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.