To Irene....a Celebration of Life

Last week, an English friend, here in our nearby village died suddenly, after enduring for months the rigours of medicine and health care. Upbeat and loving life till the end she left a sadness of a journey but shortly shared.I tried to support in my own small way with short posts and caring words. Hoping my own  illness and thoughts would somehow help. But as was inevitable she sadly died.

I write, its how I cope, its my voice in the shadows, my hope for a picture to make sense of my 'Grey Jigsaw'. So yesterday I penned a poem, which is here to share. Not a life lost, more a life well lived and a soul well loved.

Today was the funeral, a different very French affair; secular, practical, beautiful, even delicate in how it allowed us all to morn. She was there with us, alive in our eyes, touching our hearts and each remembering....a real celebration of her life.

So here it is,

To Irene…….

A friend but just a short while, a life full and fine.

I’ll never know you better, our lives will not entwine.

You made people smile, opened up their minds.

You reached out for hope, not close the blinds.

To strive for love, to begin anew.

With courage fine your ‘poppy’ blew.

In care and humour and forthright fair,

You engaged the world, not sit & stare.

Life by its braces, lived to the brim.

Laughter and love and follow that whim.

To all who remember and knew you so well.

A sadness, a sigh but stories to tell.

And we look on now at a friend too soon lost.

A friendship not blossomed, your life the cost.

But first days of autumn will now always be,

In memory of Irene, steadfast ‘poppy’.

And as the wind blows, those dancing flower heads

We’ll remember your smile alive in those ‘reds’.

And the colours of autumn will play in our heart

Testament to your life and love not apart.

We’ll smile at the beauty, remember your name.

Alive ever constant, the memories remain.

At stressful times....

I’m feeling kind of anxious, the thoughts run on and on

I’m scared, I’m tight, I’m breathless.

 It’s gone, It’s gone it’s gone!

The edge of fear and hope lies revolving in my head,

I can’t suspend  despair,  step towards the edge.

Most days I feel no different, I go from day to day.

Then something slides apart and I can’t see any way!

And others, all around me must surely see it true,

I’m lingering and I’m struggling to see the whole day through.

It may just be a word, or uncertainty of time,

How someone else conspires, there is no reason, rhyme.

Then all about is spinning, the fear engulfs my brain.

The light is getting darker, I cannot see again.

And each and all continue, the journey of their life.

Oblivious of fatefulness, continuing the strife.

Happy in the knowledge that they know not of fate.

And smiling blind & jointly; no hour, no sigh no date.

I feel my own deep morning, a chasm of belief.

With tears of loss and longing. The floundering of my grief.

I can’t withstand the sadness, the darkness or the pain.

But just to hold you near, to have you whole again.

Im lost, Im cold, Im empty and sadness rules my heart.

I’ll love you oh forever; together or apart.

So kiss me low and loving , a childs hand to hold.

As daylight edges onward I need must soon be bold.

To lift my head and mutter, no shout out to the sky.

I live and love today, this hope will never die.

Hold on, look up and steadfast, not gone, not gone, not gone.

Not scared or tight, nor breathless. But one and one and one!

Age and Understanding.....the Sleep of Reason

It’s been difficult being back in the UK, as my ninety year old mum is struggling! Now for those of you who have close bonds with their mothers this might be difficult to follow, but my mum is a gem, , I love her dearly, shes one of a kind and liked by all, but she has never been close  and she struggles with physical proximity. Reared as an only and over indulged child, she does not make friends easily, though she has a wonderful way in being with people, so long as they don’t get close. When folks tell me their mum was or is their best friend I cry a little inside, I’d love to have that relationship.

Through thick and thin I’ve stood by her. When she got divorced forty five years ago, I moved home and spent my savings taking her on her then only foreign holiday. She has spent many holidays since, many weeks and weekends staying with us. When I was working I tried to see her every week and help in any way I could. But families are families and, unlike my father (who thankfully is also still alive) who shows affection readily, and my best efforts, mum and I are not close.

Sadly she has several age associated ailments, is getting frail and also lives on her own, but her difficulty is not so much in what is happening to her, but more about her inability to accept change. She’s built skills over the years to cope with the day to day, but she’s never stepped away from the safe or ventured into her own mind or really considered her own responses. For mum, everything is resolvable by spending money, blaming the world, buying favours or trying to control everyone.

