So where was I?

I think I've lost a little mojo. Some may say I've matured and that may be so but still, I wish I could wade into an argument guns ablaze, ready to defend my opinion. And I have defended my opinion, almost to the death. I have also however admitted when I was wrong, much as I hate doing that but sometimes a girl's got to do what she's got to do!
For now; my daughter and her cousin were involved in a FB spat. I supported my daughter's point of view and before I had time to think it through, I posted my support on FB as well. Jeez louis, what was I thinking? Anyway I was "unfriended' by the niece, and her mother. I apologized to the mother for sticking my nose into a place where it surely didn't belong and hoped it would be left at that. However, now my daughter is being accused of lying and I want to strangle the bitch (the mother) and tell her where to get off in language so far above her intellectual incapacities, she'll never understand it even if she stood on the shoulder of God.
But I won't because I'm mature.
By God I miss myself.

This is a post that I copied from another blog and unfortunately I can't remember which blog! I will go on the hunt for it and please god if I find it I will acknowledge it but for now it makes so much sense to me that I have to post it. It's about how you can make someone's life someone who has cancer or any other shitty illness, how you can make it easier. Pause, read this and remember it

. Be there. Don't suddenly drop off the face of the Earth just because I have cancer. I'm easily pleased: a postcard, a two-dollar violet, a phone call. Don't procrastinate -- I need your friendship and support now.

2. Don't treat me differently. I am the same person. Some cells are running wild in my body, but I still like to laugh, go to movies, swim at the Y. Life goes on.

3. Please do ask me how I am. I may not always want to talk about my illness or my treatment, and I probably won't but if you don't even ask " How are you?" a central fact of my life suddenly becomes shuttered, forbidden and unacknowledged, a deep black hole that we tiptoe carefully around pretending it's not there.

4. Make a concrete gesture of support. I'm not good at asking for help, and the last thing I want to do is to blunder into accepting an offer that was never meant to go beyond words. If you see something you might be able to do, please suggest it. Cancer has abruptly turned my life upside down, and I often don't have the time or resources to figure out how I am going to manage my daily routine. If you're able to ferry my kids to Girl Guides along with your own, pick up a few groceries when you're headed my way, lend me a floppy hat or pretty scarf, or watch for the school bus when I have an appointment, please make the offer. It's hard to be asking all the time.

5. Listen to my family. My husband and kids are in this too. Sometimes kids have questions they may be afraid to ask at home. Answer them honestly, if you can't. If you think I need to know about what's worrying them and can fill me in without violating their confidence, I want to hear it. My husband is also carrying a load that's rarely acknowledged. If he needs to talk about his fears and pain, please listen.

6. Take my kids out. For my kids, the strain and uncertainty of having a sick parent is immense. After a while, home feels like a combination hospital ward/funeral parlor/loony bin. They need to have a bit of fun and remember what "normal" feels like. Please think about including them in your plans; maybe a trip to the apple orchard, cocoa and skating, or story time at the library.

7. Bring food. Regardless of their physical state, anyone diagnosed with cancer is emotionally and mentally shell shocked. For months, I had the attention span of a gnat. Even making a cup of tea was an organizational challenge. Without the casseroles and jars of spaghetti sauce friends had put in the freezer, there were days we would have been dining on peanut butter and crackers.

8. Be patient with my work habits. If you're a colleague or employer, please bear with me. Cancer patients sometimes fell as if we haven't got much time left, and we're spending it in waiting rooms. I know these endless appointments are inconvenient. I know I'm probably not working at peak capacity. But I'm doing the very best I can.

9. Listen to me. I get tired of being strong all the time. It's great to hear about your cousin in Montreal who had exactly the same cancer and is doing fine, but there are days when I really don't feel things are going well. I'd like to be able to talk about it. Please don't silence me with bouncy optimism. Every cancer patient knows we don't all make it. I need to be able to acknowledge that.

10. Do unto others. Perish the thought, but you may be there one day

"For others I wait..."

Thomas Mann said, "Waiting we say, is long. We might just as well - or more accurately - say it is short, since it consumes whole spaces of time without our living them or making any use of them much."
So thats what I've been doing. On 7 Feb I entered the oncologist's office to start the laborious procedure of planning a CT scan. The scan was duly undertaken on 15 Feb and on 18 Feb I received glad tidings, I'm still NED!! hallelujah. But why the delay? I know, and have repeatedly been told, "the doctor's busy" and in a fit of pique my retort to this was, "Yes dear, I know the doctor's time is holy but mine is short." I am sure of only one thing, the anger and paradox of that statement escaped the receptionist.
So this much I know, next time I will also wait and I also know waiting, when you wait for news about cancer does not get easier. The waiting spaces of time that I spend "not living" in Mann's words, are piling up and I'm losing great chunks of worthwhile life that I cannot retrieve, ever.

