Dressed to Impress?

Now my chemo is over I can start making plans for my future.

A date that has been in the diary for a long time is my nephew's wedding in just over a months time. His fiance is gorgeous and they make a fabulous couple. I can't wait to celebrate their special day with them.

But what shall I wear? I haven't had time for dress shopping yet. I'm now trying to figure out when I can fit it in.  I have dresses in the wardrobe that would suit the occasion if October starts warm and sunny, but do I need an outfit for a cold snap or a soggy wet day?

I've not yet got to the having nightmares about it stage, after all I only the "giddy aunt" of the groom, I need something elegant yet understated to coordinate with whatever hair colour I decide upon!!!

As these thoughts swirled roiund my head I remembered what Andrew's aunt had worn to our own wedding, some crazy creation that appeared to have been dragged our from the back of the wardrobe.

A first line for a poem popped into my head as I climbed in the shower, always a good place for inspiration to strike.

But the words took an unexpected twist, inspired by a perculiar conversation yesterday and then the new caereer path a dear friend is now following.

So I hope you like my own crazy creation of words today and I hope they paint a colourful image.

At the church she rocked up,

                                in a musty old frock

That had obviously seen better days.

Baby blue, garish green,

                                should never be seen.

It attracted everyone's gaze,

With flowers and birds,

                             a pattern absurd,

A beady eye over one nipple.

Well she caused a commotion,

                                    a drop in the ocean,

While titters spread ripple by ripple

The celebrant started,

                                  prayers for the departed,

Trying not to join in with the laughter.

But a dress of such brightness,

                                          seams pulled in full tightness,

Is enough to shock now and hereafter!

Resonance

My previous post about being lost garnered several positive comments on Facebook and the most commonly used word was “resonance”, how my own story aligned with others.

Everyone’s story is different but there are common threads that bind us together.

Because I’m a bit geeky and like to look things up I did a Google search on resonance and came up with mostly lots of physics stuff. I even discovered what the Dopler Effect was – if you’ve ever watched The Big Bang Theory where Sheldon goes to a fancy dress party as the Dopler Effect you might just find that amusing – at least I did! And it gave me something to discuss with youngest son who has an A level in Physics!

Resonance in humanity and my writing is perhaps less defined, while one friend was drawn to the comparisons of having an empty nest for one, others connected with the lostness, and some have shared a similar chemo journey, by themselves or with others.

I’m currently reading Michelle Obama’s book Becoming. Some of her story resonates with me especially the humble beginnings of a young girl who thought she wasn’t quite enough.

She grew up in a poor neighbourhood in Chicago, in a rented apartment with a brother and very loving parents who provided for her, often going without themselves.

I grew up in a council house, and as I grew older, I was aware that other friends had different family set ups, maybe with more money, more expensive presents, foreign holidays. But my childhood was happy, loving and secure, in the same way Michelle Obama’s early days were.

But then our story deviates, her brother was older and he was the trail blazer going off to college first and in so doing giving Michelle the confidence to follow in his wake.

Suddenly she was enough, she pushed on through, working so hard to reach her academic goals.

I was the older sister who went ahead, never thinking about when I would stop my education. I always pursued that next rung of the ladder, sixth form, Polytechnic – not quite up to university standards. But then I didn’t quite believe I was enough – something was always pulling me back a bit. A little niggle in my ear, that I was the girl from the council house, not cut out for such lofty aspirations. To be honest at the time I never totally understood this brave new world I had stepped into.

And these thoughts can stay with you for years and leave you feeling bewildered for a long time.

Perhaps my journey last week was a reminder of those feelings.

But as the comments rolled in like waves on a beach, I remembered my dreams of writing. Never forgotten but so often pushed aside. I have a voice and what I write resonates and connects people. What a privilege to have such a gift!

I am good enough and my words deserve to be heard, I needed to be reminded of that once more, this seems to be my purpose.