I love her to bits, but shes become unable to accept help, afraid and in  denial as to changes. It sounds harsh, but she has no time for others; my cancer journey, my birthday are an irrelevances, she turns away. All the time she insists she’s fine but is driving the family mad. On the one hand she doesn’t want to be alone, but won’t accept help coming in or any change. She is too afraid to sleep in her bed, but insiists there’s no problem. She will neither talk to or about her difficulties, but just wants it to go away. Like a child, she is unable to understand that things change, she rejects anything or anyone who tries to help.

So each meeting, face to face or by phone is an emotional roller coaster and takes my resolve down. The social worker thinks counselling would help, the medics suggest assistance support and the family give a mixture of too much attention or not enough structure. Meanwhile, in my limbo of life, always now aware that I must needs enjoy every moment, ‘live for the day’ I struggle to help, indeed to cope.

I read a story about a psychologist explaining a concept to an eager audience. She asked someone to hold a glass, at arms length, outstretched and, as the talk continued she kept topping the glass up with water until it was full. At the end of the talk the psychologist asked the audience what they thought of the demonstration and, thinking the concept was that of the ‘Stress Bucket’, which when constantly filled, overflows, they responded accordingly.

“No”, explained the speaker, “it’s not how much emotion, how much stress, how much anxiety, that’s the water. Its not your ability to cope or offload or de-stress, that’s the glass”.

“The problem is how long you have to hold the glass full of water at an arms length!”

For me that arms length is my life to date and, I need to put down that glass  a little and breathe…

A spoonful of sugar...

Its been a while writing, a sort of apathy mixed with fear. I've spent weeks in France in splendid health isolation; cushioned from the reality of the post Brexit UK and hospital appointments.
So it was with some trepidation we returned to the UK to see the oncologist. A regular three month appointment; the mark of time in my life, my very own health metronome. A long journey, an anxious, thoughtful time and then suddenly we were there, in the hospital.
Time stops...tick, tock, tick, tock...everything on hold again!

Now criticise the NHS all you may, I have nothing but praise and that day was no exception! Arriving ten minutes early we barely had chance to sit when we were called to the next 'Sub Wait'.  This time it was straight through and we found ourselves sitting in the consultants room trying to make light, be confident, stay focussed.

"Terrible events in Cannes?" she said, " Shock about Brexit" she said, but no medical reference, no examination, no studying of notes or  muttered conversations with colleagues. Finally, in confusion, Ron said "Well what happens now" and, she looked a little confused, as if suddenly caught in a an inappropriate situation. Then she smiled and said, " Well how are you?" "I'm good, feeling tired, but fine"" That's great " she replied...."

"Well what happens next?"  Ron repeated."Well" said the oncologist, "you can go back to France" "When?" we retorted, " Today if you want" she said, smiling and completely at ease. So there it was 'not symptomatic' therefore no scans, examinations, no drugs and no treatment...just smiles...amazing!

Now in our local French town of Ernee in the Pay de la Loire is a famous chocolatier; in fact a huge chocolate factory called 'Monbana'. Before leaving we had purchased some of their exclusive chocolates as a gift for the oncologist and her team. Now seemed the appropriate time to give them to her and so with returning smiles, this is what we did.

Her response surprised us even further, but to understand you must first know her name. My oncologist, beautiful, highly intelligent, efficient and highly talented in her field is call Mrs Bhana.

She smiled broadly at the gift and thanked us, saying how very personal and thoughtful this was. Because, she proceeded to explain, in her families origins, the family name was 'Bana' and we had brought these chocolates specifically for her. 'Mon' or 'My', 'Bana '...'Monbana'! Now that's the sort of wonderful coincidence that rarely occurs. We all ended up smiling broadly at each other; each content in this chocolate triangle.

Sometimes life, it seems, has a wonderful way of surprising you, what is it they say,' life being stranger than the script of a book'. There it was, life facing us full on, giving hope  and healing in that moment of humanity

Nobody panic, nobody panic...

My Facebook  profile today reminded me of a memory from two years ago on the 1st June 2014, it read:
"Lovely Sunday Morning, but hard to remain cheerful. My legs very swollen (lymph drainage post op) and severe nausea. Today might be one hour at a time".
Well I thought, look what determined did!

Just occasionally life lets me forget how hard it has been on this cancer journey and then reminds me , with avengence, just how hard it still is sometimes. There I was continuing the daily toil, looking forward to a holiday, from our holiday home to below the Loire and the hope of some sunshine, then reality came up.

