#Stoma66

Another new challenge, well you know me, I love to START new things, its finishing them that is tricky.

This time I am asking for your help to keep me focused at the task at hand by sponsoring me.

(I know there are many worthy causes and Just Giving pages out there to support so please don’t feel under any obligation. Raising money is good but so is raising awareness.)

I’ve signed up to #Stoma66 “66 days to reach 66,000km and a BETTER YOU”.

Thankfully I don’t have to walk, swim, cycle or even drive that distance all by myself. It is a joint effort as Colostomy UK’s big push to help ostomates live a healthier lifestyle and raise funds for the charity.

Colostomy UK is the national charity offering support and advice to people with stomas. Research shows that it takes on average 66 days to form a lasting habit, so if people are active for 66 days they are more likely to carry on afterwards.

The first 500 participants to sign up got a free Tshirt and pedometer – FREE STUFF – how could I refuse that?

Now there is as ever a twist in the tale… there have been some delays in getting the packs out, so I sent a polite email to enquire where my pack was….

An apology was sent and then my pack arrived in the post about an hour later! See it pays to complain – politely of course!

Although the challenge officially finishes on November 20^th my 66 days will be up in the first week of December or thereabouts. A year after having my life saving surgery and getting my stoma. What perfect timing, I explained in my email to say thanks my pack has arrived.

“That would make a great story for our website, can you answer a few questions?”

Never one to turn down an opportunity to tell my tale I promptly replied. Obviously, my answers were in essay format, but they have been neatly edited (thanks Oliver). You can read my story here - http://www.colostomyuk.org/sarahs-stoma-66-story/ 

This challenge has taken on a life of its own and I really have to complete it now or I will let myself and everyone  else down – oh the pressure! Hehehe – it’s really the push I need. As I said I am not good at finishing things.

Once my pack arrived I immediately pulled on my walking boots, clipped the pedometer to the waistband of my leggings and strode out into the sunshine to re-explore old ground. Memories came flooding back of school cross country runs, tracking with the Brownies and Guides - using twigs to make arrows and a sponsored walk once undertaken.

I managed just over 4 kilometres and was very proud of myself. Tuesday, I did a Zumba gold class – the pedometer measured that as three and a half kilometres. I then had two quieter days, but you have to build these things up slowly and I don’t want to overdo it! Me and my sofa are still best buddies. Today the distance didn’t add up but I did some gardening in the rain, so that’s still getting exercise.

Besides I have not set a measurable goal, I just need to be in some way accountable to push myself further and commit to getting out and being more active. Perhaps if week on week I do a little more, then if I get my coloured pencils out maybe I could draw a graph and convince myself I really have achieved something.

I’ve always resisted the Fit Bit revolution; I don’t want to be a slave to a mini computer chip on my wrist dictating my steps… but a pedometer…. well that’s a little different, a bit old school in the grand scheme of things.

I guess my main aim is to be able to keep up with my old walking buddies next time I visit. The 3 mile walk we did last time I met them was a killer! I am now so unfit, not that I have ever been in the super fit Olympian category.

Hopefully in 66 days, give or take, I might be back to the fitness level I was at before major surgery, and a year on that will be something special to celebrate.

Scarily Honest or Honestly Scary?

Well I've been trying this online dating malarkey for just over a week.

The online aspect of it is great, it's quite compelling scrolling on my phone and seeing just who is out there. I'm convinced I've found the right dating site to suit my needs.

As for the actual dating side of things.... well the nearest I've got to a date this week was a date biscuit! A bit like a fig roll, not terribly satisfying and won't go there again!

I've been pro-active, life's too short to sit here waiting, I've "liked" a few profiles.

No 1. Likes visiting the Edinburgh Fringe - well as a lover of the arts  I'm quite partial myself to a bit of drama, comedy and stand up. But the tragedy is he never responded to my wave....

Undeterred I moved on to ...

No 2. Can't remember much about his likes and dislikes but there was a gorgeous photo of him with smouldering eyes I could gaze at for hours. Set my heart a flutter but the feeling wasn't reciprocated.

Pushing the geographically boundaries further I found ....

No 3. Staunch Remainer and lover of Victoria sponge cake.  Maybe I could bake him a cake iced in blue with stars around the edge? A bit too quirky???

Still no reply - not a sausage!!!

Maybe my own profile is too HONEST. I did make it clear at the start that I was a widow and cancer survivor, but I did draw a line and stopped before explaining what an ileostomy bag was!

I think being a widow and cancer survivor shows real strength of character. But perhaps it's just a little too daunting for someone else to contemplate. Too much baggage?

Or perhaps the photos showing off my various shades of hair colour makes me look SCARY, too challenging?

Where is the man prepared and brave enough to take me on?

I was always told you have to kiss several frogs along the path to ever lasting love, I'm all puckered up but if the wind changes direction my face will stay in this distorted fashion. As if I wasn't scary enough! HAHAHA

As you can see I've not lost my weird sense of humour and if my adventures make you, my readers, giggle then quite honestly I'm happy with my lot and in no way scared of a solo future....

