Category: Life. Plans. future.

One year ago, I had been in the throes of rescuing my writing career and had found a new publisher of my autobiography after ‘family’ had done their best to have it removed from the market. Nothing to do with the story or contents, but just to cause me hurt and pain. The book had been very successful and had been in circulation and still selling for 7 years at this point.With my husband’s support and that of many hundreds of readers, the book was, at this time last year, in the process of being published again as a second edition, with the reasons for this, at the back of the new version. All of this was a horrible culmination of a few year of nastiness, inflicted on me by my daughter Lisa Pond and her aunt Trisha Anne Hopkins. It was a horrible time and caused me a great deal of pain. As this vendetta had been going on for 3 years, it had made me ill. My daughter then involved members of my family, people who were distant relatives in as much as they didn’t know me from Adam, all of whom spread the lies she fed them. This obviously hurt me a great deal.

At this time, David’s PSA was increasing and he was having repeat tests and so the dreaded ‘c’ word was looming over us like a black cloud. I tried not to worry ,as he had no symptoms and was fit and active and very well. Cancer had different ideas.

Because of the ongoing family stuff I lost contact with my grandchildren who had been fed lies about me and I was unable to give my side of the story. However,I continued to have contact with my eldest grandson for a long time and did not discuss his mother or the things that were going on, as I didn’t want to involve him. But suddenly the contact ceased. I have written since but I know his mother reads his mail and his phone so he may not have received my messages. I miss him, I miss her and I miss my family as they were. Times like the ones, we, ‘here on the farm’ have gone though, family should be part of our comfort and strength. But they never have been so why am I constantly wishing they were?

So this time last year, I was at an all time low, very physically and emotionally drained and worn out. I couldn’t find the worry button and my life was scary, cruel and lonely, except for those here with me.

Why am I re telling you this?  It is because it has all caught up with me. It is because cancer is not selective. It doesn’t judge whether you have other things going on in your life. It doesn’t choose those it feels can cope with it. It doesn’t only hit those whose lives are going well. It doesn’t consider any of this. Prostate cancer , the cancer with a ‘little ‘c’ just happens. At its will. Knocking you when you are down giving no consideration to your limits or anything else. It hits the man in your life but it hits you as well. It barges into your life uncaring about the battles you are already fighting. Not concerned about how low you might be, whether you are capable of with standing its onslaught. To me , it was like all the nasties, already invading my life, stealing my peace, just as selfish, just as cruel and non discriminatory. I was already down to rock bottom,how much further did it think it could push me!

But push me it did as you can read in previous blogs.

Today is a bad day. Cancer hit me at a the worst time ever, if there is anything but a worse time for this cruel disease. It didn’t give a thought to where I was. Or did it? It has been a horrible 3 years but this past one the worst. I am so lucky that David is doing incredibly well and he is so positive and for that I am forever grateful. He is upbeat and forward-looking as am I most of the time. But not today. This past year has taken an even more severe toll on me than I had realised until this past day or so.

There is another sadness now in my life, one too big to talk about. A sadness that has left me broken . I was already bruised and battle-scarred from family stuff but now am like a broken china doll and not sure how to be fixed. I know that if the vendetta against me hadn’t rendered me so low, I would have dealt with cancer with a little ‘c’ better. But it had been eating away at me, stealing from me, my reputation, my career and my peace of mind.  I had lost so much, just for being honest and now am missing those who shut me out. I know what I did was right but sometimes the price we pay for being honest is way to high. I don’t know which famous person said ‘honesty is over rated’, but today I think they were right.

In another blog, I likened David having PC and having a Robotic op; as having a bad apple in a fruit bowl. If you remove the bad apple, the other fruit will be okay. This has been done and my husband is thankfully cancer free, no damage to any other part of him. But what has it done to me?

It was like my bad apple had already contaminated the rest of the fruit in the bowl. It was all bad. It is like I already had a really nasty, raw, wound, that was weeping and spreading. Every time I was bullied, maligned, lied about by family,the infected place got  bigger and more contaminated.

And then, along came cancer pushing and pulling at the wound and opening it up to reveal the contaminated flesh and leaving it open to elements. Everything that touched it made it worse. Inflicting more pain with every touch.

Every now and then I could cleanse it, re dress the wound and make it comfortable, enough for me to bear. I could cope. I could use my hidden strengths, my sense of humour and bounce back despite the discomfort and pain. Pretending all was well.

But some days, as with this latest heartbreaking scenario, I can’t stand the pain. I don’t have the strength. I am tired of the pain. Tired of the missing people, tired of feeling sad. I’m just tired. Maybe if I had had family support during the last year, maybe that would have helped us both, David and I and maybe I wouldn’t be feeling this way.

It is times like today that I need to summon from somewhere, the ability to move on. I need to feel angry.

‘Anger is Sad’s bodyguard’.

A line I used in an earlier blog. It’s true. All through my life I have used this. Used anger to hide my feelings, used it to make people hear me.

If I can be angry….I can cope with Sad.

If I can be angry…. I can deal with how life has changed.

If I could be angry… Life would be better.

If I could be angry, …..I could blame cancer with a little or big ‘c’. But the truth is, that would be wrong.

I miss family. I am tired of being strong.

I am tired of pretending I am okay.

Tired of not being able to just move on as my family has.

Even after the two people who caused all of the suffering before and during the last year, for me, have been proven not to be trusted; even after knowing how they have made me ill and subjected others, to lies and dishonesty, family still won’t accept this and see the reality of the situation. They still ignore my messages and emails asking to be included. I have tried hard to make things right. My late sister Georgina asked me to promise to bring the family together again, she knew the truth, and I have tried but it hasn’t worked. I am sorry sis.

I am so tired of saying sorry. Yes I have apologized to those concerned, even though it wasn’t me who lied.

Memories come into my head and fall as tears down my face. The times I spent with my children, my nephews, my nieces. The times with grandchildren that should still be happening, for me and for my wonderful husband. My honesty has cost me dear. Memories can be a comfort but can also be a pain.

