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13 September 2010


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Now you'll have to remember to take in complementary nightwear...xxx

I was just reading yesterday about how to tell your colour 'season' by whether the veins showing through you skin are blue (cool palate) or green (warm). Mine or blue-green, which is no help at all. Isn't it strange how the things we think about can range so vastly between significant and trifling?

Oh, Blue Footed Booby made me smile, as I am sure it did you...Warm thoughts blue footing their way to you from me...

dont worry if you find you pee a delicate shade of blue for several days too, I did, amused me no end!

I don't know whether the evidence of your surgery not being immediately visible is a good or bad thing. One of mine was very obvious and left extensive scarring that needed plastic surgery later. Funnily enough it seemed to distress others more than me, I was just relieved to be there! The anticipation is the worst bit, all that mulling and over active imagining. When you get there and the routine kicks in I'm sure you'll feel more in control. My one big regret is that I took in a towelling dressing gown (old house...)and the ward was like a sauna.

My heart goes out to you and thoughts are with you. Just a year ago I had the over 50 first mammogram and there it was - a lump. I was shocked and terrified beyond anything I`d ever felt before. More tests then surgery was organised. I`m pleased to say that the lump did turn out to be innocent but those 2 months changed my life completely. I think I used to take life/good health for granted before, it certainly made me think again just how precious each day is. Very best wishes. Alicia x x x

Goodness me, thank you all so much for those wonderful comments. All those stories . . .

It is making a huge difference to me.

Joni has a song for you : ' Blue, here is a shell for you Inside you'll hear a sigh A foggy lullaby There is your song from me.
You 've got to keep thinking You can make it through these waves' with a little poetic re-arranging, which I am sure Joni wont mind. Thinking of you

'Blue footed booby' is one of those pleasing names that sounds like an insult. I came across another wonderful one the other day and have forgotten it, which isn't much help...my memory is full of holes since my head injury (at least, that's my excuse). A lateral jump: a name which sounds not like an insult, but like a splendid swear word. It's a wine from Sicily, and if you shout its name with enough vim it is very cathartic: 'DUCA DI SALAPARUTA!!'

I'm sure you could do with using that sometimes at the moment. Hope it helps.

I love the combination of honesty, wit and wariness in your posts at present. And, being the mother of such a daughter, I am delighted you have each other in your lives. Rooting for you.

Went through the same earlier this year. All went very smoothly and everyone concerned was kind and caring......really hope the same goes for you.

Thinking positive thoughts for a speedy recovery - hope you are doing better and are at home now!

I hope the blues are gone and you're feeling OK. Thinking of you.

My goodness - how on earth have I missed all this?? Well, I know how - I've been slacking on the blogging circuit, that's how. I haven't been visiting many people, only answering comments, because I've been busy with stuff, but I'm sorry not to have been here for the Massive Inconvenience annoucement.

Many hugs and much applause for you journey and your courage. I'm sure the blue/green tinge will suit you beautifully. Wear pink, which will not only go very nicely with it (a little glitter here and there and you'll look like a fairy princess) but will also carry the theme forward!

I'm sure plenty of people have already told you stories of survivors, but I've known four: the lady at the post office, my SIL, one of my neighbours (around your age), and my cousin Lynda. All of these people have now survived longer than the 'magic' five years and are all doing well will no relapses or problems - except the post office lady who might well be doing all of those things but who moved away. Actually, I don't know anyone who got the dreaded 'breast cancer' diagnosis and did NOT survive and do well.

Enjoyed discovering your blog. Sorry to hear about the cancer junk. I am going through it myself as you know from visiting my blog. (Thanks again!) Hope you are not stressing out too much. Keep us updatded. Besides cancer, we have the good daughter connection as well as the dog one! My best to you.

I did not actually turn blue, which didn't bother me. They were quite a cheerful out of the fact that I'd be urinating blue. In fact, they were so cheerful about it that I felt for a second like we were all smurfs, as if any moment, we'd be breaking into the la la la la la la song. I also did not like feeling as if I had no choice at all but to be laughing too. I'm not much of a crier, but I did want the option of being able to quietly digest yet another piece of surprising news as I stepped out into that strange, strange place called Cancerland. But, I was dragged along, no choice, to laugh at the thought of peeing bright blue.

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Thought for life

  • The House of Breath, William Goyen
    We are the carriers of lives and legends - who knows the unseen frescoes on the private walls of the skull?

Thinking about . . .

  • Daniel Klein, Travels with Epicurus
    I too listen to music more and more. Throughout my life, music has stirred me more than any other art form, and now, in old age, I find myself listening to it almost every evening, usually alone, for hours at a time.
  • Julia Blackburn, Thin Paths
    I began writing because I liked to write things down. I learnt foreign languages because they seemed to enter my head by a process of osmosis.
  • Joan Bakewell, Stop the Clocks
    I live contentedly alone. It's better that way and I am often thoughtful about what has been and what might have been. There are many like me.
  • Patti Smith, M Train
    Oh to be reborn within the pages of a book.
  • Patti Smith, M Train
    Why is it that we lose the things we love, and things cavalier cling to us and will be the measure of our worth after we’re gone?
  • Judith Kerr, Observer Magazine, 22 November 2015
    I don't believe in God. I find it much easier to believe in ancestors. I like to imagine they are pointing us in the right direction.

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