"do not go gentle into that good night"

"but rage rage against the dying of the light".
What ho, the philosophical poet doth entereth!
Dylan Thomas wrote this poem, it is said, for his dying father. Makes me wonder though, should you fight against death or should you go gently? It is after all a "Good night".
Of course my wondering has at its core nasty old cancer, the thing that prompts a perhaps hastier shuffling of the mortal coil that one would have liked or chosen.
My scans are due so thoughts of mortality abound.
Another internet friend also seems to be losing the fight against cancer. Notice how one "fights" cancer but not measles, mumps or a heart attack. My question is this, is the fight worthwhile if you die in the end? It's not a question that I ask lightly or that arises from a sense of scorn at those who DO fight. When someone engages in a fight against cancer, they become awe-inspiring, people who transcend some of the shit that is part of life, their energy humour and determination leaves me breathless. I just want to know, is it worth it?

"death be not proud"

Angelo has passed away. I had followed his blog and what can I say, he fought with every ounce of his being against his kidney cancer, he fought burocracy he fought his own personal demons and now he is dead. This is not a distant event in a strange country, it is as if someone who is on the same leaky lifeboat as I am has been pulled off the boat. So what now? With his death I came to a realisation cancer can kill me as well. So if I'm living with a sure knowledge that I will die sooner rather than later, why does my life not reflect this? Why do I not live as someone with limited time? And please don't give me all that crap about "but we all have to die someday!!!! It carries no weight in my here and now. I'm in a place where I have to rethink who I am, what I want my life to mean and I want to live so that when I die I'm worn out and empty. Is that however possible?

"What's in a name?"

I was baptized Maria Johanna, good solid names indicating my Dutch decendency. I was given the name of my paternal grandmother. This was against the convention. My brother had been named for my paternal grandfather so I should have been named after my maternal grandmother. But, my mother had decided since mostly boys were being born in our generation, I would be called after my grandmother. She was ostensibly a wonderful person, talented and charming and she drowned in a car accident when she was 48 and my father was five years old. This story has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. And it has been a defining story. Whenever my dad acted crazy, we were told of his mother's sad demise. So I know this story really well. But this is not about my grandmother, but rather her name. for some reason she was called "Minnie" and so was I. It's a good name, a name that fits me really well,... so why do people insist on mispronouncing it? I'm MINNIE not MIENIE and even worse, I'm not MIEMIE. I introduce myself quite clearly as mInnie (something on the line of "Liza with a Zee"!) and yet I'm Mienie. Am I pedantic? I think not. I just like my name to be pronounced correctly or is that asking too much?

"There's a strange beastie in the pool, mother"

The pool in our garden is a creepy green colour with random bits of leaves and insects floating about in gay abandon. And that's exactly the problem, I've abandoned the pool. For some reason (I think it's because I'm the only one that swims) the pool is my responsibility. Usually I test and dip and add a dash of this and a drop of that and it stays a reasonable level of clean but what the hell, let the pool just relax into a space of least resistance. Let it turn green and sludgy because in actual fact, who the fuck cares!!!! When summer's here I'll do the work but for now, the pool is a creative space for green beasties of unknown origin

Chicken

Sometimes I feel like a chicken that has learnt a fabulous trick on a high wire and if everything is in perfect synchronised harmony I can manage the trick by focussing my tiny chicken mind but if one teeny tiny thing is off-kilter I slip and fall into a quagmire of chaos from which there is no return

"And Cancer has given you what?"

What have I benefitted/learned/acquired/lost because of cancer?

The "lost" is the easy one, I've lost peace and a piece of mind, I've lost the ease of the question "How are you?", and oh yes, I've lost a kidney and an adrenal gland. The last one reminds me of Oscar Wilde's famous words, "to lose one parent (substitute "kidney") must be regarded as a misfortune, but to lose both looks like carelessness!" So for fear of being careless, I take better care of the remaining one.

I've acquired a great deal of knowledge, I know about my cancer I know how other people deal with it, I even know much more about death. I've acquired wonderful new internet friends and I've aquired a sense of awe at the human spirit and its ability to soldier on despite some terrible odds.

I have learned to trust my own judgement, I've learned that most people are kind, most doctors really try their best. I've learned that sometimes I cope better and sometimes I fall apart and that beating up on myself is useless. I've learned that help often comes in the strangest forms and I've learned that I don't need to be the cleverest person anymore.

And the benefits?

"Is there anything good about having cancer for you?" Rebecca asked these words of her mom, Onesillymama and those words made me think very hard. Just off the bat I think I would say no, but then I realise something, subsequent to my diagnosis I've been having a tough time in some of my personal relationships. Previously I'd have crumbled into a wailing ball of snot but now... I'm much more resilient and weirdly enough, much more selfish. When problems threaten to overwhelm me, I know that if I can't do anything about them, all I can do is take care of myself so that at least I'm standing fairly upright in the chaos.

