Race for life.

So it was the hottest day of the year so far.... but WE DID IT. The girls from the the Book and Pudding Group Raced for Life... though it really was too hot to do the sprint we intended..... (no, really...)

Ali, Ali, Wils and JJ/DD (not in photo) made it round the 5km course in about 70 minutes (with essential pauses on the hill to Parliament Buildings).

And we got medals to prove it!

For our American friends - Parliament Building, Stormont - it's where our elected representatives run Northern Ireland from.... I'll leave the political comments on how well they do it for another time!

The grounds are beautiful - woodland, open lawns and lovely walks... it's just on the outskirts of Belfast.

I'm not sure how many people took part but we saw walker number 5248 along the way. It was really well organised and there was a fantastic atmosphere.

Best of all was the finish line! Dad came to cheer us on as did Ali's husband and son.

The fundraising target was a whopping 389 thousand pounds (over 630 thousand dollars) but I've no idea how much money has been raised overall. I know I'm well over target so far, and to everyone who dug deep into their pockets and wallets, THANK YOU. We can all feel proud to have done something very good today. (If you haven't chipped in yet and would still like to.... it's not too late - I'll leave the "sponsor me" button on the blog for a few more days.)

I'll let the snaps speak for themselves.

Allow me to introduce.... Jennifer

I have a friend called Jennifer.

We've been friends since we were eight, when she'd come to Northern Ireland from the USA to stay with her grandmother who lived in the sweetest little village in Co Down.

It was home to many families over the summer months when I was a child. The moment school finished in June, the car was packed and we drove to the caravan park to be surrounded by cousins, aunts, uncles, grand- parents and friends until the end of August.

It was bliss.


On good days, the children escaped after breakfast and only returned throughout the day for food. When the light faded at night, we were exhausted and we headed "home" to the "van". The gas mantles hissed, the curtains were drawn, and the air full of the smell of hot buttered toast and tea which kept body and soul together until breakfast.

There were so many friends. We spent our days on the beach poking around rockpools, jumping into the sea at the harbour, cycling, wandering up the coastal path to Orlock to see the seals and talking, talking, talking.

On colder damp days, all the cousins piled into one caravan for a marathon game of Monopoly that kept us going till evening.

Now, the caravans have gone, and there are houses. I moved here in 1995 and my parents followed in 2002 and we're still surrounded by old friends. I've written about it before here.

Anyway, back to Jennifer. We met at CSSM - the Children's Mission... maybe in 1970 or '71? To this day I can never remember if the middle bit of CSSM meant Sea Side or Special Service. For two weeks every summer, the CSSM team moved in, the guitars were tuned, the sandcastle pulpit built and decorated every morning with shells and flowers and we got down to some serious chorus singing and Bible teaching.


The year we both turned 21, Jennifer joined us to be part of the team in Derry and we had a blast. My friends HJ & M who are now married and live close by, were also on that team, and HJ hosted Jennifer's 21st birthday party that August. We've all been friends a long time.

As soon as they heard I was to have surgery for breast cancer at the end of December 07, Jennifer and her family booked flights and came to visit. We had a great new year's eve in HJ and M's house with lots of friends. It was a tough year, made easier by her phonecalls, bandana mailings and prayers.

She isn't just an old friend from America, she's my sister minus the DNA and now she's on the same journey. This time, it's me booking the flights....

Jennifer, a walk on the beach, a mug of tea and a good giggle are called for... but they'll have to wait a while. It was balmy this evening - the hottest day of the year so far, and after a late tea, Robo, Rosebud and I hit the beach for a dander - we recorded this about 9pm. (What were you doing at 4pm girl??!!)

We can't send you the smell of the sea, but this is the next best thing sis, so put your feet up and visit for a moment or two.... and enjoy!



















Now to the rest of you.... we need to stuff this sodding disease once and for all.

Tomorrow is the "Race for life" and there's still time to put your hand in your pocket - the button for sponsoring me is on the top right hand side of this page..... go on, go on, go on. I might even let you walk on the beach next time you come by!


I'm doing this for mum and dad, and Anne and Eileen and Clemmie and Eric and Carrie and Jacky..... and now for Jennifer. Oh yes, and me too. Go on.....!

Ah yes.... sponsorship

Ali is putting me to shame. So since I'm the only one in the Book and Pudding Club team (to the best of my knowledge!) that has acutally had boob rot (cancer) I guess I need to make more of an effort to fund raise! Ta to everyone in the lovely world of work who's chipped in. Anyone else who'd like to.... it's such a good cause.

(Just as long as we clarify that when it comes to the "race" bit, think more "tortoise" than "hare". And as for the book and pud club gals... the pudding bit of our evenings sometimes (?!) gets more attention than what we've been reading... hence the previous sentence. Now, as Ali would say, we're clear when it comes to the Trades Description Act.)

NOW!!!! See the big blue rectangle to the side ... the one with the pink and white bit that says "RACE FOR LIFE - SPONSOR ME"? Well, all you need is a bit of plastic and the will to do something to share a few pounds/dollars/yen/shekels/euro whatever. All gladly received! Honestly! And thanks.

Success at last!

So the tidying got sorted-ish and the daily trips to get nuked at radiotherapy started all over again on Monday. I've no idea why it's so tiring, but it is - I'm pretty flaked.