Started with what seemed like a stomach upset, over a week became worse and finally, partly by anxiety and largely by my husbands insistence, a visit to the French GP. Now anyone who has had cancer and particularly when you know its not curable, will tell you, such events go from mild  concern to real raw worry in no time. So, French in hand and determined to play this down, its only a bug & not a reoccurrence, I visited the 'Medicine'.  She examined, asked about the rash (which I hadn't even noticed before) on my stomach & chest and then said it was vital I had further tests immediately! I thought meningitis, allergic reaction, but no she asserted she needed to check my blood platelet levels. Apparently if they drop dramatically, with my compromised immune system, it could be very dangerous and an indication of cancer spread!

OK what was it that Jonesy said in Dad's Army, "Nobody panic, nobody panic, I can do it myself!". The doctor telephoned & we were instructed to go to  Mayenne immediately for further tests. " Please to drive quickly, but not dangerously" madame le docteur instructed us as she sent us on our way with, 'bon courage', ringing in our ears. We were silent to start with, both deep in thought , commenting on traffic and the town, both in another place seeking strength and not believing.

Now for those who think the UK & French medical systems are very different I disagree. having been hospitalised three times in France and twice that in the UK I have only praise for both. The reaction times, the clarity of referral and the actions are equally praiseworthy in both. Maybe in France the wait is a little less but the follow up in the UK is deeper & longer; maybe the additional support is from the outset in the UK, but in France the time/ one to one care is great.

We arrived, I  had blood tests and had a phone message with the results on our answer phone from the GP, before we got back the 15 miles from Mayenne. Apparently all was well, my platelet levels were good and my bloods were, "parfait". So we went from uncertain, to intense concern, to OK, 'I'm unwell, but its just a stomach bug".

Hence we go on, day by day, just as we should looking forward and keeping ever hopeful. And life ticks on. We looked at each other, deep in our own worlds and wondered, wondered and smiled. Its hard to understand the level of reality and inevitability this fractured jigsaw journey can take, but its sure not dull.

 And a Facebook friend commented about my memory from 2014, '...you have been so brave and courageous. You are a beacon to us all!'. Its a lovely sentiment  but I've certainly never felt brave or courageous and as to my beacon, well it certainly flickered this week, but its now reset to light my way again.
This jigsaw started with confusion, no clear picture and just the corner pieces. I've just realised that its grown from a hundred pieces to an immeasurable number; so much, so many, so far and so detailed. And now I can share some of that with others, perhaps be a little piece in their jigsaw as they are in mine.

Ode to my Grandmother and Mother...the plight of so many women. With love...

I feel it coming, I want you close,
To shield and nurture. Goodness knows.

You held me tightly and went within,

To hold a baby, that's not a sin.

You tried so hard, so cruel your fate.

Alone & lonesome. No friend , no mate.

The world conspired. Generations too.

You were not wanted, in that way true.

A Guardsman skilful, your pity took.

In lace & laughter, your world he shook. 

Then left you loveless, to fend & fear.

A child was taken. That price too dear!

T'was years later , you found your soul.

Who loved you truly and all was whole.

But babies change you. They scar and touch.

You could not give love. You'd lost so much!

And lonely child, you raised apart.

She had no friends, she stood apart.

And learned full circle, when her time came.

She couldn't cope. It was the same!

She wanted badly, she tried so hard.

But separation and bonds a shard.

Doomed maybe always, though love and care.

This damaged twosome, felt life's despair.

When love is lost and no one sees,

The pain & crying. "Just help me please".

And then you held this babe of mine.

Your heart was whole. You'd found your time.

Now he has grown and babe no more.

And lost alone, you help implore.

Stop just one minute. Be still don't cry.

I love you mother and I will try.

I cannot stop the tick of time.

To each allotted. No reason, rhyme.

But I can help you not to fear.

Be still and calm now. Comfort near.

Over time and Inspiriation

My Facebook account told me yesterday that it was two years ago that I had the third of my four cancer operations and how I then hoped it would all be over with. Little did I know then that this was merely the beginning and that I'd sit here two years on ,grateful but continuing the daily challenge, that is my life.