Getting lost the other week was yet another wake up call – stop wasting time – this is your calling. Getting lost gave me the space and time to write, for pleasure but also with purpose.

Who knows where it will ultimately lead but I have to pursue this path. I have to plan and make the time, I have to focus and push away the doubts.

This world has become so fractured it needs people to find the resonance and connect us together again, seeking out the common threads rather than the issues that divide us.

Ok I might not entirely save the world or set it all alight with my sparkling prose but just a few more connections, a bit of resonance and maybe I will make a little corner of the world a better place where we become found not lost!

LOST

I’m not supposed to be here today, sat on my sofa watching TV, reading a few chapters of my book, faffing on my phone.

I’m supposed to be at a quiet day, a kind of retreat with some painting and reflection.

I was really looking forward to it. I rejoiced when I realised that postponing my chemo for a week when my bloods were low meant this day was free.

This morning I got ready and set off, the venue was a quiet country church, only a few miles away. I’d checked on Google maps last night. I like to think I have a good memory when it comes looking at maps and getting the location lodged in my brain. Left turn, right turn, where the local landmarks are.

But this morning driving along the narrow roads, I made 3 U turns believing I’d driven too far on each particular route.

I was lost, not totally or hopelessly lost, I still knew my way back home.

I could have stopped the car, got out my phone and refreshed my memory of exactly where to go, but instead I did turn round and come home.

Having chemo affects your brain, I can’t remember things like I used to.

Having chemo affects your sleep, your taste buds, your general wellbeing.

Having chemo affects your whole social life, one minute you are planning something you know you will enjoy and the next you are cancelling your plans and retreating to that safe space on the sofa.

My chemo should be finished this time next week, bloods permitting and barring any unforeseen circumstances.

It will be time to get my life back on track, this wonderful life I planned for once youngest son had half flown the nest and gone to uni.

But just like driving on narrow country roads looking for something that I’m sure should stand out proud I fear I may still be a little lost and what I’m looking for will remain obscured.

When I used to regularly go walking with a group of friends, there was always delight in spotting an arrow pointing the direction we should go in. Especially on a long hot excursion when we were longing for a scone and a cuppa!

Yes there were times we would explore and take the adventurous route for the joy of it, we’d laugh as we navigated our way over fallen trees, under branches, down steep slopes and precariously crossing streams on slippery rocks. It was all part of the fun.

Chemo is not fun, being lost is not fun, losing part of yourself is not fun.

I feel like I’ve been living in a haze, especially these last few weeks when the symptoms of chemo have cumulated transforming me into a slob moulded to fit the sofa!

OK. I’m being a bit harsh on myself there. I have actually achieved a great amount with moving only weeks before a major op. My new house is basically in order, all bar the paperwork but when was I ever on top of that since Andrew died?

Ah now that’s another loss, excuse me while we detour up a different path.

I’m an empty nester with a nest for one, I want to explore, to travel and while being on my own doesn’t bother me, I do quite like my own company. Sometimes it would be nice to share experiences with someone, to have memories to look back on together when we grow old!

Anyway back to the proper path, where was I? I’m not sure where I should be going….

Where is the signpost, which way do I take at the crossroads?

It’s alright taking one day at a time and doing all you can manage in a day, that’s been my regime for a while now, I no longer plan like I used to.

But not planning means not dreaming and my dreams have got dusty, to be honest some of them have got lost in the process of dealing with cancer and having treatment.

I know that surgery was successful in removing everything and the chemo is just a mop up, of the harshest kind, but until I see the oncologist and get the results of my latest scan you can only hope and pray.

When you go for a CT scan, in the machine a voice tells you to “breathe in and hold your breath”.

I’m just waiting for the line “and breathe”.

Then I shall consult my maps, dust off my dreams and plan something I can actually achieve – I don’t think it will be finishing the paperwork!

Maybe I’m not really lost. Perhaps I should see this as a detour and this new path will actually lead me to my destination, only time will tell…