You are possibly thinking this is self-indulgent, again I am sorry but have always promised to write how I feel. It is times like this I need to summon up something from somewhere to enable me to bounce back, carry on.

2nd part.

I wrote the first part of this blog early today. But I have just returned from a gentle walk with David and my little dogs in our beautiful part of the world. It is so quiet, just the sound of the birds singing, the rustling of the trees newly dressed and the ducks playing on the water. It doesn’t look the same as it did, nothing is the same as it was. But as I glanced at my beloved husband, I thought I would come up here to my lovely little study and scrap this blog. But decided against that. I promised to write it as it is. To write with honesty, truth and openness, warts ‘n all. Because David had cancer. Because David had the surgery. Because he has the side effects, it doesn’t change the facts. PC cancer affects partners as much but in a different way. I thought I was okay, thought I had come through unscathed. But no surgery, no medication or treatment will make me well.

I know I have coped with horrors in my life many don’t experience and I always bounce back. But this time, the cancer that David had, affected me in a way I would never have thought possible and has left me wanting. Left me bereft. Left me with a kind of depression, delayed I think from ‘coping’ over the past 3 years. Culminating in the worst year of my adult life.That’s what happens sometimes, I know that from my work. You are okay during the trials but afterwards, things hit you like sledge hammers and you are left feeling as I do today.

Let’s hope I can find my way back. I need to focus on the positives. PC has taught me a lot, given me things like masses of information, that I will use to inform others of, for instance, getting checked early. It has helped me with statistics for the book I will write when I feel stronger but mostly it has given me many friends on social media. PC groups who have supported, encouraged and helped me through this journey from the very start. They gave been a Godsend. I am so grateful for them.

I hope next week my blog will be more positive and upbeat. Watch this space.

Thankyou once again, for reading.x

 

 

 

 

Life ‘here on the farm’ was getting back to a kind of normality. Of course David was still in recovery, still is in recovery really, but life was calmer and the dark days of the past 15 months were beginning to lessen in their attemps to creep back into my conscious hours. I still had moments of the ‘what ifs’ but had been able to push them out of my head because my beloved husband is cancer free, as much as we can say that and all is good with him. Last week we had begun work on the garden, small bits but at least we had started. We had managed our trip to Hampshire to see family, mainly my brother Tony and my son Jonathan. Both who are very poorly. It had been a harrowing weekend but good to have been able to see them and talk of the good times. As those of you who have read last week’s blog know, David had received a request to do a 2nd Bowel cancer test as the first had shown blood in the sample. This ‘delightful’ piece of information was waiting for us when we arrived home from our weekend; shattered, drained and exhausted. It was a like a huge slap. The biggest of blows and brought us to our knees. It was as if cancer with a little ‘c’ was having a laugh. ‘You thought it was safe, didn’t you, well take this’!

After a sleepless night full of the ‘f’ word that had plagued me for more than a year now, David did the new test and we posted it off. I say ‘plagued me’ because the whole idea of this blog is to tell it from my perspective, not from David’s. He is aware of my doing it and often reads my blog. I began it last August to offload, to share my fears, my sadness and helplessness and anger,so that other partners who feel this way, don’t feel alone. Giving them permission in a way. So these are my thoughts, my feelings and emotions. I was already blogging, as I had suffered a great deal of bullying online, from my eldest daughter Lisa and youngest sister Trisha, all of which has had a huge emotional impact on where I was physically and psychologically  when my Journey with cancer with a little ‘c’ began. Blogging on here was the only way I had of telling the truth of the nasty situation they had put me in.

So this past week, trying to come to terms with my brother’s terminal illness and worry about my son and other family stuff, I was left even more drained than before our visit, mostly because of the letter about the bowel cancer test. Suddenly I was back there, in the full throw of the fear and anger I had ,when David first had his diagnosis, or rather, it brought these emotions back in full with fear as the greatest of them all. When my husband had his first routine PSA test, it was slightly elevated so they repeated it. He had no signs, had not been poorly and was fit and active so I had no reasons to think he had anything wrong. After repeat PSA tests that were still high, he had, what I thought would be a routine biopsy last August and I was sure nothing would be found. I was not nervous, so sure all would be okay. How daft that proved to be! He had cancer and this horrible scary journey began. On the 23rd February this year he had Robotic surgery and now his PSA in undetectable. How thrilled we were. How safe and happy we felt. All is okay now. Or so I thought. Life would get back as it was before, here in our beautiful house with its amazing views that I had stopped being able to see. 

Teach me to be smug! Teach me to believe life after the past 3 horrible years, would be better now. A new beginning, another chance. 

This time, although he  had no signs of bowel cancer, no symptoms and wasn’t ill, this time, it was different. He had no signs last time, I told myself foolishly. I read and  re read the letter and I was terrified. So this past week has been a very long week. The screening letter had said, they would post the results of the 2nd test straight back to us. After the test had gone,we didn’t speak of this latest scary, we never mentioned it. I actually thought David had forgotten it, as he never said a word. He had been very pragmatic about the Prostate cancer and I thought that was why nothing had been said. It was almost as though the letter had never come, as though the test had never been done. We were both very low, exhausted from the weekend’s harrowing times and very tired.

Our drive is about 100 yards long and so the post is left in a post box at the end of it. Neither of us, any day this past week, offered to collect the post. Silly really as though that would stop it arriving. Thursday and Friday saw us leaving it in the box. But yesterday we had no choice. After returning from our daily dog walk, the box was over full and we had to empty it.

I recognized the letter straight away, the NHS logo on the front was a kind of clue. I said nothing and continued to walk up to the house. Then I told David the letter had come. At first he just shrugged his shoulders. A little later, after a cup of coffee, he asked if he should open it. I didn’t want him to. I wanted to throw it in the bin. After all, I was so wrong last time. The ‘what ifs’ were coming fast and furious and I began to feel light-headed. Seeing this, my wonderful strong man, slit open the letter and passed it to me. It was clear. The sample was clear! It took a few minutes to sink in but it meant that David did not have Bowel cancer and was okay. After looking over at him, I rushed over and we both cried. I told him how scared I had been and he said, ‘not as scared as me, I bet’. My big strong man, my rock who had been so pragmatic and resilient during the past few years and particularly this last year of hospital tests, biopsies, and surgery, had been scared and had kept it to himself. We hugged cried and then laughed. All would be well now. I could now bounce back.

