Happy New Year

I used to be able to just soak up information like a sponge soaks up water, so much so that my eldest brother (who was bloody great) used to put me well and truly in my place, as only an older brother can, and call me “a wealth of useless information”. The sod was probably right, too.

He wouldn’t call me that now though. Because of the bloody cancer and the treatments I’ve had, and the ones I’m currently on, I have trouble soaking up even basic stuff. Sometimes I’m not sure what day it is.

Being like this makes it very difficult to get myself organised and to get my head round things, things that I’d have taken in my stride not so long ago.

Fortunately I still keep in touch with the woman who was my sooper-dooper Macmillan Nurse for the first 3½ years. I wish she still was but she moved on to a less stressful job and I can’t say I blame her. She suggested I ask to be referred to the local Community Palliative Care Team. I didn’t know there was such a thing, but it turns out there’s one in every district. I was a bit reluctant to take the advice to be referred because it’s one more admission that I’m not going to come out of this alive even if (fingers crossed) I might not be going anytime soon. But I did, and first impressions make me glad I did, because it seems I now have someone who’s my advocate and is doing all the chasing around that I’m no longer up to doing, asking all the questions I can no longer think to ask and they know a lot more about what’s out there to make my life a bit easier, and I really need that with the way things are right now.

What they can’t do, though, is to cope with things like New Year’s Eve for me.

I’ve had some fantastic New Year’s Eves over the years, but this year wasn’t one of them. I’ve got used to not going out all night and rolling home in the early hours; that was fun when I was younger but it wasn’t that I was missing. In fact I’m quite happy not to be out all night anymore. It was that in years gone by I always felt that the New Year could only be positive, bringing with it fresh hope and new experiences and plans for things to do in the coming year. This year I went into New Year on a low and I must admit that as the clock struck 12 I wondered if I’d still be here this time next year.

Nevertheless I am aiming to be and I hope that the way I’m feeling right now, both physically and psychologically, is just the nasty after effects of the radiotherapy that I finished a few days before Christmas, combined with the tear inducing hormone therapy that I’m on. Jeez, how do women cope with all this crap their entire lives?

Happy, Healthy 2019 for all of us!