Friday, August 27, 2010
Happy Daffodil Day
Today (Friday 27 August 2010) is Daffodil Day. So this morning I shall send my husband down into little old Johnsonville to give money to a collector, and to get me a beautiful bunch of daffodils to take to Hamilton this afternoon. Elliott and I are flying up with Emily, my Mum and step Dad to spend the weekend with my brother and his family which I'm really looking forward to. It seems oddly appropriate that my Daffodil Day is going to be spent returning home and being with all of my family, and my dearest and closest friends who will be around for the afternoon (that's you Polly and Lisa!! x). It wasn't planned this way - well, not by me anyway. Maybe there were other forces at work here - and if that's the case then I'm grateful to them for it. Spending this day - which I confess is a little emotional for me - with everyone who I love more than life itself will be very special to me. But what will be even more special is when the time comes that Daffodil Day is no longer needed. That this disease is no longer a thief that steals our loved ones away from us without justice or permission. And that a beautiful yellow daffodil becomes a symbol of the fight against Cancer that we won. They also make pretty cupcake decorations......
Monday, August 16, 2010
Please RSVP in the affirmative.......
Forgive me for the absence of an update over these past 6 weeks (wow - where has that time gone??!!). It hasn't been due to having nothing to say - but rather the exact opposite in that I have so much to say, and have been desperately searching for the right words to say it all. This blog is by no means the answer to that search - and unfortunately doesn't contain the words of wisdom that will alleviate the constant ticking of my brain nor will it relieve my insomnia. But here goes anyway.
Yesterday morning (Sunday) at approximately 2.30am I was in some pain, which to be brutally honest with you, is becoming more frequent. I took some drugs (again, becoming more frequent - but I'm okay with that part!) and sat at the breakfast bar having a cup of tea, pondering my existence as one does while morphine works its way through your system. For those of you who know me, which I'm assuming given that you're reading this means you do, you'll know that I don't do pity. I don't pity myself, and I sure as hell don't do pity from others. So I found myself in the odd situation of not necessarily feeling what I would describe as pity for me - but rather envy for the simple, carefree, existence of someone else - even for just a day. A day of no discomfort or pain, no drugs, no conversations about hospices or funerals, and where a good nights sleep meant more than 2 hours in one go. A day where I could take a break from the increasingly rough road that my journey is becoming. A day where I could walk in someone else's shoes - and forget the swelling in my ankles that is so bad that I can't fit my own.
The daylight hours of Sunday brought with it the company and contact of some of my nearest and dearest friends,and was the perfect way to spend a day. Over the course of this day, I was witness to the journeys of these friends - and the shoes that they walk in. And it suddenly, and rather sharply, put into perspective my earlier assumption that everyone has it easier than me - and I was humbled. The journeys of my friends are no less fraught that mine, and their shoes no more comfortable or easy to walk in. I ended my day filled with love and admiration for the strength and dignity that these woman display as walk their paths facing challenges such as marriage difficulties, the search for someone to share life with, pregnancy issues, and being a mother about to lose her only daughter.
I also ended my day with an invitation that I would like to extend to you. Rather than assume that spending time in someone else's shoes would offer a respite to my journey, I invite you to come over to my house, kick off your shoes and join me on the couch with a cup of tea and a cupcake and watch the world go by, even for an hour, .......shoeless - and we take a break from our journeys together. I'll make the tea - you bring the cupcakes.
Yesterday morning (Sunday) at approximately 2.30am I was in some pain, which to be brutally honest with you, is becoming more frequent. I took some drugs (again, becoming more frequent - but I'm okay with that part!) and sat at the breakfast bar having a cup of tea, pondering my existence as one does while morphine works its way through your system. For those of you who know me, which I'm assuming given that you're reading this means you do, you'll know that I don't do pity. I don't pity myself, and I sure as hell don't do pity from others. So I found myself in the odd situation of not necessarily feeling what I would describe as pity for me - but rather envy for the simple, carefree, existence of someone else - even for just a day. A day of no discomfort or pain, no drugs, no conversations about hospices or funerals, and where a good nights sleep meant more than 2 hours in one go. A day where I could take a break from the increasingly rough road that my journey is becoming. A day where I could walk in someone else's shoes - and forget the swelling in my ankles that is so bad that I can't fit my own.
The daylight hours of Sunday brought with it the company and contact of some of my nearest and dearest friends,and was the perfect way to spend a day. Over the course of this day, I was witness to the journeys of these friends - and the shoes that they walk in. And it suddenly, and rather sharply, put into perspective my earlier assumption that everyone has it easier than me - and I was humbled. The journeys of my friends are no less fraught that mine, and their shoes no more comfortable or easy to walk in. I ended my day filled with love and admiration for the strength and dignity that these woman display as walk their paths facing challenges such as marriage difficulties, the search for someone to share life with, pregnancy issues, and being a mother about to lose her only daughter.
I also ended my day with an invitation that I would like to extend to you. Rather than assume that spending time in someone else's shoes would offer a respite to my journey, I invite you to come over to my house, kick off your shoes and join me on the couch with a cup of tea and a cupcake and watch the world go by, even for an hour, .......shoeless - and we take a break from our journeys together. I'll make the tea - you bring the cupcakes.
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