Through everything,the past year and a bit, with this awful disease, it had been the fear of what we thought we knew that had affected us. Not knowing or unknowing at one point, what we knew, was impossible. But this time we knew. He was in the clear and life could now begin.

During my Journey with PC , Fear was the hardest for me.  This past week, it had returned, the flashbacks, the nightmares and the hypervigilance, all back.  Legacies from childhood I think. We all get scared at times, but having been a victim of CSA,  one of the legacies is the huge fear and symptoms of PTSD.  These had all returned when I was suffering abuse of a different kind over the past 3 years, over the Internet, by ‘family. Bullying in the way the woman they called my mother had bullied me, by my daughter  and sister.  So I was already in a vulnerable place when this cancer struck. Although this fear was different, it still rendered me lower than I had ever been before.

Over the last weekend, I was pleased to know that my brother had his family all around him. The family he had created, his sons and daughters, the family, or part of his birth family, myself and my middle sister June and my own family, although a long way away. This is how it should be.Love should begin at home and I am so happy to know he is loved and cared for so well. I wish I could do my bit as I would have done if closer.

Sadly, I don’t have a family, no-one really apart from us ‘here on the farm’. It’s just how it is, not trying for sympathy, that is life. I do have valued good friends but all who live away; so we are now in the process of putting our house in order so to speak, and providing for the animals in our care, for when we are no longer able to keep them. I have left instructions re my personal belongings, jewelry and the like and bequests for my grandsons and grand daughter. It’s a hard task but if Tony can arrange and choose his funeral then I know I can and must do this. These past few years have taught me that life can be over in a flash.

We are hoping to go down to Portsmouth again soon. Maybe see people we didn’t get around to seeing. But in the mean time, bouncing back is the theme of the day. Not to let fear ruin my today. If I am scared, face the fear head on and as nothing can be worse than the past 3 years, the last year being the worst in my adult life, I know I can do this.

As I have written here before, Prostate cancer is an unusual cancer, in that  it affects partners and wives in a huge way. Yes the man has the illness but we both have the pain.The side effects are often, but not always life changing. I believe the fear of these, the immense waiting periods between tests, tests and more tests and then results, are unending and cause us all untold damage. But. We can come though this, we need to talk to each other, express our fears, allow our anger and our sadness and never be afraid to cry.

If you have read my blog up until today, you will have read my struggles and in some ways, they will continue but not today. Today is to enjoy. To look forward and to say Thankyou to everyone who has supported me in this journey I never asked to take. Without you all, who knows where I would have been. Thankyou x

To lighten the mood.A few years ago, I decided to have a new hair do.As those who know me from social media, when my children’s book was published I had a shoulder length blonde hair. When I asked my daughter if I should change it, she said ‘yes Mum, you look like a Weeble’. I was mortified. But do you know what. ‘Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down’. So perhaps that’s what I am, even without the hairdo!

 

Thank you for reading. xx

 

Well this weekend was one of the most harrowing I have endured for a long time. Yes even after the past year, with my husband’s cancer, diagnosis and treatment. During that time, I was overwhelmed, terrified, sad and lonely, off and on, in equal measures. As those of you who have read my blog will know.

When David was about to have surgery, my brother was given his prognosis of a few months to live. My little dog had cancer and was in surgery and then my son, in Hampshire, contracted Gullian Barr syndrome and was paralysed.  Some of you will know that I didn’t bring up my son, he was adopted as a baby, at a time when I was ill and had no-one to help me. The biggest regret and sadness in my life. I have always kept in touch with the agency who was involved at the time and when he was 21, they asked if I wanted to meet with him, apologising for the whole sorry ordeal of losing him. Since them we have been in touch. These past few years we have become closer and although I hadn’t been able to see him for a few years, I needed to see him now. So there I was, David fighting cancer, Elli fighting cancer;me ill with a vascular issue, my brother very ill and then Jonathan’s illness. Not being able to go and see those I loved was heartbreaking, so we decided on the spur of the moment to make the trip to Hampshire last weekend. A 6 hour drive each way but David felt able to do this as his recovery was going so well.

 

Because of commitments here ‘on the farm’ and illness in the past 3 years, we hadn’t been able to make the trip to see family, as we used to at least twice a year. So although I knew it would be difficult, we were looking forward to visiting. How much I had needed a hug from my brother these past 2 years is beyond description, especially during our fight against PC. We travelled down early Saturday morning and went straight to his home. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t prepared for how frail he looks. Not ready to see the big bear of a man who has always been there for me, my big brother, so poorly and frail. My heart went out to him. He tried to get up but I stopped him and gave him the hug I had held onto for so long. I did keep myself together but it was hard. After initially listening to what he knew of his illness, what the specialist had told him and arrangement he had made, we shared some fun times, some good happy memories in my not so happy childhood. Most of my happy times were either with him as we were so close or with my best friend, another Carol. I reminded him of a time he called me out of school, once lunchtime when I was around 5 years of age and he was 7. I had been queuing for dinner and he said we had to go home. If Tony had told me the moon was made of cream cheese, I would have believed him. We went into an orchard and went ‘scrumping’. Eating plums and apples to our hearts content. After a little while we came out and sat on the pavement, feeling a little poorly. A lady who we knew walked past and stopped to ask why we weren’t in school. Quick as a flash, Tony said. ‘we are going to the dentist’. She smiled and walked on past. On arriving home, feeling the worse for wear, Mother was waiting with arms folded, the lady we had seen, was on her way to our house and said she had seen us on our way to  the dentist!! Those of you who knew our Mother, can guess the rest. Tony reminded me of my helping him with his paper round. When I say helping, I marked the papers up, he sat on his bike with the bag across the bar, handing out the papers, one by one for me to run and deliver them to the appropriate house, facing dogs and anything else.Some days, he ‘didn’t feel well’ so I would go alone. Those days always seemed to be wet days as I remember, strange that. He was paid 10 shillings and sixpence. He gave me the sixpence. But I would have done anything for him and he for me so at the time, that was okay. We shared many memories that possibly no one else in the family know, funny times, cheeky times lovely memories for us both to cherish. I didn’t want to leave. He knew that, and I don’t think he wanted us to either. When Tony and Lin used to come to our cottage in Monmouth, Tony never wanted to leave. We have shared some wonderful times together, Tony and I when we were growing up. Some of my ‘in betweens’, for those who read my book. In the past years, firstly in Hampshire and then  since we have lived in Wales, David, Tony and Lin and me. I will treasure them all. We are hoping to go down again as soon as we can, maybe see more family but really to spend some more time with my brother.

