The flight of fantasy continues and we bought a gorgeous MG for James. He and I went on a wild and glorious adventure together with the soft top down, the music blaring and all amounts of crazy whooping and delirious happy behaviour. What a thrill. I was marginally concerned for him that his freinds might catch him with an old babe in his car, but happily noone we knew saw us.
The packing and moving out of the CT house had nightmarish potential, but it went smoothly and with much good humour with the help of Nicola, James and Nicola and Anna Bashall from the UK. The latter sorted out all the keys and Nicola was seen up to her eyeballs in Handy Andy and Vim, doing the big clean up. I was proud to hand over our special home in good condition. Having anticipated great sadness, we were suprised to feel as if we were handing the baton on to another good team and know the O"Mahoneys will be able to enjoy the house as we have.
I had a very special evening at the school where I worked, Wetpups. It was the reunion of boys who left 5 years ago and are now in matric. What a thrill to see the boys, who were my very first grade 3 class, all beautifully grown up and to meet up with my dear colleagues.
Cape Town was so beautiful and it was hard to leave, but I am so grateful to have had the opportunity of living there for 10 years and for the wonderful friends we made over those pivotal years of child rearing.
We've just come back from a lovely weekend with the Leiths at a game farm in the Waterberg. The bush was magnificent, and its striking distance from Joburg a pleasure.
Nic has been enjoying doing the training in Mpumalanga, James is fully engaged with 21st and taking people on joyrides in his MG with the odd tutorial thrown in, Ali was great company in the bush, suprising us with all kinds of knowledge and good humour.
Big Nicola and Anna are with us until tomorrow. I'm not sure how we would have managed the move without them.
Chemo looms. If the white bloods are recovered enough, we will go ahead with treatments tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday. Hmm.. the devil we know.
We all need to normalise now we are over the initial shock. The children and Tim feel exhausted by what they call "cancer eyes" i.e. people who view them with intense pity and it feels as if we are redefined by cancer and some see us in terms of the illness, rather than who we normally are. They have been accosted by demands for information, which at times, have been inappropiate and insensitive. "What's the prognosis? How do you feel about this all?" We all appeal for normality, business as usual, and communication which is not dominated by the cancer.
Hi Margi, I know exactly how you feel about cancer eyes. When I started treatment I felt somehow as if I was another species. There was a separating line drawn between me and "them". Like there was this label on my forehead - "dying of cancer". It helped me understand the reluctance to disclose HIV status. And of course people meant well when they asked very seriously how I was and then checked by saying "Are you sure?" I enjoyed telling them that apart from the fact that I was dying of cancer I was fine! I also enjoyed sharing Woody Allen's quip: "It's not that I am afraid to die (and I wasn't), I just don't want to be there when it happens". Not everyone coped with that kind of humour.
ReplyDeleteBut it wasn't an easy time, and I wish you great strength over the next three days of chemo and the days following.
Much love, Alistair C.