Life is what you make it!
One always has choices in life. One can choose to be happy or sad. One can choose to live or to die. I have chosen to live. We all have to die some time, but until that happens, we need to squeeze every drop of life out of each day.
My days have become very precious. From the early morning coffee to the late night cup of tea, I am acutely aware that this is yet one more day that I am still alive, and able to enjoy each aspect of life.
I decided to make a loose end blanket. I am a knitter and once upon a time ago, I belonged to a creative knitting club. Not that I was any great shakes, although I did knit a few colourful jerseys and blankets. This time, I am crocheting a blanket. I discovered that I had a whole array of bits and pieces of wool, which I had wound up into little balls, and placed in a plastic bag. I am using these to make a blanket bursting with colour. I am constantly changing the colours to give the best effect. The loose ends are indicative of my life I think.
More tomorrow, whenever that might be. lol!
Thursday, 30 March 2017
Wednesday, 22 March 2017
CANCER! HOW DOES IT MAKE ONE FEEL?
Terrible! The sword of Damocles, hanging over one's head. Never quite knowing when it's going to fall! Never knowing what form it's final death-throws will take. But before I get too carried away, I am alive today, and I intend to remain so for as long as is possible. I think that that's the essence of it. Life is for living, and not for dying. I think that it's very important to have a good attitude and to be positively looking ahead.
I was diagnosed with stage three Ovarian cancer in August last year and so far I have been through three disastrous lots of chemo, have ingested numerous drops of hemp oil, and spent 18 days in hospital. The tumor which wrapped its self around my colon needed to be seen to be believed! I asked the surgeon to show me a picture and he obliged, hauling out this hideous looking mass. I asked him if I could have it, and so now I keep it in my purse and haul it out at a moment notice to scare away any would be muggers.
I thought I was going to die in hospital, and I think quite a few family and friends thought so too, as I had a steady stream of visitors daily. It was reported to me that one visitor went home and told a friend, "You had better get in there fast, I think she's on the way out!" Well! you can't keep and old fuzzy duck down. I have a young friend who nick named me her "fuzzy duck" on account of my snow white hair, and so that's where that comes from. More tomorrow....not knowing whether tomorrow will be in a week's time.
Terrible! The sword of Damocles, hanging over one's head. Never quite knowing when it's going to fall! Never knowing what form it's final death-throws will take. But before I get too carried away, I am alive today, and I intend to remain so for as long as is possible. I think that that's the essence of it. Life is for living, and not for dying. I think that it's very important to have a good attitude and to be positively looking ahead.
I was diagnosed with stage three Ovarian cancer in August last year and so far I have been through three disastrous lots of chemo, have ingested numerous drops of hemp oil, and spent 18 days in hospital. The tumor which wrapped its self around my colon needed to be seen to be believed! I asked the surgeon to show me a picture and he obliged, hauling out this hideous looking mass. I asked him if I could have it, and so now I keep it in my purse and haul it out at a moment notice to scare away any would be muggers.
I thought I was going to die in hospital, and I think quite a few family and friends thought so too, as I had a steady stream of visitors daily. It was reported to me that one visitor went home and told a friend, "You had better get in there fast, I think she's on the way out!" Well! you can't keep and old fuzzy duck down. I have a young friend who nick named me her "fuzzy duck" on account of my snow white hair, and so that's where that comes from. More tomorrow....not knowing whether tomorrow will be in a week's time.
Monday, 27 February 2017
I haven't written on my blog for a long time, but now I think I will blog my cancer journey. Cancer! The dreaded word! The word which strikes terror in the hearts of men and women.
Having been diagnosed with Ovarian cancer sometime in the middle of last year, I had to make a decision as to whether I went onto Chemo therapy or not. At first, I decided that Chemo was not for me, and that I would quietly and in a dignified manner, go to my demise. One's mind is in quite a turmoil when one is confronted with something as ghastly as cancer, and so it wasn't very long before I reassessed my decision, and with fear and trembling, began the treatment at the end of September. I thought that I was worth fighting for.
It always starts with a blood test to see how things are and whether Chemo can be administered or not, then one is given a pill for nausea and hitched up to a drip with a whole array of different sized pouches, seven in all, starting with something for nausea. The fifth pouch is the one with the chemo in it, and it takes three hours to drip itself into you. When it arrived, it looked like washing power. It was all frothy and bubbly at the top. From that day onward, I referred to this part of the treatment, much to the amusement of the sister in charge as "that washing power stuff."
One is obliged to sign a form which states all that will happen to you while you are on the chemo. The list is endless. You can get this, and you will get that, and then at the end it says, and you could die. Every eventuality is covered in that signed form.
Having been diagnosed with Ovarian cancer sometime in the middle of last year, I had to make a decision as to whether I went onto Chemo therapy or not. At first, I decided that Chemo was not for me, and that I would quietly and in a dignified manner, go to my demise. One's mind is in quite a turmoil when one is confronted with something as ghastly as cancer, and so it wasn't very long before I reassessed my decision, and with fear and trembling, began the treatment at the end of September. I thought that I was worth fighting for.
It always starts with a blood test to see how things are and whether Chemo can be administered or not, then one is given a pill for nausea and hitched up to a drip with a whole array of different sized pouches, seven in all, starting with something for nausea. The fifth pouch is the one with the chemo in it, and it takes three hours to drip itself into you. When it arrived, it looked like washing power. It was all frothy and bubbly at the top. From that day onward, I referred to this part of the treatment, much to the amusement of the sister in charge as "that washing power stuff."
One is obliged to sign a form which states all that will happen to you while you are on the chemo. The list is endless. You can get this, and you will get that, and then at the end it says, and you could die. Every eventuality is covered in that signed form.
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