When we left, I was very down, I had found the visit both harrowing and yet good, all at the same time.To take the gloom out of the day before going to the hotel, we decided to visit my ‘old’ friend Lin. I speak on here to her but again, being able to hug her was one of the highlights of a sad weekend. She didn’t know we were coming but as always, made us very welcome. We talked and talked, I tried not to get upset as she has her own sadness but I learned a great deal about me on this visit. She knows me in some ways, better than I know myself. Some re-assuring, some enlightening.I took this as my positive, my treat for the whole weekend because it was uplifting to see her again.

On the Sunday we visited my son and I met his partner, someone I had only communicated with over email/social media etc. This was a good visit but again, a bit sad and scary. He is learning to walk again and trying to regain his strength. He is strong-minded and I know will do this. I looked at him and could see my brother in some of his expressions and particularly the way he laughed. David saw this as well. Whilst sitting there, I was thinking of all the lost years. All of the milestones I had missed. Again, I had to keep it together as I didn’t want anyone to see how I was struggling. Leaving him was as always, very hard.

So all in all, the weekend was difficult, harrowing, sad and scary. But on the other hand it was good to see the other two men in my life and hug them, good to see my friend and do the same. I also found the experience enlightening and encouraging as they all wished David a speedy recovery and showed how much they all care for us both.

I learned a lot over those two days, mostly about myself and also about how to make things right for those in my family. I haven’t been able to do that yet but have things in mind.

We arrived home on Sunday evening exhausted. I had been worried about David as it was the first time we had been anywhere and he still has incontinence issues but managed very well. I felt we had turned the corner, regained some normality after the most horrendous year. I felt emotionally drained and just wanted to go to bed.  Oh how I wish I had done that and not let David open his post.

We thought it was all over, thought we had beaten cancer with a little ‘c’. perhaps we have. Perhaps I am worrying about the ‘what ifs’ all over again. But what cancer does to you is this. When it strikes, it has no thought or care for whatever is happening in your life at that time. You just have to manage the ‘c’ and everything else life has thrown at you. It leaves you with a fear like no other. You go through so many emotions and never really believe things are okay. But we thought we were okay. That life had thrown everything it could throw at us in the past 3 years. I hope I am wrong in worrying that there is still some nasties to come. So why am I worried? David’s letter told him, that a Bowel cancer test we had both taken, just before we went away, showed traces of blood. He had to do another test.

Not again! Not now! No more, I wanted to shout. Needless to say all the fear and terror returned. All the scary, all the angry, all the fear. We went to bed but I couldn’t find the worry button and so I never slept, even though I was exhausted. Although I sort reassurance from my group members and I am grateful for those who wrote, I am still very scared.

The worry stole my yesterday. I don’t even remember yesterday. Today I have accepted that maybe it will be ‘here we go again’. We don’t know until the test David did yesterday and today, has been done and the results come back to us. Yes worry steals today. It stops you being happy and it saps your strength.

I have worked hard on being strong again. I have always had to be, since a child but lost the ability during my journey with cancer with a  little ‘c’, on and off. I need to find it again. I have always bounced back. Boy do I need to do that now.

 

I hope you are all doing okay and thankyou for reading x

 

 

Waking up in the mornings now is different. For the past 12 months, with David’s health issues, on waking the first few seconds were good. But then, like a slap in the face, the reality hit me. David had cancer. Although my eyes opened to the beauty around me, this was suddenly and cruelly replaced with the fear and horror if what was unfolding around us.

For the past week and a bit, I wake and look over at my husband and smile. The outcome of this scary time could have been so much worse. But now, we can sit back and allow his recovery with renewed hope and a chance of a future. When he first had the PSA test done and the fears began, I wished above everything that he had never had the test. All through the early days on this blog, I reiterated over and over that I wished we could un-know what we knew. Life as a couple, in spite of other things going on, we were strong, good and he was fit and healthy. That is the life I wanted. Having the test meant we didn’t have that life, at least not for a year. We both knew if David had cancer, things would change. Side effects of any treatment would affect us both. Our lives together could change forever. Why would I want any of that? No, I wanted to have my life before Prostate cancer. But I had no choice. The test over, a biopsy later and cancer confirmed. Life would never be the same again. Do I still wish the test had never happened? Not anymore.Yes it has been the scariest of times. Yes our lives have changed.Yes I have been angry, sad, terrified out of my mind but am now so glad our GP sent him for this routine blood test. If he hadn’t; No, we wouldn’t have had the year from hell, but maybe, much sooner than we were ready for, David might not have been here. Dramatic? Maybe but despite what some people say, calling PC the ‘good cancer’, men die with it not from it’. Men die from it. End of. But not if its is found early enough.

We need everyone to know of this nasty disease. We need to make people understand, that like Breast cancer, bowel cancer, lung cancer, Prostate cancer is still a killer if not discovered early. So let’s raise awareness. Let’s educate our young men , tell them the importance of being tested. We don’t need to scare people but we do need to promote awareness and I will do that in every blog I write, where I can. I am handing out ribbons, for key rings etc. I will talk to anyone, young or not, whether a man or a woman with men in her life. Get tested please. David is recovering and his post op results were wonderful. Cancer all gone. That is happening more and more, you only have to read statistics or look on social media. We are winning this fight. It is up to us as survivors to do this, raise awareness , tell that it is not a death sentence every time, we are the proof.

