So I say ‘Thank you for the music’

I don’t think I’m alone with this one but isn’t it amazing how much music is such a huge part of our lives.
I went out last week for the first time since my op to see a film about Depeche Mode and their Spirits in the Forest tour. It follows a group of fans from all over the world who share a common love of the band. There was a bit in the film and I’m not quoting exactly that referred to being at a live concert of a band you love like a form of spirituality. Everyone there is a believer and they are there to worship together. **Apologies if this offends any deeply religious people** but it really got me thinking about music and how it is interwoven in our lives.
I’ve been watching a lot of tv during my enforced house arrest, I mean during my recovery but the next day I didn’t put the box on but played the extensive Depeche Mode catalogue. It really cheered me up and singing along loudly and badly was great therapy. Which is weird because I know they aren’t to everyone’s taste and my daughters partner calls them Depressive Mode. Nonetheless uplifted was exactly  how I felt.
I have been around music as long as I can remember. My family didn’t play instruments or anything although my sister does sing. My folks loved pop music of the time. Some of my earliest memories are of us all listening to songs and singing along gathered around the radiogram. Here I must give a special mention to the radiogram. It was actually I think one of the first music centres of its kind and my dad made it. It was probably the size of an ottoman or small sideboard and on legs. It looked wooden but I think it might have been wood covered in a teak looking formica and it had legs. The lid lifted up and there were built in speakers, a record turntable, a radio and a reel to reel tape recorder. I seem to remember you had to switch it on for it to warm up and it would hum. We even recorded ourselves singing along to the songs using a plug in microphone and some of those recording survive today even though poor quality. I think my dad kind of invented karaoke right there but didn’t know it. There were tunes from Perry Como, Cilla Black, Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jim Reeves, Georgie Fame, Middle of the Road and the Archie’s to name a few. There was a group called Second City Sounds from Brum surprisingly who they used to follow too. Hard to find much on them these days but apparently they won Opportunity Knocks 6 times in a row. (For my younger readers think Pop Idol or X Factor) It’s a tradition that’s stood the test of time and when all the family gather at Christmas we always have a karaoke song and dance session.
My sister was also a big influence musically as she is nine years older than me. We shared a bedroom before she went off to Uni and some of her tastes became mine such as Roxy Music and David Bowie. Others I wasn’t so keen on and I think Pink Floyd- Darker Side of the Moon and a group called the Groundhogs may have mentally scarred me for life.
Then there was my grandad. He came to live with us when I was 5 until his death when I was 17. He loved classical music and would play it really loud. I wasnt keen on the operatic ones but could relate to things like Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake or Holst’s planets. This is probably the best memory of have of my grandad.
I also had a headmaster at junior school who played us classical music in morning assembly. I can’t remember his name but I remember the music. One piece was Mendelssohn’s Hebrides (Fingals cave) he told us how the music portrayed the sea. He made up words to the music saying that the opening sounds like ‘how lovely the sea is’ I still sing it now when I hear it. There began foundations of a love of all types of music and also words I think.
My music taste is eclectic I will give you that but also heavily influenced aside from those mentioned already, by my formative years of late seventies and early eighties. My first true love was ABBA. Although not my first single purchase but my second. The first being ‘Don’t go breaking my heart’ by Elton John and Kiki Dee. Prior to that there had been dabbles with the Glitterband (less said there the better) and David Essex but ABBA I loved. Mamma Mia being my second single purchase and first album purchase of Arrival. I loved back then how albums has an insert with the words to the tracks. I used to learn them all by heart. Again I can remember most to this day but can’t remember where I put my phone. I also need to mention here magazines. I used to wait for the newsagents to open to get my copy of Smash Hits and before that Disco 45 which was a bit weird in that it was like a newspaper but in colour whereas Smash Hits was all beautiful  glossy paper with centre spread posters which I blutacked to my bedroom wall. Again these were scrutinised and shared at school more than any academic text book.
I started listening to John Peel’s radio show late at night recording tracks onto my Decca tape recorder. This began to broaden my music taste and an interest in indie music began to germinate.
I had a little punk phase and was really into Sham 69. Then came Gary Numan and the start of going to live gigs. Duran Duran followed Depeche Mode, Japan, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Human League to name a few. I had really found my people. Dressing up and voguing- we didn’t call it that back then we just called it dancing ‘new romantic style’. A special mention here also to Kate Bush and big hair.
There are so many songs out there in the world and I can associate many of them to times, events, people and feelings. I’m sure you can too. Like a snap shot in time evoking memories both happy and sad. So that’s why I close as I started quoting the inimitable ABBA, by saying ‘Thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing, thanks for all the joy they’re bringing. Who can live without it I ask you how can it be, without a song or a dance what are we..thank you for the music for giving it to me.’

