A picture which has brought me joy.

 I haven't mentioned Jack much recently but this picture has brought me great joy.

He's ringing the bell at the cancer unit to celebrate coming to the end of his radiotherapy treatment.  

And he's coming to sort my garden next week.  Bacon butties and savoury ducks planned.

My sister

 One of the most important things I have done during these months of isolation has been to scan all my old photographs.  It wasn't a quick job: apart from my own pictures I had collections which had belonged to my Grandmother, my Mother, and my only sister, Gillian.

I'm nearly nine years younger than Gillian and we were never particularly close.  She went away to college when I was only nine and although she came home for holidays and for her first year of teaching, things were never the same.  She married and had a son.  Sadly she was later divorced and had to make her own independent life again.

Back in 2000 she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and was very ill,.  She spent a week on life support, a further week in intensive care and then a week in hospital before coming to stay with me to give her chance to recover.  For the next six months she lived with me part-time while she had chemotherapy but she managed to get better.   As she realised that she might have less years ahead of her than she had hoped, she decided to fulfil a few ambitions.

The first of these was to see whales in their natural habitat!  Our Mother was very generous and paid for me to go with my sister on a cruise from Vancouver up the coast of Alaska as Gillian could not have managed alone. (She was very disabled due to various other conditions.)   We saw whales!  We also had a whale of a time!

Gillian and I aboard Independence of the Seas, 2000

Gillian had cancer twice more.  The first was breast cancer which was caught very early and the problem was resolved by surgery alone.  The second, sadly, was a secondary from the original ovarian cancer and was incurable so I moved in with her for nearly a year to care for her.   It was a year when we were closer than ever we had been in our lives.

Gillian did one very important, but very sad, thing for me.  Because she got ovarian cancer (as did two of my cousins), I had genetic screening.  It was discovered that I have a faulty BRCA2 gene so I had surgery to minimise my cancer risk.  I will never know if cancer would have killed me, but I do know that I have far greater peace of mind than I would otherwise have had.  I am two years older than she was when she died.

Thank you, Big Sister

Thank you, NHS

I don't think there has ever been a year when people have said, "Thank you, NHS" more frequently.  Our health service has responded magnificently to the Covid crisis.  But there are more illnesses than "just" covid making demands on the medics.  I've just been making my own demands.

I have a faulty gene which means that I have a very high chance of developing breast or ovarian cancer.  Several years ago I had bilateral mastectomy and an oophorectomy to minimise my risk but I still have a risk.  I check my "breasts" regularly which isn't easy as the surgery left me with very lumpy pseudo-breasts.  Last month I felt a lump and my bra became very uncomfortable.  I contacted our local breast care service (I'm allowed to bypass the GP) and made an urgent appointment.  Before I could go in my breast started to "weep".

Last week I had a clinical examination, a mammogram and an ultrasound scan and samples were taken for examination.  Today I have the all-clear.  My lump was a cyst which had burst harmlessly.

Thank you

Sad News

I feel unbelievably sad today.  My dear friend Jack's wife died of cancer yesterday.  I have asked Jack's permission to write this post.  I can't visit him so this is my virtual hug for him and his family.

Mr and Mrs Jack were married for over fifty one years.  They were both from the same small Lincolnshire village so I think she was a hero as she knew perfectly well what she was taking on.  Our Jack had a reputation for being a "bit of a one" as we say in this part of the world. 

She was one of  several sisters and her sisters remained very important in her life even though they all moved from the area.  Mr and Mrs Jack settled down as Jack was a farm worker and they always lived with fifteen miles of their home village.  She was really pleased when her granddaughter told her just a few weeks ago that she and her husband and child were going back to live in that village.

Mr and Mrs Jack had two children. a boy and a girl.  Mrs Jack was an excellent family manager and ran a great home for the family to come back to.  When the children got bigger she went out to work but she took pride in running a beautiful home.  She also kept Jack in order - no mean feat!  Some time ago Jack (when he had been ill) wrote , "My wife has been brilliant .  I just couldn't have managed without her.   She's had to do everything: cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, putting the rubbish out, and taking our little dog for walks.  . . .   I say to all husbands, "Treasure, treat and look after your missis: they expect so little in return."  What a tribute!

I've always been made very welcome in their home and on a visit last year I had the privilege of blessing their first great grandchild.  Mr and Mrs Jack had three grandchildren who have been the joy of these last few years.  Such family events have been special as they have known for quite a while that she would not recover from this illness.

The months since her diagnosis have inevitably been difficult but as always Mrs Jack has organised her family.  They've made Christmas extra special, they've sorted birthdays and they have visited.  Visiting in a time of corona virus has been difficult and they have often had to use mobile phones and talk whilst looking at each other through windows.  I cannot begin to imagine how hard it has been.

And neither can I imagine how hard it is for Jack, a sweet and loving man, to go through this dreadful time all on his own.  Jack, I promise that as soon as I can I will come and given you a real hug.  S*d this virus!  Until then I will be having a word with The Boss.  Take care.  Love from The Vicar

Note:- Jack will be able to read your comments but not reply.