My joy at my husband being a survivor does not make me forget all of those who are still fighting. The newly diagnosed who are now where I once was, not too long ago. You can read of my terror, anger, sadness etc in earlier blogs on here. I have been there.Struggling and scared. I think of you all often and send you my love. For those whose prognosis is not good, I send huge hugs, love and hope. I write to quite a few of you privately and will do anything I can if asked. So in my joy there is still great sadness and compassion. I will always be here to help any partner or wife, struggling to cope with their man’s illness. I know all the fear, terror, sadness and anger you feel. I’ve been there and will always be here for you .Something I have learned on my Journey, is that the one thing I had lost sight of in my life, the one thing that let me down over and over as a child , is a little word with huge significance in my own pc struggle. That word is HOPE. Never lose it. I had lost it but have regained  faith in that one word again. Thanks to my friend,Mark Bradford.

Today, Easter Sunday is significant in my life, even more so today. As a child, my Nan used to make us Easter bonnets. I could only wear mine to the church, as I had to change into my choir clothes for the service. The colours were always yellows and purples. My favourite colours to this day. The crown of the hat, she bought from Woolworth’s and covered it in tiny flowers, silk and lots of ribbons to tie under our chins. They were beautiful, shame we don’t do that today. This would have been late 50’s early 60’s. The Sunday service was made extra special because it brought the return of flowers into the church. During lent the church was cold and bare. Although I understood the significance of this, Easter always made up for it and was special. Wonderful resounding music, anthems and hymns, promising a future, a life with love.It heralded new beginnings.  A new start. Another chance.  This is what has instigated this blog.

The past few years as I have said before, have been horrid. The past 12 months alongside of this has been horrendous. Now that David is in recovery and my health issue has been a ‘wait and see’ , I think it time to reach out and try to make things better. A great deal has been said on social media, blogs written posts made, blackening my name. People have listened to lies about me, have been told things about my life that came as a surprise, even to me. They spoke about me with ‘authority’, knowing every aspect of my life in detail, some that I didn’t even know myself. During a long telephone chat last week, of which I talked of in my last blog, I spoke about my son’s illness. The voice at the other end of the phone, seemed shocked and told me that he didn’t even know I had a son. That one sentence , to me, said it all. They don’t know me. The people who caused me so much pain and hurt. They know nothing about me or my life yet they were so quick to believe people, who also knew nothing about the past 40 years of my life. But as I said last week, I bear them no ill. He also said, he admired my honesty, on here, in my books and to the faces of those I am able to actually see. This is the only way I have of communicating with the people involved. With honesty. Through social media. So here it is.

I am now looking forward. The old saying ‘ Don’t look back you are not going that way’, springs to mind. No I am not going back there. I won’t forget the past year, the illness , the fear and the hurt. I can’t and don’t think I should as it taught me so much. The immense periods of waiting that goes along with pc. Taught me patience. I learned that I was not invincible. Not immune to fear, pain and anger. I learned to hope again and felt emotions that were strangers to me. I also learned to cry.

I won’t forget the earlier part of the year. The horror that was Mother’s day. The loss of my publishing contract and my book by people whom I loved and trusted and who once loved me. All of this was forgotten during that time, but no, I won’t forget but want to move on. I understand some of what happened, for the reasons I have written in earlier blogs. I am not angry with anyone, I understand but what this past year has taught me is that life is short. None of us know how long we have and we shouldn’t waste it being estranged from family. We should, especially now at this awful time, this current sadness and imminent loss, need to start again. No-one can undo what has been done. I have apologized for any part I played, out of fear and desperation. But we need now to be together. So if you read this, please get in touch. Comment, email, telephone or message me. Any way you feel happy with.

I will do everything in my power to come down to Hampshire as soon as I can and hope to meet with some of my family and try to put this right. I always said I was willing to face any one but David’s illness prevented that. Although I am still unwell and he is still recovering, we need to do this as soon as is viable. Seeing Tony is something I want, need and will do and it needs to be soon.

Today is a new beginning. Easter shows us that things get better, brighter and that there is a future for us all. So let’s enjoy and appreciate each other please.

Happy Easter everyone.

Thankyou for reading xx

 

 

 

Today is Palm Sunday, the time to look back on past events and forward to Easter and new beginnings. That is the plan.

On Friday we saw the consultant surgeon who carried out the Robotic operation on my husband 6 weeks ago, the removal of his prostate gland. As some of you will know, I have wanted and yet dreaded that Friday ever coming. I only wanted the news if it was good and because of what happened at the biopsy appointment, I was very scared and pessimistic. It seemed at times such a long long wait but then suddenly it was here and I was terrified. I didn’t sleep the night before and travelled the long journey to Swansea in a bit of a haze. David was fine, just wanted to know the results Pragmatic as always but not me. We didn’t wait long before we were called in to see Mr Swamy and I took my seat furthest away from his desk. After all, I wasn’t the patient was I? I couldn’t have felt more scared if I had been. The consultant looked at me with great concern. ‘Why do you look so worried, so terrified’ he said kindly, I couldn’t speak. ‘Well I want to put a smile on your face’ he continued. Looking at my husband, he said,’Your PSA is undetectable and the cancer was not anywhere near as bad as we had first thought. Mild to intermediary’. Did I hear that right? Then David reached for my hand and turned and smiled at me. I wanted to hug the consultant, the nurse, hug everybody but couldn’t move. Yes David will still see him once more and stay in touch. Yes he will be monitored for 3 years but the words, telling us that the cancer with a little ‘c’ was no more was more than music to my ears. For now , it was over. 

What I haven’t told you, is that my husband hasn’t had a ‘belly button’ since he had surgery for an umbilical hernia when he was 8 years old. The central incision for the PC operation has now given him that belly button. The consultant said that the fact is was missing gave him a problem in theatre, the ‘bb’ is the locator point that they use to ascertain where the prostate is and where to travel the instruments, David’s missing ‘bb’ caused issues for him and his team. But now he has ,like most people a ‘bb’ and his only concern now is that he might have bb fluff!

