Agony

Charlotte and OliverCharlotte is not having a good time with this surgery at all. She is in a lot of pain, has tubes coming out of her, so can’t even get into a comfortable position, and is on a ward with other women who are also suffering post operative discomfort in various forms.

She is being given morphine to help her cope with the pain, but she has never been good with anaesthetics, they make her feel sick. So you can imagine that she is feeling very low, doesn’t want to see or talk to anyone because she doesn’t want to upset them.

All I can do, being stuck here in Poole, is to be there if she texts or calls, to concentrate my practice on chanting and praying for a good outcome to all this and to help Charlotte and the rest of the family stay positive. Several people have been in to see her, and that might help cheer her a little, but the sooner she is home and on the mend, the better.

Higher Priorities

The Final StepSpending the majority of the day waiting for news regarding Charlotte’s latest, and hopefully last operation, on her path to defeating cancer, puts life’s priorities into proper order. The reconstruction procedure sounds almost barbaric, and worse even than the operation to remove the cancerous tissues in the first place.

Having had Charlotte recovered and well after the chemotherapy had lulled me into a false sense of well-being. This final part of the jigsaw, albeit necessary to finish the job the oncology specialists started two years ago, shows yet again, just how brave Charlotte really has been.

The news from the hospital, news that took rather longer than expected, is that although she is rather poorly after the procedure, all went well, and she is expected to be able to come home in a few days. Actually, that will be the start of a long and painful period of recuperation, during which we can only offer her our full support, and chant and pray for a successful outcome.

Nam Myoho Renge Kyo

The Best Of Times

Cancer Research UKAnyone who has lived with cancer, or is related to someone who has, will know that it lurks in your mind just as much as it does in the sufferers body. Even after successful treatment, that niggling doubt remains, is it gone, or just hiding somewhere, ready to spring back up at some time?

Charlotte had a ‘routine’ scan last week, although in truth, there is no such thing following surgery, chemo and radiotherapy, and the results were promised yesterday. The whole family were on tenterhooks, waiting for the phone call from the hospital. So imagine the stress I was under when there was no news, so I chant, chant, and chant some more.

They say that ‘no news is good news’ but was all but climbing the walls waiting. There was still no news by the time I left work, so I was left in a quandary. Should I call Charlotte to find out? Had she received bad news, so didn’t want to call me? Going slowly crazy and preferring to know the score either way, I made the call.

‘Oh, I was just going to text you’ she says, ‘they haven’t called, though I did miss a call this afternoon’ … argh !!! Honestly, not knowing is far worse than knowing the worst. At least when you know, you can deal with the challenge. Talking it over, we managed to convince ourselves that the caller, who left no number or voicemail, was probably the hospital, and that made us feel a little better.

So imagine the collective sigh of relief, when just before 10:00 this morning, Charlotte sent a text that simply said ‘All clear :-)’ The very best news we could have had. So life continues to be a rollercoaster ride of emotions, and my practice, although being pushed hard, is holding up just fine.

Next Newer Entries