And every one of those intervening days I have found inspiration from some one or something. I've not always been upbeat, my own harsh internal realism makes it impossible for me to hide and the world can be cruelly damming. Yet through my journey so many and so much has lifted me up and continues to thrill my heart & brighten my day. From the flowers of spring and  the messages from friends to the continuous and ever deep positivity and love of my husband and family...pure inspiration, I thank you

And recently  I was reminded by a new inspiration, the cancer journey of others; some further along than me and some just starting that rocky road, but all inspiring. Its hard to recall the harsh physical realities of Chemo, not that you can't remember, but that your brain screens out the reality, shuts off the overwhelming effects of being slowly but effectively cured ,but poisoned! So in talking to two neighbours in France(one English & one French), both undergoing chemo for breast cancer. I was reinspired by their  human resilience and reminded that the steps towards the goal have to sometimes be very small.

For one lady it was getting the energy to achieve the smallest task and the psychological courage to go out and about and for the other, an elderly farmers wife, it was about not doing as many tasks and looking after herself. Two different ages, natioanlities, outlook and  journeys, but their determination to lift their heads and walk on was and is inspiring. Then there are the messages, sent through social media,from an acquaintance whose husband, a in his forties ,has an embolism & bleed in his brain and is in hospital in an induced coma.

Her journey is different but she continues a forty mile trip daily to sit by his bedside & talk to him. Friends, relatives and neighbours I understand are helping, stepping in to support in big & little ways, it restores your faith in human nature. With all that is bad and evil in this world  close in we step towards each other we are inspired to help.

So yesterday my elderly French neighbour, with little hair and grey palour, took the arm I offered and slowly walked up the randonne. She was tired, she said, the chemo is difficult she said, but look around you the spring flowers are all here and summer is just close. Do you have further treatment she asked me, I explained I return every three months and never know what the bloods and scans will show, but I'm good. Her old eyes turned to me and she smiled;  we must always remember, whatever the world brings, life is good she said. "Regarde les fleurs, la soleil; la vie ce belle".

I couldn't agree more!

And thank you all who give me that personal inspiration...

Three month normality, but you don't have to read this...

I haven't written my cancer blog for some months. Its not because I have nothing to say or that I have lost interest in the world, more that I feel that a state of 'normality' has settled.

You don't usually, in your daily life, feel the need to write your thoughts, examine your emotions or reassess your goals. What you do and think is 'normal', you just go on, but on the cancer journey you question everything & all is in turmoil, nothing is stable.
However for the last couple of months, in terms of cancer, all has been 'normal'.

Life's ups and downs have continued and time taken with illness in the family and elderly parents have rushed in to fill the void left by 'normality', taken the time. And so it has given me time to reflect, to dare to look back and to wonder what next, how can I use this experience.

Several months ago deep into the radiology, an acquaintance said to a friend, they were 'sick of hearing about cancer' and questioned why 'people need to air it all'. My reply and that of my friend was, well you don't have to read it. This is my 'Diagnosis Journal', the jigsaw pieces are my life and mine alone. It saddens me that fear or spite, or whatever causes such a reaction can be so harmful. These words are for me and reach out for me, if they entertain, arouse emotion or empathy along the way so be it, but they are mine!

But it made me stop and think about writing. Like many a creative person I'm sure I questioned whether this was self indulgent and, by merit of it being a medical journal somewhat attention seeking...a sort of literary Munchausen Syndrome? Then I came to the rational decision that if 'existing, loving, caring enduring, fearing, suffering, overcoming, experiencing' and 'living' were all 'normal', as indeed we all know them to be, writing them is merely an expression of that human condition. I think the person who said this and others who shy from me have their own problems and my words or actions on this cancer journey ignite their fear.


So I'm back. Back to my three month interim 'normal'. Back to my inadequacies and failings , back to my strengths and uncertain abilities and most important back in France. And I think this reflective time has given me a very special gift, I can try to give to others a little of the care & love that has been given to me.

Keep learning. Brittany v Bretagne

I write two very different blogs; this one, 'French Chalk',  about my experiences in France, in particular in relation to teaching & education, and the other ' The Grey Jigsaw', about my personal journey through & with cancer.

These are quite disparate blogs, but just once in a while the two overlap and what occurs in one is relevant and applies in the other. And his occurred this week on a visit to one of my cousins and his wife, who now live permanently in Brittany, France.

Now to explain I have to give you some background, if you like set the scene. This cousin is one of two brothers, who I am close to from my home town of Gosport in Hampshire and both brothers now own property in Brittany. Starting with a big renovation job of a country cottage over years and now a further renovation of a village town house. They have worked together, played together and holidayed together and in 2015 the eldest one decided to settle permanently in France.