So Many Blessings!

May each of you have a joyful and blessed Easter!


My own Easter is truly blessed. 

Last Sunday I came home from church and found these on my doorstep.  My dear friend Clare had come home from Holland n the overnight ferry and brought them back for me!  (Sorry, they've now gone a bit floppy.)

On Tuesday I came home and found these on my doorstep.  My friend Sarah had called on her way somewhere else and had left them for me.

On Thursday postie brought these.  My friend in Dorset had sent them for me.

Postie also brought me a very important letter.  Several weeks ago I went to the doctor as I had concerns about my health.  I had blood tests and a colonoscopy and the letter was to confirm that I am clear of cancer. 

Truly, I am most richly blessed. 

A heart-stopping moment

Why is that all cancer checks are so inelegant?  For cervical cancer it involves a doctor armed with the Eiffel Tower.  Bowel cancer screening is in the privacy of one's home but that's the only thing to be said in its favour.  And mammograms involve standing in weird positions while one's boobs are crushed in a vice.

I am the unfortunate possessor of the duff BRCA2 gene which means that my lifetime risk of breast cancer and ovarian cancer is appallingly high so a few years ago my ovaries and boobs were removed to reduce the risk.   However, it only reduces the risk - it doesn't take it away altogether so every year I attend our local hospital for screening.  A few weeks ago I had a mammogram and yesterday I went for my annual clinical examination.

I wasn't particularly worried until the doctor said, "Can you just feel here and check your breast".  I felt and I checked and there was a pea-sized lump which I'd never noticed before.  A heart stopping moment indeed.  Anyway, I was sent immediately for an ultrasound examination and everything was pronounced hunky dory.  A bit of scar tissue was responsible for my lump.  

And suddenly the indignity no longer mattered.  Thanks to NHS screening I am still safe.  And my life can go on as normal

It's been a good week

Actually, most of my weeks are good weeks but this week I'm feeling reflective and wanted to share it.

I gave in and agreed to take two Harvest Festivals.  Both went OK.  I had a little giggle at at myself when the warden was preparing the produce to take to pensioners and asked me if I would like something.  I was about to say, "But it's for old people" then remembered that I'm a pensioner and gratefully accepted a couple of potatoes to bake and have with cheese and butter. 

I've been for my annual mammogram.  I have a high risk of breast cancer (80% risk I am told) so had a mastectomy a few years ago but I still have to go for check-ups.  Mammograms are no picnic for anyone but post mastectomy they are often excruciating but this time it wasn't too bad.  I've got a clinical examination in a couple of weeks but right now I'd like to say thank you to everyone who fund raises for cancer research.  Because of you my genetic risk has been identified and I am offered monitoring to protect myself.

I had a small competition win, this time with the date of birth lotto.  Just £10 but very nice.  (The link is possibly my referral link.  I can't check.  Sorry about that.)

A couple of weeks ago I was able to share some of my good fortune with a bloggy friend by sending her some books I had won in a another competition and when I got back from the mammogram there was a letter from her.  I always get excited at real snail-mail and in this letter was this lovely Harris tweed needlecase.  Thank you, Mama!  (Quite apart from pretty needlecases she's got a great idea for soap for children.  Take a look.)

Update on my last post

.  My smile is now a beam!

Cancer

My sister and two of my cousins died from ovarian cancers which indicated that there might be a problem.  I was therefore tested and found to have the faulty BRCA 2 gene, and it was calculated that I had an eighty per cent chance of The Big C in the form of either ovarian cancer or breast cancer.

As soon as I had the genetic results I had an oophrectomy (removal of the ovaries) but it was less easy to make a decision about my breasts so although I was in full panic mode I delayed for about eighteen months.  I had the full support of the consultant who saw me several times in that period, each time examining me and offering enhanced screening or lifelong tamoxifen as alternatives to surgery.

However, an eighty per cent risk felt like, "Would you prefer your mastectomy with or without chemotherapy?" and eventually I decided to go ahead.  I had a so-called "Goldilocks mastectomy" removing not too much, not too little but just right.  This meant that I had reconstruction using the remaining tissue and I need neither implants nor an external prosthesis.  

Today I am going for my annual check, a procedure I am not looking forward to as mammograms are now even more uncomfortable than before.  (Oh yes, ladies, it is possible for them to get worse!)  I am pretty confident that I shall come out with a smile on my face.

But before I go to the hospital I shall be meeting up with a cousin who is expecting to start chemotherapy today for a (non BRCA2 linked) cancer.  

And I am so grateful to the wonderful women who run the Race for Life.  If you are one of them, thank you.  Through you many of my fears have been put behind me.

Thank you.

Note for non UK readers.  Race for life is a national funding campaign for cancer research.  Sponsored 5k runs are held all over the country and are mostly run by women wearing pink.