty as far as I can discern, and ready for Christmas tomorrow and then in a few days to greet a new year.  For that I am most thankful and grateful to all those lovely chemo nurses, my naturopathic nutritionist, my Journey therapist, numerous friends who provided contacts and advice, all those who prayed for my survival, my amazing family,  my consultant, my reiki therapist, my oncologist and my brilliant surgeon, plus the numerous staff at the three hospitals who did tests, took blood, arranged x-rays. Thank you all for my life.  Here's to 2020!

Eight years and counting

I almost missed the anniversary of my surgery. Well, actually I did. It was two days ago.  Eight years previously on this day I was in hospital with chest drains and an epidural recovering from the removal of the lower two lobes of my right lung.

Today I'm hale and hearty, a little overweight and very glad to be here. I and my best beloved have six grandchildren, the oldest about to finish an apprenticeship, the youngest just one year old. We see them all often. Life is good and we'll celebrate our golden wedding later this year.

If you're reading this because you've been following my story you'll have heard about the damage that chemo did to nerves in my feet and to a certain extent in my fingers.  Well, I was thinking the other day that I can't be sure that some recovery hasn't taken place. Put it this way, my feet feel normal now. Maybe I've just got used to it.  Apart from that (it's called peripheral neuropathy by the way), I think I'm much as I was before the whole adventure started. I still get a bit short of breath walking uphill, but then at my age (approaching 70 fast now) that's hardly surprising and it's no different to how I was before my brush with cancer.

I posted here some years ago ago an x-ray image of my chest, at my last check-up I think it was, My right remaining lung lobe did its best to fill the void, and my diaphragm was moving up. I suspect it moved even further, because these days I can't help feeling that my oesophagus is probably veering slightly to my right (because it can!)  So I looked the image out the other day and it rather confirms the feeling I have when I eat.. Fascinating isn't it? 

Isn't science just wonderful!  The fact that my surgeon could reach inside and cut away the bad bit, stitch me up, and here I am eight years later.  

And talking of eight, a good friend of mine, introducing me to someone the other day and telling of my little excursion into the realms of lung cancer, recounted how I'd only had an 8% chance of survival.  That was news to me, but my friend was a nurse, so she obviously knew what she was talking about.  I was gobsmacked.  I knew my chances were small but at least I thought it was 10%!  It's unbelievable that I'm still here and I'm so grateful that I am.  

A simple bread ingredient

Well, that's what they'd have you believe - but look it up and you'll find that calcium proprionate is a fungicide ingredient of some bread and other manufactured foods.  It stops them going mouldy.

I stated to investigate what caused my IBS after consuming a couple - or was it three? - hot cross buns last year, days - maybe even weeks after they should have grown legs and walked out of the bread bin.  I stuck them in the oven for a couple of minutes, lavished butter on them and consumed them eagerly and gratefully. 

The sense of them passing along the lower reaches of my alimentary canal was intense and I was able to track them most of the way or so it felt.  I was only free of discomfort when they had left me entirely.

The penny didn't drop until some weeks later when a fruit loaf was presented to me.  It was only after eating that and having a similar experience that I looked at the label.  And so began my practice of avoiding calcium proprionate. I can tell you that I'm convinced that when it comes to the chemical being "well-tolerated", that it isn't by me!

Some bread contains it, some biscuits, some other manufactured foodstuffs.  A lot of bread doesn't include it (so why is it necessary at all?!) and as a general rule (useful when presented with a buffet) French sticks are a safe bet. 

Of course it makes sense. You have a gut full of lovely bacteria and into that you put a fungicide. Is it any surprise there are resulting problems? 

Hair cut bonus

I decided that my hair had become far too long.  Because of that chemo curl - remember that? - the slightly tendency to bend which the end of my hair exhibited for a while I'd let it grow longer and longer. I'd been wearing it in a bun a great deal especially during the hot summer.

So yesterday I went to a fabulous local salon where my grandson's girlfriend is training, and offered her the opportunity to chop it off.  She immediately told me that the length that it was would make the excess suitable for the Little Princess Trust  which uses cut hair to make wigs for children and young people who have lost theirs through illness. I gather that I'm in good company as the Duchess of Cambridge has also sent some of hers.

So here 's what will get sent; the plaits.

And here's the finished result.

So not only did I get a free haircut, but hopefully someone will be wearing some strands of my hair in the future and loving their new look too.

Wishing you and yours a very happy Christmas

I didn't expect to be here with you now and further into 2019 - and it's just amazing that I am.  So to all my local followers and to those who stumble on this blog, I wish you a very happy time this season of LED lights and excessive eating.

Seven years and counting ......

Tonight I will raise a glass of red wine and drink to the health and long life of the main who ultimately saved my life by embarking on the surgery to remove two lobes of my lungs. 

For all his study, his skill, his devotion to a career that few would wish for, his experience and his undoubted expertise, I give grateful thanks to Good (and that's not a typo).

"Here's to you and our time together ...."

Cheers!