Hot Stuff

This is me at the moment. Not wanting to disappoint those of you who don't know me and are currently conjuring up images of supermodels and the like. I’m less of the Kylie Jenner more of the Kathy Burke. (To be honest I love Kathy Burke so I’d rather be her anytime) but I digress. The hot stuff reference - as a result of my recent cancer diagnosis  I have had to stop taking my hrt. It hasn’t been too bad so far and to be honest I’ve had a few other things going on to distract me. Then the hot flushes started. The best way I can think of to describe it is imagine you are a flask being filled up with boiling water. Then think about the heat of the water rising from the base, so your feet, to the rim, your head. You literally feel like steam is going to come out of your ears. You can see the colour rising along with the heat too. Even the back of your hair gets wet from the sweat, you have to strip off, fan yourself and then it passes. It really is the most bizarre thing. If you have ever been really embarrassed and blushed - think of that and triple it in intensity and you are about there. When you get them in bed it’s especially frustrating. I’m having to sleep in a post op support bra currently so complete stripping off isn’t possible but I do pity my poor hubby. They do say love is blind and at the moment it needs to be.
I am covered in bruises, have stitches and most annoyingly look like I work down a mine because the sticky stuff from my wound dressings is black. Add that to a peculiarly weird shaped and swollen boob, butchered armpit, my makeshift haircut, the fact I can’t wear deodorant and  a range of comfies and I’m looking (and smelling) good! 😂
I do though, have fabulous nails. A very kind friend and mobile nail technician popped in and gave me some gorgeous sparkly nails. It’s the little things that make you feel better. I have also been overwhelmed by the cards, flowers, gifts and messages of support I have received from friends, colleagues and family. I am humbled and despite of everything I’ve whinged about above, blessed.

Post op - As the dust settles

In the wee small hours of the morning.. how does that song go? Is there anything worse than being tired and not being able to sleep? Especially when my beloved is snoring like a warthog beside me.  I’ve just re-read that of course there are worse things but you know what I mean. Apologies in advance for my nocturnal wittering.
Struggling to get comfy enough to sleep at the moment. Apparently it’s common but the lumpectomy site isn’t giving me as much jip as the lymph node biopsy under the armpit which is really sore.
I’ve tried a combination of up to three pillows and a v cushion. The drugs don’t work. So have given in and gone to the one thing guaranteed to interrupt with your sleep patterns - my iPad. I’ve been overwhelmed and humbled by all my messages of support since I went public. Truly amazing and also to hear so many have walked a similar path.
So taking the advice of a friend I have gone for the retail therapy route this pre-morning. I know it’s killing small business but isn’t online shopping just the best.  I’ve ordered a new sleep bra and post op bra and a couple of comfy outfits plus boots. I mean it’s definitely boots season.

I also want to take a few moments to talk about my daughter, Beth so please indulge me. My beautiful, talented and caring daughter. She lacks confidence at times but she is simply a darling and has a talent for looking after people. So the roles, for a little while, have become reversed. I know she’s not a baby, she’s a young woman but she will always be my baby. However she has been looking after me (as well as Bert) She has changed my dressings, administered my injections and cooked my dinner. All whilst not feeling top form herself. I am blessed to have her.
On a similar theme a mention to my folks. Both have not been in the best of health recently and I have been having to care for them. They like to be independent so it doesn’t sit easy with them. They were very upset when they found out about the cancer but also cross that I hasn’t shared it with them as soon as I could have. I hadn’t wanted to spoil their 65th wedding celebrations and anyway I didn’t feel I’ll or have any symptoms. Anyway wild horses would have not kept them away from me yesterday even though they are both walking wounded. Mom with her broken collarbone was wanting to do things for me and dad, had dreamt that I was calling for him. Turned out it was mom snoring but bless him all the same.
Finally a special mention to my husband. A Colleague rang him yesterday as he had heard the news. His wife had gone through similar so he rang to ask how he was, as he said, everyone asked how my wife was and never me. I know its old fashioned but he sees himself as my protector and he can’t from this. He is a big softie so I know this is hard on him too, especially when I am in pain. He gets the broken sleep too.
This evil bubble doesn’t just affect the person, it’s affects all around you. The thing is we grew up in a world where cancer was such a dirty word. Treatment and prognosis have moved on in leaps and bounds. Yes it still claims it’s victims, I have lost several good friends but it’s is more and more treatable and survivable. As my journey continues I do wonder about the mental scars it will leave but as my antidote I can always fall back on the shopping. There is always shopping.