.....just wishing, hoping, praying and daydreaming that things might one day change!

Love is in the air...

I’m off to a wedding this weekend, a friend on facebook has just announced she is engaged and only last week my parents celebrated their fifty third wedding anniversary.

So, with hands on hips and stamping my feet, I want to know when’s it my turn for a little romance in my life?

Last week I was at a new church course looking at our journey’s – mines been an interesting one, up a few ladders, down far too many snakes and generally going in circles and ending up exactly where I started, at least geographically.

Everyone on the course was being really honest and most admitted their own “spiritual” journey with God perhaps wasn’t so spiritual, we all fall far short and generally struggle.

But more importantly for me was when we got into smaller groups and got more personal. I had a chance to talk about Andrew and remembered why I’d fallen in love with him in the first place.

It's all too easy, when being the positive "glass half full" girl that I usually am, to dismiss the past or at the very least remember all the bad bits. My new life needs to be more hopeful than the old, so let’s colour the past in muted shades of blue and grey.

Andrew suffered with depression and was often hard work to live with, sometimes I concentrate on those aspects of his character because it is then so much easier to live without him.

I no longer have to walk on egg shells, I can leave things in a mess without comment, I can dye my hair all colours of the rainbow and squirt perfume to my heart’s content!

But I miss that person to snuggle next to on the sofa (especially now youngest is back at uni. He’s the best TV companion, in a lot of ways even better company that his dad in that respect).

I miss someone special to hold hands with and share adventures, even the little ones walking around the garden. I miss having quirky “in” jokes and being made to feel like the most important person in the room.

It was always my plan, once I’d moved, to try online dating. Hmmmm – I did try it a few years back but had very little success, actually I was probably only on it for about a week then asked for my money back! Hahaha.

The cancer diagnosis and chemo put the breaks on things but now I am all clear I have a new lease of life. And a new attitude too.

Life really is short, I am only 51, reasonably attractive and honestly I think I’m a good catch, even with the scars and baggage! I am a survivor.

I’m cautiously excited at the prospect of meeting new people, I might actually go on a date this time and not run away and cancel my subscription.

I’ve paid up for 3 months – well there was this nice-looking man who seemed perfect and if I wanted to find out more, I needed to join properly and part with my cash.

I sent a “like” to show I was interested – he’s been online since but never responded. I “liked” someone else’s profile and so far no response from him either…. Oh well I’ve waited this long, I might as well hang around for the “right” one to come along! Its their loss!!!!

One of the things I hated about online dating last time was how judgemental you become of profile pictures; you can so easily dismiss someone because their nose is too big without really finding out what their personality is like.

This time I have a new plan.

I’ve remembered what made me fall in love with Andrew, he wasn’t the handsomest of men, his hair was slightly scruffy and his dress sense was actually quite shambolic but he had really kind eyes, a killer smile and wicked sense of humour.

So let’s start with those qualities and see where it takes me….

Love is in the air at the moment – let’s just hope its infectious and I catch a jolly good dose of it!

1st September

I can’t believe it’s already September! Where has this year gone?

Oh yes it was stolen from me by cancer and chemo, all my hopes and dreams, all I planned to do when I moved, new adventures, possibilities, travel and maybe even some romance!

Don’t I deserve it?

Well life is never fair and I am far too much of an optimist to be bitter.

There were times when I wasn’t so positive, after my initial diagnosis I pondered how my life could be curtailed early and all I would miss and leave behind. Especially when I was feeling so ill I almost wished it was the end.

But since chemo started, with each one ticked off my hope began to expand like air filling a balloon, breath by breath.

And now chemo is over, there’s no picc line sticking out of my arm – yipppeee!

Then last week I saw the consultant and he had my scan results – everything clear, I’m cancer free!

To be honest it was a bit of an anti-climax, it was after all what I expected. The operation got rid of all the nasty stuff, chemo was belt and braces.

So now September arrives full of new possibilities and beginnings as it always has. New things are always stirring as the autumn leaves start swirling on the wind, kids prepare to go back to school, or in my case now back to uni and this is finally MY time! 

A time of change as you can see in the garden with some plants wilting and dying in the heat of summerdays

Meanwhile my clematis has new flowers, 

the fuscia is still adorned with jewel coloured flowers and I've spotted new buds on the geranium.

It might feel like some time has been taken from me but perhaps there is a purpose, I’ve had time to consider what sort of volunteering I want to be involved in now I've moved, to really consider my options rather than rushing headlong into something.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am called to write, I need to make time for that, it has to be a priority. No more excuses and hopefully not too many distractions.

I want to travel and I would like some romance…. But I’ll consider that another day.

God has promised “I, the Lord your God will make up for the losses caused by those swarms and swarms of locusts.” Joel 2:25

I translate that as the first swarm taking my husband and second swarm part of my bowel!

I found this prayer  today from Mandy Hale, who goes by the name of The single Woman on Facebook. I guess mostly she is thinking about new relationships beginning and ditching the old ones but I think it can apply to so much more.

I'm making this my September prayer... as I positively step forward into a cancer and chemo free life. 

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…