When we left the consulting room, I visited the loo and on coming out I almost fainted. Relief I suppose or this damned artery thing. A very kind lady came over to me and thought I had had bad news. I told her I thought it was relief and found myself telling her about David and the cancer. She gave me the warmest of hugs I have had for a long time. I wish I had thanked her more but I hope she knew how grateful I was. Sometimes people are so kind and caring.

After telling our daughter I wanted to share my good news with my brother Tony, who you will know has terminal lung cancer. I was reluctant to do this in the circumstances but Tony and David are very fond of each as Tony and I are and I had promised to let him know. I was so proud of his reaction, he was genuinely pleased and happy for us both. I love my brother and would so like to be closer and help in his care but I am not, so I can’t. But I know he is being cared for and supported by his son and daughters and that makes me happy. Family is so important at times like these.To be there, to share our own memories and give him a hug is one of the things I am longing to do. Once we know what I am having to have done, who knows …. perhaps…?

So that part is over, that horrible terrifying year, the worry, the fear, the sadness and anger over for now at least. We have made a pact, we won’t say David is in remission. David has cancer with or without a little ‘c’. We will say, David HAD cancer. Much more positive and necessary.

This past year, as those who have read all of my personal blog, not just the PC stuff, will know, has been horrific, even before the blow cancer dealt us. I have wasted so much of the early days, when I was still in shock from the fear of PC, on other things that became out of my control. I could be very angry at that lost time. Stolen time. I could be angry at everything thrown at me that made me ill when I needed to be strong for David. Angry at allowing myself to be treated so badly. Angry at thinking about stuff when I should have concentrated more on David.So much wasted time. So much anger. So much sadness.

But.

I will use my energy focus on my man. To be with him as I always have been but more present than I was at the beginning of this nasty disease that could have robbed me of the man I love. After this horrid year I need to try once again, as I had promised my late sister, to bring family together. I know one member will have none of it but I must try with others. There is nothing like a potentially life threatening illness and the imminent death of someone you love to make you realise how precious life is and how short it might be.

As other partners will know, everything else has to be put to one-side when the man in our lives has the diagnosis of PC. We push anything else in our lives as far back out of our minds as we can. Trying to give all of our focus and energy to our men. But these ‘things’, ‘issues’ don’t just fade away. They are still there and on bad days, they come like sledgehammers into our ‘now’. Our present, no thought for our hearts and minds being overwhelmed with this nasty disease. Try as we must, we can’t always rid ourselves of these intrusive thoughts, making the nasty that is cancer with a little ‘c’ even worse, if that is possible. When this happened to me, when other ‘stuff’ continued, it got the better of me. Sometimes I would write and the blog would be angry or sad. Yes of course the situation we and our partners are in, brings these emotions of fear, terror, sadness and anger but sometimes the ‘situation’, the before cancer situation is ongoing and it gets in the way. Takes us away from the most import thing. Fighting this disease together. It stops you in your tracks and you just want to scream and shout at the world.

If I have learned anything on this journey its this. It’s okay to shout. It’s okay to scream’ It’s okay to be angry and sometimes it’s’ even forgivable if those emotions are directed at the wrong ‘stuff’ or wrong ‘people’. It’s the silent part of you that needs to let go.Caring, loving and being scared for someone we love is normal. For those of you in the position I refer to ,can I just offer this. Don’t try to be strong. Allow the other ‘stuff’, the before cancer stuff, allow it,let it in. Let it come into your ‘now’. It won’t go away just because you ignore it. Let it in, give it some thought and if you can change things, act on whatever it is, then do that. If not, tell yourself it can wait and put it in the back of your mind, to deal with at a better time.

Me? As I said, I am tired of fighting, especially fights not of my making. I am tired of being made part of a feud that I have no idea of its conception and so can’t put it right. As I said, I am going to put my house in order. I had a long and surprising telephone chat yesterday with someone I haven’t spoken to for many years. We hadn’t fallen out, it is just that this person keeps himself to himself. Part of me envies him that. He made me think, although he admitted to only having one side of everything and wouldn’t take sides and I wouldn’t expect him to.  During the ‘time before cancer’, I was being unfairly ‘assaulted’ from all sides and unfairly judged. I let my guard down. I lost my integrity and retaliated. At that time, I had lost a great deal, and was trying to get my head around David’s ‘could be ‘ cancer issues. I had been very unwell and had another family problem that was very painful. I felt isolated, bullied, betrayed and hurt. Just as I had been as a child. My ‘inner child’ came to the fore and I tried to defend myself. I couldn’t talk to the people concerned personally,as they had made that impossible so Social Media was the only way I had to put my side over and try to defend myself. That was wrong. I have apologised and regret that time more than I can say. I said things in retaliation, as a child would, that I should not have said. But I was hurt and angry. That’s what happens. Once again angry became sad’s bodyguard. I am sorry.

I am not out to win a popularity poll. I don’t want o be anyone’s ‘favourite’, I wouldn’t know how to react to that. But coming to the latter part of my life, after the year from hell, I would like to have family in my life, even if only on the net. I have no arguments with anyone. This now could give us all another chance.

I have bared my soul, spoken from my heart and don’t regret that. Honesty is who I am, how I live. Growing up in a web of lies, I have always had a huge dislike of lies and falsehoods. Perhaps at times I am too honest but that’s who I am. I just think this past year would have been easier with family in my life, that’s all. At times like these, as other partners will understand, having support, love and friendship is so important. We didn’t have that from family. But we got through it, on our own but not without huge love, support and friendship from the PC groups I belong to. I joined for information and gained so much more. Thank you to everyone for your help and support.

Now although I will still blog, I will begin once again, to enjoy my home, here  ‘on the farm’. I can see again the beauty of this place we call home. Enjoy nature and my rescues  and shower my man with every ounce of love I can muster. I know this isn’t the end of this journey but we have reached a place we can relax, enjoy and appreciate our life. Maybe I will begin to write again or finish the book already begun.

Whether I get family back or not, I have to try.

But today, nothing will dull my happiness. I won’t let anyone ‘rain on my parade’.

