Hello September

Sliding in to autumn and the weather is as hot and sunny as we could have wished for in June. Right now my days are filled with scrapbooking, painting, long walks in the sunshine and precious moments. There are some really good things happening, and there are some really terrible things. The contrast between the two is almost more than I can handle. Taking it day by day, moment by moment, is the only way through.

One step at a time

2011 wasn't a bad year, was it. Lots of happy times, good memories, achievements at work and in my personal life, lots of milestones on the road to good health.

I didn't really make resolutions for 2011. Instead of making vague aims like 'be more creative' I had specific goals I wanted to reach, and things I wanted to do. I'm very proud of myself that I managed to complete almost everything I wanted to, and a few other things besides.

And 2012? I find that I am more interested in setting goals than ever before. I used to swear that setting goals was merely a step on the inevitable road to disappointment. After all, if I set a goal and then don't achieve it, I'll be disappointed, right? And nobody wants that. Boo-freaking-hoo.

OMG was I wrong.

It started when I did a course at work that focused a lot on personal goal-setting and making five-year plans.    Brilliant - I had my life planned out. Then cancer came along and screwed all that up. Suddenly my daily goals were mostly about getting up and getting dressed, and I was too scared to think about anything more long-term than my next hospital appointment. And I realised that plans are good, but flexibility is essential. So now, I have long-term goals, and short-term goals, and things I want to do tomorrow...and they all sort of link together in a giant mental map that is my life. But I hope that it might be like one of those magic maps in Harry Potter, and every so often something new will appear.

I am still working on what these goals mean for 2012. There will definitely be some more studying, and more creativity. I hope that there will be more travel and more adventure. I'm pretty certain there are going to be lots of changes. And it's down to me to make that happen.

No such thing as late

One of the reasons I love doing courses with Shimelle is that there is zero pressure. It's up to me how much (or little) I do, and when I do it. So although Learn Something New Every Day is a class based in September, I don't get marked down for not finishing it until the end of October. (Actually, I don't get marked at all...remind me again why I do these classes if there isn't an A at the end of it?)

Towards the end of September I stopped making my pages every day, but I made notes of what I wanted to remember. Finally, over this weekend I managed to find time and energy to put those notes into my journal. Consider me finished.

I wouldn't be so mean as to put all of my pages in this blog post. I know I think blogging with pictures is best, but I think two dozen images is enough to put anyone off!

These are some of my favourite pages.

Mostly because I like the way the page is arranged, but some of them are my favourites because of the lessons I learned that day. This one, for example. I have taken on responsibility for looking after my Gran's garden (yes, I said garden. Don't laugh.) Her garden is all pots, and in the summer I plant out annuals for glorious colour. This is the first year I've put in bulbs for some spring flowers. It's been a bit of a challenge trying to do it in between surgeries and treatments, and I will admit to having had (quite a lot of) help, but it's such a rewarding thing to do.

In case you hadn't noticed, my family owns a craft shop. Some days when I am bored at home I go and sit behind the counter to keep them company. If I'm lucky I get to press buttons on the till.

The story of my September has a very different ending than I imagined it would. My last appointment with my oncologist was on 30/09/10. I had thought I would be doing a page about the horrors of my last chemo session. Instead - welcome to the rest of my life!

I am really pleased with how this has turned out. Just finishing it feels like such an achievement, but I think it's also an important record of my life for the future. It's easy to forget how hard this past year has been, but I think it's important to remember what I've been through so I can remind myself how much I've accomplished. And there have also been some really good moments, and I want to remember those too.

You can see the rest of my pages in my Flickr gallery.

It's all an illusion

Every so often I have a good moan about the things that annoy me.

First up: people who tell me I 'look well'. The problem with this is that I hear it, and underneath it I hear "so you can't possibly have been as ill as you say". I know that probably no-one means it like that. I know that actually, it doesn't matter what most people think because the people who matter know how ill I was. But seriously, it bugs the hell out of me. If I look well, it's probably down to the layers of makeup I'm wearing. Just say it's nice to see me, ok?

