Not a Merry Christmas

It's quite surreal how bad my Christmas was. It makes you think about all the froth and bubble of Xmas and how insubstantial it is. Bad things can happen anytime; Xmas ain't immune. It's also almost funny. I feel like sending one of those Xmas letters but painting it very black: the opposite of boasting.

First of all I had the suspicious tissue plus biopsy on December 11. Then no results when they were meant to come through the following week, thus prolonging the agony. On 19 December I got a horrible gastric virus which lasted almost a week. No vomiting but nausea, fever, a general feeling of malaise and watery diarrhoea which I didn't handle well because I ended up dehydrated. When I finally went to the doctor he said it was hard to confine it to one member of the family so I cancelled Xmas and stayed home by myself for the week. My best friends were out of the country or inundated by grandchildren so I didn't even have anyone to talk to on the phone.

Son Peter had followed up my results with the surgeon when I was too nervous to. As a result the surgeon rang Peter when those results came out on Xmas Eve. Cancer, early, surgery. Peter came round and delivered the news though the closed ranchslider so that he didn't get the bug. It was a relief to know but horrible to be so very alone.

The "early" part sounds good and so does the fact that the surgery won't be quite so big as last time. And yet, it IS cancer and who knows what they might find when poking around or in the CT scan? I'm pretty confident it will be all right but I know I have to prepare for contingencies. That oral cancer surgery with the tracheotomy and naso-gastric tube, with the patch from elsewhere in the body and therefore prolonged stay in hospital, is anathema to me. Other people sleep through things like that but I'm a notoriously bad sleeper. With oral cancer surgery the improvement each day is slower than with other surgeries. Even the worst abdominal surgery patient feels a lot better after three days and can EAT. With this surgery you can't eat or drink until the trache is out and that can be over a week. There are no meal times to break up the monotony.

And then there's the rest of the family with at least one family member pretty depressed by the whole thing. In a year their father goes into care for dementia, their mother has her fourth cancer diagnosis. How long can her body withstand those horrible surgeries?

It's hard to get out of self-pity mode. Maybe soon!

Fitter, but ...

Have been going to walking groups for a couple of months now and golly gee I'm a lot fitter. The mileage plus the orthotics in my shoes mean that I can now walk for well over an hour with no pain. Walked for one hour 40 on Sunday at a pretty fast rate of knots and felt good afterwards - invigorated. I've been through this get-fit stage many times in my life and really appreciate it. Especially now - it's good to know that even the pensioner's body can improve.

I fell over a couple of times the Sunday before last though - once while going down a steep track on Mangere Mountain. Had that sickening feeling when you feel your ankle twisting. In that split second you feel (or I do): no more walking for a while. Oh dear. But no, it came right after a couple of days and after four days rest I was good to go.

What really made me tingle with fear was my oral cancer check-up this morning. I assumed that everything would be all right because I've had no scares for a couple of years now. This morning the doctor pronounced the inside of my left cheek (where I often get ulcers) to be "a bit manky" and warranting a biopsy. He did say he could hold off doing the biopsy because of Xmas etc but in the end decided to do it then and there. At his tone and hearing the words "manky" and biopsy" my head and heart were assaulted by a tingly adrenalin reaction. Very distinct, very palpable. Fortunately that was followed by a warmer feeling, a sort of strength reaction I've felt before. Maybe a defense mechanism ... a feeling that I have to cope, I will cope and there's no use worrying until the results come out.

He more or less said it could be a new primary. Not a spread etc. I know this happens with oral cancer. He said it might be precancerous. That is likewise possible with this type of carcinoma - you tend to get a lot of dysplasia. If it is cancer it has been caught early.

If I have a hunch it is that there IS something there but that it is not all that serious. Hmmm. When I get this calm feeling there usually IS a problem!!! Doctor said surgery would involve removal and a graft; no need to go right through the cheek. That's my real fear. I can sort of get by with my present scars and reconstructed tongue but I don't want a patched up face or any more of a speech impediment.