Tomorrow I will know the extent of my own illness and then onwards and upwards I hope.

So although there is a great deal of reflection in this blog, the overwhelming feeling I have today is relief. I hope all you reading this will understand and take heed of the message about letting go.

See you on FB soon.

Thanks for reading . x

I have often referred to my husband as my rock. He is. He is like a mountain, strong, sometimes unrelenting but I know now, even mountains can loose parts of what makes them strong. Maybe a slither of rock will fall, sometimes huge landslides change the whole of its appearance but it is still a mountain. Still beautiful and mighty and still brings wonder in its new appearance. That’s my David. Solid as a rock, Strong and amazing like a mountain but now slightly different after his own ‘landslides’.

Over most of my life, I was always as strong. I had to be. But over the past few years I have, at times, been like a tiny piece of moss clinging to the rocks, to the mountain. I clung like my life depended on it. It did. I drew strength from David and he says, he drew strength from me. I hadn’t been aware of that until today. Not aware that he needed strength ,that is a revelation. Over this past year we have both been broken by heartache and grief. Me more so than him. He has always been at my side, holding me when I cried, comforting me when I couldn’t take anymore and hugging all my pain away. This past year has brought back fear and sadness. With family betrayals, lies being spread from someone who has had no part in our lives for more than 40 years. Her lies were not questioned because she is an expert. Knows no other way to be, but lie and hurt. Although this nearly brought me to my knees, I have not acted on my feelings. After tomorrow, maybe with hopefully renewed strength, I will. Building bridges perhaps.I had and have more important things now and back then to focus on.

From March onwards the things happening to me personally, had to be pushed aside as much as they could be. David’s cancer scare and then our daughter’s wedding had to take priority. We made a pact, not to focus on the health issues and make her day the best wedding possible. The hurts and pain had already done their damage and on her wedding day, the strength it had taken to try to ignore every attempt to bring me down, was weakened and I was very unwell. But I was there.

From August last year, after the biopsy confirmed cancer, I realised that my rock, my mountain was not as impenetrable as I had thought.  It was time for me to become the rock, the mountain. The strong, unmovable, reliable force and withstand any attempt at being weakened. My turn to be strong for him.

Was it easy? No.

Did I mind? No.

Did I feel strong? No.

After surgery on 23rd February, I watched the man I love, the strong fit active man become someone who at times seemed like a stranger. Not in how he acted towards me but how he was around the house. Not talking very much where we had always chatted a lot. Looking slightly scared and so grey. His skin looked so pale and the frailty after the operation was scary. He lost weight and looked like an older version of the man I love.

David has always looked after me, I have possibly said before. Breakfast in bed for the past 30 years, started because early in our marriage,I was very unwell and just carried on. He did most of the housework for the same reason and always liked to be ‘on the go’. If anything around the house or ‘the farm’ broke, he would fix it.

It was suddenly my turn and yes, it came as a bit of a shock. Yes I gave him breakfast in bed for the five weeks after the operation. I did all the housework, wouldn’t let him lift a finger but because of my own health problems I struggled. But the hardest struggle was that I couldn’t ‘fix’ him. I couldn’t make this better. I had always been the one in the family to kiss and make it better and boy how I needed that skill now. But it was missing. I felt helpless beyond description.

I was angry and still am at times. I was scared, afraid for his future, for our future. But most of all, watching my strong rock so weak and down, I felt a great sadness.

Some days, although David is recovering well, I worry if all the cancer is gone. Some days I can’t let myself do that. But tomorrow, Friday 7th April, we will know.

Do I want to know the results? Not sure. Yes if they are good. No if they are not. I have been so low this week, David is again the strong one, the rock to my moss. I worry that I will fall apart if the results are bad. I know I can’t and most of the time, I tell myself that I won’t. I remind myself of the many times in life, I have felt I wouldn’t cope. That I couldn’t take anymore and have taken more, all of it. So I will this time but that doesn’t stop me being scared.

I know it’s not about me. I know that’s what people who haven’t been in my shoes and the shoes of every other partner of a PC sufferer would say. David has the cancer with a little ‘c’. I don’t. But the whole reason for this blog, is to tell, that it is about me! It affects the man I love. It changed the man I love. Yes he had the surgery and will have anything else he may need but the whole nasty ‘c’ word affects us both. How can it not?

He has changed, we have changed we had no choice. Our whole relationship and dynamics have changed but…. some of this is good. We have also learned to laugh about things and I have used words I would never have used before in this post operation period of PC.

But, I want once again, to shout it from the rooftops, ‘it’s not fair!  I want life before last year. Before the nasties. Before the betrayals. Before PC. I want my man back as my rock, fit and well. I want cancer not to have touched my family, my husband, my brother  but it has.

Tomorrow is another day the song says. I sometimes wish it wouldn’t come but it will. We will make the long drive to Swansea and see ‘the man’. Will it be good news? Will my man need more treatment? Will we cope? I don’t know the answers to the first 2 questions but I know the answer to the 3rd. Yes we will cope. We have to . I have to. We have no choice.

My rock is still as wonderful, if slightly changed. I still admire him more than any man I have ever known, more so now after watching how he has coped. He may be different and I know I have changed but something that hasn’t and won’t, is our love .

Love conquers all they say.  Tomorrow like  today,I will be as scared as I have been on and off this journey I never chose to travel. David is almost gung ho about the results, whilst I am fighting off this huge wave of fear that threatens to engulf me.I will try my hardest to be strong for David and I know his pragmatism will help us both.So Friday, bring it on.We will be ready for you. ( I hope).

Thankyou for reading x

 

I do try, not to feel it, I mean. Not to think about it. I do try not to keep hankering for the life before PC. Sometimes I even succeed. I went a whole hour yesterday without thinking of this unwanted, uninvited visitor in our lives. It was almost bliss. I call cancer with a little ‘c’, a visitor because it isn’t welcome and is not staying. It can’t. We will fight it with every ounce of our being. Sometimes I succeed. I can appear happy and positive, even smile, and then wallop. Like a slap in the face….Sad returns.