**credit can’t be taken for the expression ‘the evil bubble’ this was a phrase coined by an old friend whom I am no longer in touch with. It’s just such a perfect description that I have plagiarised it.

The bombshell drops

I have been pondering over the last week or so whether to write about this stuff in my blog, not sure if anyone else would want to read it but have decided even if no one does it will be good for me to get it down. So the warning here is this isn’t a frothy light read so continue if you dare.
So in September when I got back from our summer holidays there was a letter waiting for me recalling me following a routine mammogram a few weeks before. I wasn’t too concerned as I know sometimes they don’t come out so well so off I went to the breast clinic where they told me that there was something on my mammogram. Something small but still something. Ok so more tests required and also a biopsy. During all this time I tried to push down the worry and be positive that it would be nothing. Results day arrived and we got taken into a room. You know the sort of room, a sofa, a couple of chairs and a box of tissues. I do not like this type of room. Friends had been saying to me that I would be ok as I’m too good a person for anything bad to happen Only you see I know that’s not true because bad things do happen to good people. Because I’ve been in a room just like this before and the news I was given in there was the worst of my life.
Well they don’t sugar coat it, they come out straight and tell me I have an invasive breast cancer. However the good news (thanks goodness for good news) it’s been caught early, it’s small and treatable. It’s a shock, it’s not what you want to hear. In that moment I can’t really tell you what I thought or felt fully but I know I cried. (See that’s why I always worry when I see a box of tissues.) They give you some time for it to sink in and then it’s full swing into what’s next. My breast care nurse Helen puts it as, we are going to be taking up a lot of your time for the foreseeable future. There’s lots of info, lots of paperwork and lots of scary words that fill you with dread but there is also kindness and compassion plus practicalities. I’m always better if I can focus on practicalities.
We leave the hospital, we go for lunch as planned. We make a sorry pair crying into our pizza but as we all know, life goes on.
Telling people was tough and upsetting but weirdly I felt a little detached from it all. Maybe a coping mechanism. Plans have had to be made and rearranged, again, practicalities help. Work - well they have been great and the least of my worries. Being who I am I wanted to get loose ends tied up and outstanding work handed over but that was me, I was under no pressure to do any of that and they have been great about time for my appointments. Plus the very good friends I have in work, have been so supportive.
On Tuesday I got a call to say they were bringing my operation forward to Thursday. That was a shocker and threw the last of my plans into disarray. Most annoyingly my hair cut booked for Friday. Desperate times call for desperate measures so the fringe has been massacred with my nail scissors but I can see. It’s weird what things you put importance on and clearly I’m vainer than I realised.
So today finds me propped up in bed post lumpectomy and lymph node biopsy. I’m sore and tired but a step closer to recovery now the evil bubble has (hopefully) been all removed. Yes I know this is the start and there is treatment to follow but I am positive that I can beat this. I’m strong, life has made me so and I have the best hubby, family and friends walking beside me holding my hand and holding me up when I need it.

Family

I’ve always thought that I had a fairly normal upbringing and family. Normal probably isn’t the right choice of word but bear with.
What I mean is I consider myself to be lucky. I grew up in a loving family, not without its difficulties and foibles but I had a comfy home, two loving parents and my big sister. Of course there was also my wider family, aunts, uncles and cousins. As the years pass the family has naturally grown with my own children and nephews and nieces. Like I said at the beginning I always thought we were pretty standard but I find that the more people I know and speak to, it seems that we are quite special.
Here’s the thing we like each other and enjoy spending time together. Now for me thats what I mean about being normal but it seems that that is far from the norm. Not for us family feuds, falling out, not speaking, spending as little time as possible together. No we love a family gathering. Granted it gets harder as the family grows. Currently we are trying to plan how we can all be together over for some or all of Christmas and new year. The logistics of this are tricky, merging from Birmingham, Essex, Milton Keynes, Preston and London. Who will be where when, where will they sleep, food almost being the after thought.
When we are together we have good times, traditions, dancing, singing, so many ‘you had to be there’ moments, belly laughs and piss taking. I really don’t know what is the gel that holds us all so close together. Of course there is love but many families have that and still don’t get on so it can only be a little bit of special magic and alcohol can’t for get alcohol. Long may it continue.