Not before Christmas, in fact.
I was really busy: Christmas is always flat out tourism time and it only got a little bit quieter last week. This week our school kids have gone back after their long summer break and that’s probably part of it.
There’s been good and bad stuff happening. Wayne’s mother died and that was really sad for him, although expected. It is, after all, why he went back to Canada last year for three weeks to see her, while she was well enough. He didn’t go back for the funeral because there wasn’t one: she wanted to be interred and everything is deep frozen. Instead they had a memorial service.
My dad’s oncologist said his operation went really well. But now apparently there is a problem with one of his kidneys: it may or may not be related and they are going to remove it. My poor father has gone through so much lately and he never complains. Neither does my stepmama. I am now making it a point to spend much more time with them, conscious of the fact that time is not on our side.
We (me, my girls and the husband) had a wonderful time for six nights on Rottnest, a gorgeous little holiday island off the coast.
We rode around on bicycles (no vehicles apart from those owned by the island administration are permitted), swam, fished and just generally enjoyed ourselves. It was a lovely winding down from the stresses of the time before Christmas.
The horrible hole in my breast has at last healed. Daily packing and irrigation definitely made the difference. I gave up on going to the doctor to have the nurses check it over as it was simply too busy to ever manage to get an appointment and I felt that I could do it okay myself. The hardest part was the skin peeling off from my allegies to the adhesive tape that held the dressings on. Once we went on holiday, I swam so much that I used to swim a little out to sea and then pull down the top of my swimsuit and flush it out with the lovely clean seawater and it seemed to heal amazingly fast after that.
I am still very, very sore and the poor boob looks deformed. Sadly, it seems that the holes of my piercings have healed up in the middle and I am too much of a coward to have them pierced again – they hurt so much the first time and it is supposed to be worse through scar tissue. Also, I got so much disapproval from medical staff every time the existence of the piercings was disclosed and I was always having to take them out for surgeries and biopsies and MRIs etc. It makes me sad, though, because they were very much a part of me for five years and certainly added a sensual aspect to my life.
I am just starting to run again, very slowly, with lots of ouching and sometimes, with wearing two support bras. We will see if it gets possible to run consistently again. Right now I can’t imagine it because I still feel so very very bruised and sore and I have red marks where I imagine calipers or some sort of clamping equipment held during the surgery. I have to have six monthly checkups and tests but still I am aware that I have been very, very fortunate and it was caught as early as it was possible to catch. “Almost pre-cancerous, really,” said my doctor breezily, and I have to feel a bit of a fraud, because what they thought was cancer on the ultrasound turned out to be scar tissue and this teeny weeny 3mm tumour turned up when they took the scar tissue out. A lucky fraud, but still.
I have to say that Wayne has really made a huge effort and embraced the whole healthy heart and living lifestyle. He has lost 11.5 kilos since his heart attack, exercises regularly and never grumbles about the sheer quantity of vegetables I make him eat. It is ironic that I haven’t lost any weight in spite of eating exactly the same diet and the same quantities but then I really never do lose weight very easily. I am on a migraine preventative drug called Topamax, which is actually used as a weight loss drug in obese people and I haven’t lost any weight on it at all. At least, I don’t think I have. I don’t own a scale and I am happy with my own body image, fat or thin: truly.
We have restructured our finances to take into account the possibility I may be an early widow. It sounds coldblooded but there are some debts that I, as the surviving relative, would have to pay. Very short term it is causing me angst because I hate dealing with banks but it was my suggestion and medium long term it is much the best thing for both of us. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, is my motto this year.
So this year in front of us I think will be hard but we should still be grateful for what we have. That is life – some ups, some downs and none of us deserve more or less than anybody else.
Roll on 2013… can you believe it is February already?!