Now this is a big move for anyone, with the arrangements, the legal stuff, the systems, the language and the culture, but for my cousin  and his wife this was an even bigger step as he is diagnosed with Parkinson's and she has longstanding health problems.

We arrived for our stay excited but unsure how they would be coping, its a tall order to take such a big step and challenge yourself, but what an amazing thing they have done. The house is a delight and made so homely, the plans are afoot for work and they are slowly but surely getting embedded in the local community; learning French and joining groups, it great to see!

We visited the area and its delights; had coffee in it village bars, ate in a local restaurant and puzzled at the signs written dually  in French & Breton. We had three days of pleasure in a very different part of France, a real holiday on holiday, it was lovely.

So what has this to do with education or cancer, well its all about determination and  belief. They have not sat back and thought , 'we can't do anything', ' we have to just put up with what life has dealt', no they are up and fighting. Its not easy, but they are taking on a new life and moving forward, brilliant. They are not accepting the limitations, they are seeking solutions and adapting to a new way of being.

Children learn & accept they won't get it all right, but keep trying. They immerse themselves in what needs to be done, seek solutions and eagerly engage in change. There is a fundamental conflict underlying learning; starting with not understanding and driven by and desire to comprehend, to reach stasis. The old adage that, 'conflict causes change'' is the leading reason we are motivated to learn or retract from learning. We are curious, want to conform, mature  or understand, solve a problem or feel an emotion, but all too often we let this drive stall and seek to withdraw. The young of all kinds are  endlessly drawn on, continually curious and want to grow, they are hard wired to learn.

So how great to see my cousin and his wife, despite all the problems and strains choosing to grow, to step out and question the world, make a new life, progress.
What's that other adage, oh yes........If you are not moving forward you are going backwards. And as my cousin said, "Its not me , its everyone else that's moving". Never too late to learn, we've just re-met a couple who are living proof of this.They say,'you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends', and we are proud to call my Brittany cousins both.
Merci mes amis

Glass bridges and gentle footsteps.

Recently I viewed an image on social media of a bridge in China; located in Hunan Province it is some  984 feet long &  spans a crevasse some 590 feet deep. Apparently the longest of its kind, what makes this bridge amazing is that the floor is made of glass; inch thick yes, but clear glass! So not surprisingly its called 'Brave Men's Bridge'.

Can you imagine the effect this has on people, they have to fight their natural instincts & overcome deeply held fears, just to cross it. Much like cancer I thought except no one forces them to endure it, but they do have a choice. And like cancer also the  resulting behaviour I believe is much the same.

Some choose to be led across, others freeze part way, some crawl and there are even those that close their eyes in order to across. Similarly, with the dreaded C we all react differently. For those enduring it there is no choice about having it, the only choice is how you deal with it. Do you reach out to others, take a steady hand or trust in others knowledge or do you set out alone only to freeze part way through the journey. Some move slowly, measured, hoping that their actions will alter the outcome. Still also some close their eyes and hope the fear will go away and that the terror will subside if they don't look. "I'm fine everything is normal", for them is it  pretence or self preservation?

Similarly those who support must find a way to react; head on brazen it out, avoid and just don't talk or react to it, go slowly and hope that makes the subject easier to deal with...all strategies  to cope.

 I don't judge any of  the reactions, we are each individuals and each has to find our own way over that bridge. The commonality is the journey, not the bridge, what we do about it defines who we are and that is, I believe, true of our whole lives.

As for me,  I'm someone who would avoid such a real bridge. I hate the theme park rides, bungee jumps or parachute drops indeed shudder at the thought of man made thrills. I only ever seek self controlled  danger like windsurfing, skiing and motor biking, the joy is in surmounting the fear and enjoying the ride! So I face my own glass bridge unwillingly, but my path is to look ahead, beyond the fear and fix my gaze on the end of that bridge. I'm not sight seeing along the way, I am trying to help and explain to others how it is, but I intent on getting to the other side and words help me do that.

Perhaps the thing that makes man attempt daring deeds, have great adventures or take a risk on crossing a glass bridge, is the feeling of exhilaration when then achieve that challenge, when the get to their goal and the joy success. My fear is overcome by hope. #

I hope not too falter in despair or freeze in denial, but to lift my gaze, breath in the clear air and share in the joy that is hope. After all life is one hell of an experience and hope lifts the spirits and helps us see the new day.