David will say, ‘don’t look so sad. We will be okay”. That’s where I struggle. Our whole life it seems is in turmoil and he says ‘don’t look sad’. I am sad! I scream inside. I am more than sad and why shouldn’t I be? You have cancer. My brother is dying of cancer and I can’t see him. My son is still recovering from paralyses and I am not well. I miss my family in Hampshire, my daughter and grandsons. These are the times we should all be supporting each other but this can’t happen because of past issues and lies. So I am sad! Of course I am sad! I want to shout all of this out loud, to David, to the world. But I don’t. I smile at him and reassure him that I am okay.

I lie and reach for my mask.

Life before we know what we know now, is what I want. What I hanker for. At least, life before 2013, when everything seemed to fall apart. Because thinking about this, our life was not as it should have been back for few years before David’s diagnosis. With a cancer diagnosis, we blame that nasty for everything. We live believing that life before its arrival was wonderful. My memories of the good times, when all of my family were in touch, when I saw Lisa and her boys, before the nasties of the past 3 years, actually wasn’t the reality of life before this prostate cancer. I have been told by my daughter not to mention her, but how can I not? She was a huge part of my life for more than 40 years. She is still my daughter. I lost her in my life because I needed to be honest and not lie for her. Honesty is important to me and so, I thought, to her. This lie was huge and I couldn’t do it. So mentioning her I am and will. I have written about the events leading to the estrangement of my family and so won’t write again about that. But, as ‘family’ now realise that it was the lies from my youngest sister Trisha, who poisoned my daughter’s mind and that of my ‘family’. She, Trisha, even tried writing to my friends on Social media, people she didn’t know but it kicked back at her, because the people she chose had known me all my life and also knew of her. I have tried to make things right with my nieces and hope they will soon get back in touch with me. I have never been able to visit them and tell them my side of the events, to tell them the truth. Yes I ‘lost it’ with my brother months ago because I was hurting and desperate when he said he had to stop contact with me. I have apologized for that but I had a lot on my plate, David’s diagnosis and the issues surrounding Lisa. Tony and I are okay now thank goodness. But they, family, know now what these two people are capable of. When I see ‘family’ stuff on social media I want to shout. ‘I am family. What about me?’ but that never did any good as a child. So I don’t.

So life before PC was not in reality as good as I try to tell myself. So cancer with a little ‘c’ wasn’t the first to cause havoc and pain but is certainly the worst.

On good days I write positive posts on Social media. I try to act like life is good. But actually at this moment in time, life sucks!

On not so good days, like today, my smile slips and the mask disappears and I am here in all my vulnerability, pain and fear. On these days the ‘what ifs’ return in all their nasty glory.

What if it’s spread?

What if David doesn’t make it?

What if Tony dies before I see him?

What if my health condition is serious?

What if either one of us dies??

I begin to think about our mortality, then of your family. My animals, what would happen to them? The sad is now back with a vengeance. The sad, the fear and the helplessness.

I try to tell myself that David is recovering well. Before Friday of this past week, he looked well and was behaving as he used to. He showed no sign of being ill. We will see the consultant on this Friday for the results of his histology post op and his PSA test. I tell myself that all is well because he has recovered. But then I remind myself that this was how I felt before we had the biopsy results. He had never had symptoms, never been ill. He was fit and active and I had no reason to think the biopsy would be anything but negative.

It wasn’t. ‘You have cancer’. 3 little words that turned our world on its head. Life has never been the same since.

So this coming week will be hard. Waiting is always hard and there is a great deal of it with this nasty disease.

On Friday of last week, we went to see his GP as he had a lot of pain in his heel and it had swollen. He has torn his Achilles tendon and is now waiting for an urgent appointment with physio and an orthopedic specialist. He was a little dejected and asked me, ‘What next?’ We didn’t have to wait long. The practice nurse rang to tell him that his blood sugar was raised and they were concerned about him developing early Diabetes! What next? Well now we know!!

I smile though all of this most of the time. I reassured him about the latest health worries and put the smile on my face and after giving him a hug, as much for me as for him, I tried to make light of it all. I again, reach for my mask.

David usually bounces back from anything, if he needed to and so do I. But recently, these past few days, I seem to have lost my bounce. This is not where we envisaged our lives to be now. I know ill-health hits us all but not all at the same time. I feel ashamed to say, I am feeling more vulnerable now than at the beginning. I have read on social media of others, partners who are finding it all just too much. I feel for them. Yes, sometimes life’s blows are too much.

Since coming to West Wales, in 2010, life has not been so good. Family ‘stuff’, health issues and the like have taken their toll. I watch my beloved husband and sometimes see him, just sitting. Either out on the verandah, or in the conservatory and looking, yes, sad. I ask if he is okay and he always says the same thing. He will reach for me and we will cuddle. ‘As long as we are together, Yes, I am okay’. It breaks my heart. I am letting him down by allowing myself these feelings. Letting him down by pretending all is well with me when inside I am falling apart. Sad doesn’t cut it. It is much bigger than sad. Am I still angry? Haven’t got the energy for that emotion today but need to get it back. Anger is my friend. I do things I need to do when angry. Angry is my bodyguard. Sometimes a useful emotion. But today the energy for that is not here.

David said last week, that he felt almost normal again. What is normal? I don’t know anymore. I can’t remember. I am happy he is doing well, in spite of the latest setbacks, he will be fine, I know. I smile, encourage him and lie like the proverbial and say I am okay. I paint on my smile, I keep it here for as long as I can. Try not to let it slip. I tell clients, it’s okay to cry. You don’t have to be strong all the time. But that’s for them. But I do. I have to be strong. Who says so? I do and always have. I can ‘pretend’, I did this throughout my painful childhood. Sometimes as a young mum. Put on a smile while my heart was breaking. I am well-practiced.

But sometimes, like now, whilst writing this blog, my mask slips and the tears are very close.

So when you see a smiling face. When someone says ‘I’m okay’. Sometimes they are not. In past blogs I have tried to give others permission to have these feelings. To be scared, afraid, helpless, angry and yes sad. So maybe some of my own advice??

Thanks for reading. x