Secondly: people who assume that because I've finished treatment I'm all better now. Well. Obviously I am better than I was. I am not being sick, I am not having painful treatment, I am not recovering from major surgery. However. I am still tired most of the time. I am still weak and can't lift/carry heavy things. I have little energy and zero stamina. I still have to think about what I eat and how it will affect me. I am still dealing with things psychologically and it's more complicated than you will ever understand. So I am better than I was, but that's not the same as being completely well again.

Unfortunately, I seem to have become one of the second group myself. In my excitement about feeling better, I forgot that better is different from well. The panic that I used to feel before chemo: (I have to get everything done before I feel too ill to move) has gone into total overdrive:(I have cheated death and now I have to make the most of absolutely every minute). I feel like I should be going to every event, reading every book, visiting every person, experiencing everything as powerfully as possible. I am making endless lists for today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year. When I found myself trying to draft a life plan for the next 20 years, I realised maybe it was time to STOP.

In four days, it's my 27th birthday. One week from that will be the first anniversary of my diagnosis. I think this is probably a good time to slow myself down and do a little bit of reflecting before I carry on. I don't need to panic. I don't need to rush into anything. After all, I've been given the best present of all: more time.

This is probably going to make Mum cry

Everyone wants their mum when they feel ill. There's nothing like it - someone who knows exactly how to look after you, who can find just the right thing to say, who can make you feel better with just a hug.

I am fortunate beyond words that I have had my mum beside me, right from the minute I was diagnosed. I have other people too - my family might be small but it's very supportive - but there is something particularly special about being looked after by mum.

Mum works harder than anyone else I know, and it's all for other people. She looks after me, and my gran, and the rest of the family, and she runs a retail business with all the commitments that entails. She can't ask for time off, or delegate her work to others. She doesn't broadcast her worries, she just gets on with it. I am so proud of her for what she does, and the way she does it.

Thanks Mum. I couldn't have done it without you.

Time may change me

One of the weirdest aspects of my cancer treatment is that I haven't lost my hair. Which is good, obviously, because it keeps my ears warm. But I did have it cut very, very short because it's just easier to look after that way. And when you've been in hospital for two weeks and can't use the shower because it floods...trust me, you don't feel like washing your hair.

This page got me thinking, though. My life has changed so much in the last couple of years. In some respects, I'm sure I'm still the same as I always was. In other ways, I hardly recognise myself. I quite like the person I've turned into. I think I might keep her. The hair? I'm letting it grow back now.

Happy, happy, happy

It started last November. I needed something to do, something to keep me occupied through endless hours of sitting and waiting.
Mum had tried to teach me to crochet before, but I'd never really got the hang of it. I knit, but crochet somehow seemed...wrong. Where was the other needle? How could something that started as a chain end up as a square? Why are there so many loops?

Suddenly, this time it clicked. It made sense. And so, armed with a pattern for a basic granny square, I chose a few colours and got started.

I didn't have a plan, I just kept making squares. Eventually, I started to put them together in some kind of order. Random seemed like too much hard work, so I settled on a nice, regular, even pattern. And eventually I had a small blanket that kept my lap warm.

Small wasn't really enough. I had big ambitions for this blanket. So I added some more squares and kept going.

And so, 150 squares later - it's finished.
Eight balls (I think) of yarn.
Over 20,000 stitches.
Far more late nights than I care to admit.

Finishing this blanket - finishing anything makes me happy. I love being 'crafty' and I always have some project or other on the go, but it isn't often that I get the sense of completion that I have with this. When I started, I knew what I wanted but I didn't know how to get there. As my piles of squares grew and I started joining them together, I could see my idea emerging and I was so excited to continue. There were times when the chemo messed up my head so much that I couldn't even string two stitches together, but I kept going. There were times when I felt too sick, or too miserable, or was in too much pain to focus on this, but I didn't give up.

For me, this is more than just a simple crocheted blanket. It represents time spent with Mum, learning how to crochet. It represents frustration, perseverance and endurance. It will always remind me of a really horrible time in my life, but the lessons I've learned from this are all good:

Handmade makes me happy.
Learning new skills makes me happy.
Keep going and finish, because that makes me happy too.

Now...off to apply that last lesson to the many half-finished papercrafting items sitting on my shelf!