So I've got a week before I know the results. I'm going to really make it count. There's nothing like a cancer scare to remind us of the value of life and health. And fitness:)

Below is a photo of the little dome inside the crater of Mangere mountain. A sort of mini-me of the mountain as a whole.

Kitchens today

I've got a new kitchen in the modern sense – not a new room but new cupboards and benches. My 33 year old built-in kitchen with its smelly old particle board has just been removed and the new kit is in with the cheapest oven and cooktop I could buy. From a cramped narrow room I've

somehow acquired a bigger looking room with wider benches and deeper cupboards. Cool.

Stressful though. Builder kept disappearing for hours on end and I had over four days camping out in the lounge with a kettle, microwave and bucket.

Now I know what people mean when they say, “I’m getting a new kitchen”. These factory built kitchens are slotted in without glue or nails and can be replaced every decade or less. 

Cabbage Trees

In my patriotic little heart there's a special place for the cabbage tree. They are such a distinctive part of the New Zealand landscape. They're not pretty or symmetrical or soft or gracious but sharp, spiky, irregular and unusual. Festooned with their sweet smelling, cream coloured flowers in late spring, they have a few weeks of glory. 

There's a sickly little grove of cabbage trees on the Orewa estuary walkway. The grove is totally monocultural which is quite unusual and because they are growing close together and are spindly and yellow, they add a spooky touch to that part of the walk. 

The trees in the Hatfield's Beach wetland are in spectacular flower this season. 

Popchik

I've just finished a wonderful new novel called The Goldfinch. It’s by Donna Tartt and featured a protagonist who was always on the brink of disaster. While it was nerve-wracking, all 700 pages of it, it ended on a philosophical note and contained some of the most lovable characters I've come across for some time. One of them was a little Maltese terrier called Popper in English and Popchik in Russian. He was important because while the main character was always in dire straits (drugs, alcohol, and the criminal underworld) his affection for the dog never wavered. He even took Popchik by bus from Las Vegas to New York. He hid him in a sports bag!

 Here is the first appearance of the little dog who bursts out of the house after Theo’s feckless father and girlfriend take the boy home to Las Vegas. Popper has been locked in the house for days:

“Before she’d opened the door all the way, a hysterical stringy mop shot out, shrieking, and began to hop and dance and caper all around us.”

That hysterical stringy mop is badly neglected in Las Vegas but becomes a part of Theo’s strange household in New York. Over a decade later Popchik is still there when Theo comes back from Amsterdam, pacing around his feet “in staunch geriatric figure eights of greeting”.

And on a different note, a photo of Orewa from the path to Hatfield’s beach, taken last week. 

Political headache

Woke up at 4 am with an intense headache on the right side of the back of my head. Third time I've had this and this morning it wouldn't go away. I took the usual painkillers and tried to sleep on a bag of frozen peas. They both helped but didn't ease the pain enough for me to feel that I could cope. Got up, had a coffee and digestive biscuit, watched a bit of Breakfast and checked a few things on the internet. Oh blessed, relief, it subsided and now is just a vague niggle.

It wasn't a migraine and I don't think it was a tension headache because they are not so focused. It could be a rebound headache from all the painkillers I'm taking for my back or a muscle thing. It's worse if I lie on my left side. 

I've been crossing my fingers that the Labour Party conference would go okay and it seems to have. Cunliffe's speech made all the right noises and was spectacularly oratorical. He left the podium and walked around the stage like a Maori orator, gesturing at the audience and addressing them directly. He couldn't have had an autocue and there were no notes. An extraordinary performance. And yet ... it seemed a bit too general. I preferred the speeches he made while he was a backbencher last year. 

The policies of KiwiAssure, housing solutions in Christchurch and gender equity in the caucus seem pretty good. 

Walks and worries

Very good walk yesterday from Long Bay to Pohutukawa Bay and back around the rocks. There were only about 12 people compared to the usual 30 plus so I got to know a few of them better. We had coffee at the Long Bay container cafe where Denise and I annoyed the manager a couple of months ago by returning our over-spiced soup. This time it was sort of okay but the coffee was too strong. Fabulous view.

