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.