And by the way, I now know that as a student I actually suck so while I'm at it I'd better enjoy it and the world as we know it won't stop revolving if I don't get my degree this year.

Call me NED

No Evidence of Disease, that's me and thank you God for keeping me relatively sane. As my post cancer time grows longer I see myself increasingly as a kidney cancer survivor, a person LIVING with cancer. Just after the diagnosis I saw myself as someone who'd experienced a slight glitch in the health department and all will be as normal. I've become increasingly aware that cancer is seldom over and it has placed me under a pall that I'm struggling to get over. Please understand, I'm healthy and extremely grateful for there are people who are engaged in a life or death struggle with so much grace it puts me to shame. Yet, for now, I'm struggling with a new and permanent image of myself that I'm loath to accept. "Aye, There's the rub", the accepting bit.

"scanxiety"

I learnt a new word today, scanxiety, that awful time when you wait for your scan results. I get it about 2 weeks before I've even made my appointment. And in that time I deliberately look up horror stories about kidney cancer and I've ordered a new book, "How we die". What the hell for? Why do I scare myself? To all intents and purposes, I've been very lucky, I was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 2007, it hadn't spread. The bum-rap was however that in the urgency to remove my kidney, a second tumour on my renal gland was missed. So that was removed in 2008. I've been clean and clear and no trace of anything has even been hinted at. I've been clean for 2 and a half years... but I'm scared shitless!
On a more interesting note, or rather, a different note, research has identified bloggers as defining the resurgence of narcissism. And why? Because 40% of all bloggers talk about themselves! What the fuck else must I talk about, my neighbour's barking dogs, the people I meet in the gym or must I retell the stories I've heard today? I know I'm not the centre of the universe but I'm the only person on earth that I know inside and out. This is a wierd kind of public private space. I talk here, if someone wants to listen, that's OK. I read other Blogs because I like to hear what people say about themselves in their lives. If I want gossip, I'd follow a gossip column... or is there such a thing as a gossip blog? Don't know, don't care. So tell me about yourself, I'm a really good listener.

Thoughts on being a student

In a wild and wonderful moment of some sort, I decided to extend myself and became a student. It seemed like a very good idea at the time. The empty nest was threatening, we'd moved to a new town and there was a university right close by. So I started. Now I wish to end it! What was I thinking? And it's about the Old Testament and forgiveness and David and Bathsheba and the prophet Nathan and a dead baby. And I've run out of steam

the trails of Kathrin

I wanted to add "tribulations" but that sounds just too much.
So I went for my scan and aside from the seriously gross tasting medicine that tasted no worse or better than expected, i was given a clean bill of health. No nasty cancer lurking about in this beautiful body! This time however I wasn't given that icky iodine or something injection, the one that makes you think you've peed when you haven't and although that's a blessing, it's also some bad news. Kathrin, my remaining kidney (Nerina was removed) (an informative aside, in our family we give names to inanimate objects, my car is Little Em, my daughter's sewing machine is Bettie), is not so well. It has to do with creatinine levels which signifies some sort of lack of work ethic on the part of Kathrin... damn, the bitch is not doing her bit to keep me hale and healthy.

Now I must WATCH my potassium levels. How does one do that? "No, no Potty, mommy's watching you. play nicely with Calcium now, don't crowd everybody out of the game, there's a good chemical". And Potassium is everywhere in particular in Tropical fruit which I love. The next person to see is the nice nephrologist who will tell me to collect ALL my pee over a 24 hour period and then he'll tell me how my kidney really Feels. By the way, its much easier for a man to do the pee reclaiming thing but it takes some ingenuity and a certain amount of agility for a woman to do it and remember, not a drop is to be spilt!

But the brave will soldier on, afterall what else is there to do?

Little bit of this, little bit of that.

For the first time in two years I will be seeing the oncologist eye to eye on Friday 28 Feb. usually I go for my scan and her kindly secretary phones me to tell me I'm OK. it is exceedingly good to hear from an outside source that you are OK otherwise how would you know? so with my stamp of OK I live through the following 5 months and three weeks and in the week before my scan, I plan my funeral. Now I'm to see the doctor. I'm hoping she'll also tell me I'm OK, so OK in fact that I only need another scan in a years time. my funeral plans will fall behind, but I'm prepared to make the sacrifice.
I hate the time before a scan. not even my scars remind me so deeply that I have had or do have cancer as much as the time before a scan
this past Saturday i attended a buddy meeting. the aim of this group is to get cancer survivors to be of support to newly diagnosed people. We attent training sessions and this past Saturday we learnt about stepping alongside someone with end stage disease. The lecture was excellent with clear guidelines served with large dollops of common sense and I knew if push comes to shove i would rather be in Philadelphia than try to help someone on their final journey and yet, i did it for my mother. i suppose it's best not to pre-judge yourself, if you have to, you will rise to the occasion...I hope.
As for Valentine's day, my husband brought home the most beautiful bunch of elegant longstemmed roses and even now, as they unfurl, the house is filled with their scent. I'm lucky, I often get flowers but these roses are quite spectacular. my minimalist arrangement (sticking them randomly into a long vase) also works well. If only I could say the same of my studies but that's another long story.