I'm worried about the Labour Party Conference this weekend. David Cunliffe has been preparing for it I guess because he has had a low profile recently with the Greens once again providing the most obvious opposition to government policies. This means the conference is crucial. It has to present us with some exciting policies and grab the attention of the media in a positive way. Cunliffe's speech will have to be a blisteringly good exercise in political leadership.

I singed like a man

That was grandson recalling that he had watched Jason Aldean singing Big Green Tractor on You Tube with headphones on. He had danced and sung along.

Love his developing grammar.

Earlier we had a talk about being naughty, about how another kid "dot told off" and "why was so and so naughty?" Out of the dim depths of my brain I answered that some people are naughty because they are "very emotional". I halfway expect him to remember that and ask me why people are "emotional" when he sees me this week.

The Signature of All Things

I was scornful about Elizabeth's Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love" with its indulgent psychobabble although I really liked an earlier book, "The Last American Man". She's a really good writer and in this novel she seems at first reading anyway to be going against the idea that there's anything particularly mystical in the world. It's a novel about nature and evolution and searching for meaning and understanding. The main character is a 19th century self-taught botanist Alma Whittaker, a lonely, plain-looking woman who finds purpose in a meticulous study of mosses. Don't worry, it's got some really exciting bits too.

From beginning to end the reader follows her physical, mental, spiritual and emotional development. Poor Alma tries so hard to understand the world. I particularly like this quote from near the end:

"Alma's stubborn, relentless, internal-speculation engine began to spin once more. This sensation angered her further. She was so weary of speculation. She could not bear anymore to invent new theories. All her life, she felt, she had lived in a state of speculation. All she had ever wanted was to know things, yet still and now - even after all these years of tireless questioning - all she did was ponder and wonder and guess."

Post fast walk exhaustion?

Walking groups are the new big thing with me. Thursdays and Sundays - and now I've heard of a once a month all dayer on Fridays. I'm really enjoying the Stanmore Bay Leisure Walkers who have a six month programme printed twice a year with a different walk each week. All walks are at least an hour, sometimes a little bit more. I've walked with them three times, once through the Alice Eaves Kauri Reserve at the northern end of Orewa and then down to Hatfield's Beach. As you wind down the walkway there's a good view of that funny little green volcanic looking hill behind Orewa. It's a totally rural, tree-filled view and a change from seascapes. Of course the kauri reserve is quite stunning. On the second occasion we left from Okoromai Bay in Shakespeare Regional Park and walked along the clifftop towards Gulf Harbour. Okoromai for some reason is almost mudflatty - the tide goes out a long way - but there was just enough water on the sand flats for the Norfolk pines to be reflected faintly on the wet surface.

Although there's a lot of development on the coast here both places provide a view of unspoiled scenery.

This week the walk was in Orewa - the Millenium Walkway - so was never going to be as spectacular. I've done it before ... blue painted footprints take you round the back of town, briefly through the kauris and back along the beach. It's a longer walk and I needed to be back by 11 am so walked with the blisteringly fast (to me) front people for the last part of the walk. My new orthotics seemed to work well, aching was minimal and stopped once I stopped walking but it was 1 1/2 hours of fast walking and I seemed to suffer today. Exhausted, Hoping against hope it's just part of a getting fit process not a sign I can't hack it. I like pushing myself, always have.

.

