So today was going to be a challenge and I really had no intention of blogging. I just wanted to wrap myself up in the cacooned comfort of my duvet and
Oh who am I kidding. Yes, I wanted to feel sorry for myself. But not just myself.
On this journey I have met some lovely people: nice people: kind people: people who just seem so special and wonderful, and as you lay in the bed next to their bed on the hospital ward, you realise their journey is just a little bit harder than yours is at this particular moment in time.
You get to know them and you find out that they do not have a positive outcome being offered to them, and then you find out they have children much younger than yours and so, as you spend time waiting for test results and the next hospital meal, you do what you can to cheer them up.
You offer support from the heart, you bolster them and you hold their hand as they cry and you allow them to talk about how hard it is for them to face not being able to see their children grow up. You offer them your silence within which they can share their fears because you yourself have had to face these emotions on a personal level and as they talk, they know that the words which will flow from you, when they have finished and when it is time to talk again, will be the right words. Because when you are in this situation you know only too well what words will work for you and have worked for you and what platitudes will do no good at all.
And, when you have finished with the tissues, you know exactly how to make each other laugh again. And how to bring back the strength needed for the next round of Drs opinions and outcomes and statistics.
And then, when you come home, no matter how glad you are that you still have an optimistic outlook and that things are going well treatment wise, and joy of joy, you are going home again, where you are safe and comfortable and where life is normal for you, no matter all these things, you find that you bring a little of the sadness back with you. It sits within your heart and it says yes, you are doing ok: but you have spent three days with a mother whose family is going to be torn apart and though you are doing ok, there is nothing, nothing on this Earth that you can do to make it better for them.
It touches you and it remains and it makes you want to huddle in your duvet and act as if it were 17 degrees below freezing outside and pouring with rain: to hibernate and not think of the bad things going on in people's lives and of lovely, caring, dedicated mothers who will not get to see their children go to high school or get their first boyfriend or be there to nag them to do their homework.
It breaks your heart.
And that is how I was this morning. Reflective and wishing I could put the world right according to how I think it should be and having to get over the effects of major surgery and only half a thyroid gland which means it has to work a little bit harder to do what it needs to do.
But don't let this post bring you down: this is not a post of sorrow because when you are on this journey you learn to live in the present. We live today because no matter what our ills, that is really all anyone can do.
And fortunately, just as I was wanting to make it better for the people I have met, someone out there wanted me to feel better.
And we do that: not just ladies who have had their parties crashed by uninvited cancer cells, but ladies who blog: especially ladies who blog about crafts. We try to make life better for those who have need of our support because our blogs aren't just blogs: they are social network sites where friendships are formed and bound together in the threads of a shared interest and genuine pleasure in the achievements of others just as our quilts are bound together with thread and bias.
So imagine my heart-felt joy when I recieved a parcel from Maggee completely out of the blue. Totally unexpected and so personal to my own journey.
I admit it. I cried. And no matter that chemo brain is slowly shrinking away giving me the use of language again: no words could ever really relay how that parcel made me feel. How it made me throw off the duvet and go out and about and do what needs to be done. How it stopped me from cancelling a visit from well-meaning friends because I wanted to hide away: how it stopped me wasting time which has now been lived fully.
Maggee, thank you.
So what was in this parcel which meant so much to me? Well nothing: the fact it was sent at all was enough. But Maggee has upped even the gratitude I feel for her thinking of me through the choice of gifts she put into the parcel so much so I cried. And I rarely cry.
Normally I love Christmas but since last Christmas when I had chemotherapy and shingles, I have been dreading the one coming. Last christmas was so awful I felt it had been tainted forever. So, amazingly, I received christmas charts... Four of them in fact and I am pleased to say I am no longer dreading Christmas: I am actually so busy trying to work out which one I will stitch first. Maggee has given me back my Christmas Spirit.
And she sent me the most wonderful pair of Pink Ribbon scissors (Breast Cancer logo) which were cute enough but then, amongst a set of the most beautiful notecards, there was a pen.
A Perfect Pen.
A Perfectly Pink Pen which knew exactly what to say.
On the first click it said 'Hope, Faith, Love and Courage Unite us.
And this is what I feel whenever I find myself talking to the lady in the next bed: the stories are always slightly different but we are indeed united in Hope, Faith, Courage and Love.
On the second click it says ' FIGHT LIKE A GIRL'. I laughed and threw off my duvet.
On the third click it says ' Time for the Cure is NOW'...and indeed it is and thankfully the scientific world is making breakthroughs all the time.
And finally, on the fourth click it says 'You are not alone'.
And Maggee's wonderful RAK reminded me of this as do all your lovely comments and words of support. And it is mutual. None of us are alone as long as we let others in.
Thank you Maggee for thinking of me.
Which brings me to a slightly different topic. In September my blog will have been around for four years!! Wow, a lot has happened in those four years. Even, I believe, some stitching lol. So there has to be some kind of celebration doesn't there? I am going to curl in my duvet now, genuinly to rest, and ponder what I can offer this wonderful blogging community of ours, without which I would not have had a blog for four years xx
And for all who read and leave comments: thank you xx