"February is the cruellest month"

Sorry TS Elliot, but to me April is just fine, it's February that's a bit bothersome. People start to lose the "Happy new year" joys and the grind of the year sets in. In addition February is my one month of sobriety. After indulging in December a little sobriety seems appropriate and I've chosen February for the simple reason its the shortest month of the year! It's such a habit I almost don't notice it and last year, after February I sort of found I'd lost my appetite for gin and tonic, besides it gives me a headache (What a drag it is getting old!) So it's force of habit but "they" do say if you feel the need for a time of sobriety, obviously you've got a problem!! Ah me... tis a problem to be sure! Drink and be damned, desist and you admit to a problem you've never really thought you had, so either way... here's to a restful February.

A day of rest?

Remember those sublime restful sundays that appear on commercials? In slo-mo the mamma's hair blows out, the papa smiles and the children play. Well today wasn't one of those. it was crazy. I woke up with the cell phone ringing and when I re-phoned it was my niece. She's attending the University of Stellenbosch here. She'd fallen and had hurt her foot. So me, being the type to treat a slight cold like the onset of double pneumonia, rush her off to the emergency clinic where I wait and wait and wait. The doctor, a young woman who could seriously be my daughter, treats her and tells me she needs stitches and she'll be on crutches for 9 days so now she's staying with me and tomorrow I will be doing a general commute to the campus. other than that, I wish I had someone like me in my life, ready to drop all to help but since that's not possible I do the best I can and I'm certainly a great aunt and an even better sister. Furthermore my keyboard is so ancient the letters have worn away, making typing even more interesting than before. In a novel they'd call this stream of conscious writing but actually it's a bit UNconscious, I'm just blabbing away into the silence of my house. Actually, come to think of it, this blogging thing sort of escapes me, Yes I know, I'm doing it as well. And I SO enjoy reading Janell's blog, It's sort of out loud musings and a visit into her life written with honesty and humour. I'm reserved, I even edit and re-edit my diary!! Ye gods and little fishies, how paranoid is that. So in a sense this is private in a sort of public way. But it's not the whole truth.
My hamster (she's really MINE, not a child's pet but mine) had a narrow escape. FatCat nearly had her for a late night snack. i was petrified that she'd die. I'm not into animals dying. last year my cat Ayesha died and I'm still in mourning. Crazy but I miss her more than my mother. And that's more or less that.

New YeaR

My new years resolutions are important to me. It's a mini attempt at changing myself bit by bit and so far it seems to work. Last year I decided to eat only one plate and I did, losing 9kg's and changing my lifestyle. Hooray for me!!!! This year, my resolution destined to be successful is, I will not do hard drugs. At the end of the year at least I KNOW I will have had one success. Then My to-do resolution is; I want to drive in such a way that I avoid speed tickets... A more difficult one since I'm a speed freak! The Personal one is; I will be honest with myself, after all who loses out but me if I lie to myself? The let's-finish-this-one is I MUST finish my thesis!!! And strangely the most difficult one is the one I make to spoil myself in some way. Last year I resolved to wear perfume every day and I Failed...tsk, tsk. So far I've not come up with one, but I give myself time till end of Jan to think. If anyone out there has a meaningful suggestion, I'm all ears!

Perspectives

Last night at about this time I spoke to a dear and old friend. he talked about his terrible pain, a pain that doctors could not diagnose. He spoke of how doctors lost interest if their solution failed. He told of the anti-depressants he was on. My last words to him were, "Ek hoop jou pyn gee jou rus vanaand." "I hope your pain gives you respite tonight." This morning my son called. Krikkie Kruger a dear and long-time friend had died of a massive heart attack. He was only 51 years old.
" And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs" (Frost)

Today I mourned, in tears and memories. Death is always always too soon.

Just a thought

It's quite late. The house is quiet except for the cat. She needs a room. my study is out of bounds because the hamster lives here. I think I'm 5 seconds away from giving up on capital letters, I so often mistype them. I'm not e e cummings but I think he had a point, it's just easier and he made it into poetry.
I'm not sure why I write this blog. I hate the schlep of getting here, I often lose my posts I prefer the written word. Tonight I have no answer.

"Server cannot be found"