But hey! Success! I finished a book. A whole book. Ok, I've done it before, even post chemo, but this was a Book Circle book and of late, I just never seem to get to the end of book club books. And here's the joke. I was the only person in the group who actually finished "Labyrinth" by Kate Moss. (Understandable really - reads like it was written by a committee - the medieval French bits were ok, but the rest was tedious.)

Best of all perhaps was that Ali brought her bodhran and we had a session - qwere craic! (For non-locals - that's a little singsong with various instruments including Ali's Irish drum and it was all rather jolly good fun!)

Maybe the Book Circle and Pudding Club should be renamed the Music and Pudding Club?!

chemo and curtsies.

So it's chemo-eve again and mentally, I'm at the "after tomorrow there's just one more to endure" stage. Pychologically it helps - I think. Though I try not to. Think that is. About the chemo. I'm told I have "anticipatory nausea". It means my mind now expects to be sick (there's a surprise - my memory works!) therefore I am sick.

Now, why does this not bother me? Part of me is secretly dismayed that I haven't cracked the "mind over matter" thing, but part of me is secretly pleased that my brain is doing what it's meant to do. A bit of me clearly isn't fooled by the presence of anti-emetics etc and knows what's going on - ok, may be an over-active immagination, but hey, it's nice to have some part of me active for a change!

I had nice diversion tonight anyway - the Good Book Club met as we've been doing, every Monday at M's. No study, but loads of chat. A friend has moved house as her minister husband has started in a new church and we just wanted to catch up and remind her that when the traybakes and endless phone calls get more than she can bear on top of a day's workload at the hospital, we're here to mop up the tears, paint her toenails, laugh and do whatever girly stuff is necessary to help her keep going. Oh yes, and we'll pray. Big time. It's such a diverse wee group... and I love them to bits - though they keep me in tears of laughter sometimes.

Take S for example. (SJ to her aunt and R to most of us - don't ask.) She needs to practice her curtsy as she sort of bumps into royalty now and again... almost literally in this particular case. Good story - she was introducing the heir apparent and his surprising deep-voiced wifey (the future queen? there's a debate!) Anyway, the wifey spoke, the depth of her voice surprised S who then got her foot stuck in the carpet whilst mid curtsy. Unable to free the toe from the carpet pile, she hobbled along the line with one knee permanently bent, like some half human-half hobbit thing, trying to introduce her team. It's all on camera. Like the time in France, in the swimming pool... with the bra.. but that's for another time. Name your price for my silence S!

The alternative to a wig on bad (no hair) days?

I was stared at this week. Really stared at. "It's because I've no hair isn't it?" She nodded. "Do you think it's a bit funny looking?" She shook her head. "You know it will grow again soon don't you?" Another shake. She's five years old and has great fluffy blond "springs" - curls to you and me. She also hasn't seen me since I started the billiard ball with stubble look and clearly, she was troubled by it. She's in good company. "You're not seriously going to do without a wig are you?" My mother. And she's not alone either: "Have they given you a wig yet?" (I am literate enough to read between the lines of another relation's words.)
So I got the wig - I didn't have much choice.
Cheery-Cheery, the ever happy head of wigs at the McDermott (cancer) Unit insisted and I hadn't the energy that day to argue. I'm not sure what to do with it though. It's hot, hairy (no surprise there) and looks ridiculous. A fellow-sufferer confided that hers blew off in the local High St recently and while she laughed, a passer by nearly had a heart attack. So in the interests of public health, I won't be wearing it but I can't think of a use for it. Dressing up box for little'uns or boot sale or fire it off to ebay's folicle club if such a thing exists? What does a gal do with an unappreciated wig and polystyrene head, wig oil and shampoo or whatever gloop I bought with it? Any suggestions?
Here's the thing: when it's cold I wear a bandana thingy. When it's warm, I go topless (so to speak). Frankly, I don't care and it really hasn't bothered me for even 10 seconds. It's quick, easy to dry (!) and I don't have to look at it. Way I see it, I'm sick, I have a vile toxic cocktail of chemotherapy every three weeks, my hair fell out quickly, it'll probably grow again, but for now, this is me, get used to it!
(Suggestions welcome as to suitable use of said clump of fake hair!)

In the beginning...

Seems like a good place to start, though what to begin with? I'm half way into the current chapter of "me" so maybe a "story so far" note?

I've been out of work since December 13th 07 following a diagnosis of something not too pleasant. My reaction, I've discovered, was not typical. Being told I had breast cancer scored about 4 on the personal richter scale. Knowing I wouldn't need to go into work for a while hit a 6. Every cloud has a silver lining huh? It's not that I don't like my job. I actually quite enjoy it, but it had worn me threadbare and I was in corkscrew mode, drilling down deep to find the resources to keep going.

That was December. Now it's mid April and the surgery is a distant memory. I'm in the third week of my third of six cycles. Odd word that. Cycle. It conjures up images of fresh air and health. No clues beforehand about the feeling of someone pumping almost a litre of wall-paper paste into your veins. Three cycles and one week to go to the end of the chemo. (4062 hours to be accurate - how sad is that! Then there's the radiotherapy, which isn't on the radar yet as it takes me too far away on the calendar.)

Until this current chapter, I'd been pretty healthy, pretty happy and pretty much wasting time. Being home-based makes me so much happier. That's one to unpack another time.