Unexpected praise

Went to a Alzheimer's Society Carers' meeting on Tuesday. I'm in two minds about this group and my contribution to it now that Allen is in care. The Alzheimer's key worker said she'd like me to keep coming and one of the regulars uses it to offload her concerns about HER husband in care. Also, I need to get out and meet people. So I go and cringe sometimes at what I "share" on these occasions. But Tuesday was pretty good. There were only three of us in addition to the key worker and the conversation veered into the weird and wonderful at times. Like how newly single women in ancient societies were killed because they were a threat to the wives of the village and how there is still an undercurrent of this when an older woman alone ventures out into society. Huh. But more importantly there was a woman of about late 70s to early 80s there: very articulate and in that awful phase where her husband has a diagnosis but is still driving. I told her of the two accidents Allen had at that stage. She was on the verge of tears, something I've seen before at these meetings and my heart went out to her. Anyway, as we left she came up to me and touched my shoulder saying I had been a big help to her. She doesn't talk to anybody. Phew, I always feel I'm crap at empathy and that praise meant a LOT to me. I don't know know if you'd call it praise but acknowledgement that I'd been of help. So nice because helping others is so good for the soul:)

To top that off in a superficial way I got told I looked too young for a Gold Card at Mcdonald's

yesterday. Wow. I'm on a roll.

Windswept coast pics are also good for the soul so here's Orewa from Pinewoods Holiday Park.

I am your own forever

That was the best line I saw delivered in the National Theatre Live production of Othello. Iago said the words slowly after Othello had gone out the door. Then he took the handkerchief out of his pocket, shook it open, looked at it and walked out the same door stuffing the hankie in his pocket. It was kind as if he had Othello's heart in his hands.

That was one nice touch I saw in the production. The play as a whole didn't thrill me the way it would have once but I really loved the down to earth way Emilia and Desdemona delivered their lines. I think they were a tad better than the actors who played Othello and Iago.

My motorway phobia came back a bit when I drove to the theatre in Northcote. Long story but I was too scared to drive the motorway home; just headed blindly west and then north via Birkenhead, Glenfield, Albany and Dairy Flat. Took nearly an hour. I need to do my motorway practice driving in the mornings after rush hour. Or go to Matakana for art flicks.

I'm going to Milford this afternoon to get orthotics made up for my walking shoes. It won't stop the pain from my bulging disc and piriformis syndrome but by correcting structural problems with the way my feet hit the ground it MIGHT make long walks less painful. And if I can summon up the self-discipline to do Pilates exercises in between Monday classes  ....

Photo below is one I took of the Puhoi River last weekend.

I'm back!

Gosh, I stopped this blog in July 2009, four years ago and it's still here as if it were only yesterday. I've actually been meaning to start a new blog with a more specific focus for ages. After much pondering I've decided to pick this one up again. After all,  I became sort of unretired and now I'm retired again, after a fashion.

Nothing to stop me branching out to other topics apart from the "retiring and moving to Whangarei" story.

But to backtrack,  after July 2009 I went back to work full-time at a Catholic school - all senior classes - and I enjoyed it. But in October another cancer was found on my tongue and this time I had to have a large part of the tongue removed as well as some of the floor of my mouth. A so-called flap was formed by some tissue from my wrist. It was a big huge ghastly operation for which I was in Auckland Hospital for three long weeks. For the following two years there were a few panics when ulcers developed somewhere else in my mouth but by and large I've been well and in 2011 worked all year part-time (a big part-time job) at a small private school north of Whangarei.

That sounds quite good but in 2010 (probably earlier) Allen developed dementia. By the end of 2011 I didn't feel I could leave him at home while I worked and I wanted us to move to Auckland anyway to be nearer family. Eldest son, wife and baby had moved from the UK to Browns Bay. I didn't think I could cope in Whangarei with Allen by myself. End result was a move to Red Beach on the Hibiscus Coast in May 2012. Allen went into a rest home three months ago where he is amazingly well settled and I am once more carving out a new life. I know no-one in the local area apart from our young neighbours so I'm on a mission to meet people. Very hard when you have always struggled with socialising:) I've joined two walking groups for now - not a bad start. I've also had some relieving at Orewa College and have a small handful of students to tutor: two Chinese people and a Year 12 boy doing NCEA. I guess I've done pretty well to get out there in the world in the few months since Allen went into care. Before that I could barely go out at all.

In this blog I want to do more than chart my own personal process of retirement but also comment on the world around me. I'm fascinated in politics, the environment, books and films ...

Below is a view from Wenderholm - a place I'm delighted to live near.