Go Blue For Love

CANCER…

Probably the scariest word in the world. A word to be feared, a word we don’t say, something we don’t talk about. It is indiscriminate, doesn’t fight fair and just when you think it is gone… Wham! It comes back again! Both my Granddads and my Nan died of cancer; it was as terrible as you’d imagine it to be. But somehow, you can console yourself with the fact there were 70, 80 and had lived good, full lives. But how do you console yourself when it is a child that is diagnosed with it? A child of just 15?

I remember when I first properly met Melina – mi querida amiga. I was drunk. I kept going on to her about eating Guinea Pigs, something that I thought all Bolivians should do, at all times, obviously. I don’t think I spoke to her much after that, not for a while anyway. Over time we got chatting in the playground at pick up and drop off and a friendship developed. I mentioned to her that I wanted to write a book, a Victorian melodrama and she invited me to come along to her writing group. So Thursday nights became my writing group night, there alongside, Peter, my neighbour, who I already knew and loved, I met John, the South African biker who wrote Steampunk and the very elegant Nikki, an already published crime writer, I am not sure what I would do without them now.

In time we joined the Frome Writers Collective and all attended the inaugural meeting in the library one Sunday in June. Melina wore a dress… an amazing dress, which gave her a fantastic cleavage, a blue dress. I remember everything about that afternoon, the dress, the speakers, sitting under the Velux window - the afternoon sunlight streaming in and boiling my head. I remember chatting to Judy, an extra for Holby City who lives 10 doors away from me, who I hadn’t really spoken to before and of course Melina’s amazing boobies. I remember every single second of that afternoon, because that Sunday was our last day of normality, everything changed, and nothing would ever be the same again.

That night, my mother in law had a stroke. But that was nothing to what was to come. 

Lucia is beautiful, not just on the outside, but on the inside too. Tall, dark, stunning glossy black hair, chocolate eyes and she has that amazing Latin American mocha latte skin tone, she is 15. She cares for her family, looks after her two younger brothers and is studying for her GCSEs. At around Easter last year Lucia started having problems with the movement in her arms, stiff neck and a loss of sensation in her arms and feet. The doctors said it was a trapped nerve, stress related, psychosomatic etc., but we all knew there was more to it and after pushing Melina to get another opinion, Lucia was booked in for some Neurological tests on the Monday, the day after the event at the library. By Friday the world had turned upside down, by Friday Lucia was lucky to still be alive, by Friday Lucia had endured an emergency five hour operation and by Friday we all learnt a new word, a scary word – Astrocytoma.

Astrocytoma is cancer. In Lucia’s case, cancer in the spine. Spiderlike, it had wound its spindly legs through her vertebrae and wrapped itself around her spinal nerve, amazingly the doctors managed to get most of it out. But now radiotherapy and chemotherapy loomed with all their ghastly side effects, Lucia wasn’t out of the woods by any stretch.

“It was the best of times… It was the worst of times”, so starts the Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. However, I find myself now writing that it is the worst of times, it is the best of times. When a tragedy strikes, we can either let it break us, or make us. It made us; it made us stronger, it made us fighters and it made us laugh and cry and it kept the vine yards in business… And by us I mean Lucia, Melina, the beautiful, if somewhat inappropriately funny Mel, kind and generous Anna and elegantly stylish Victoria, oh and me!

Cancer may be scary, but it is not half as scary as five mothers on a mission to kick its arse. And kick it we are!

 But not only that, with Lucia’s amazing selflessness and thoughtfulness we made life a little better for others too. It started by getting a few boxes of tea and coffee together for the Parents Room on Ward 38 at the Bristol Children’s Hospital, and snow balled into raising thousands of pounds for the ward, Teenage Cancer Trust, Clic Sargent and the Rainbows Trust. Go Blue For Lucia hit the local papers as Lucia became an inspiration. At Christmas she insisted we all go visit the children on the Ward, with presents for all of them, and tea, coffee, chocolates etc. for the parents and staff, because “no one should be in hospital over Christmas” she said. Nominated and awarded Young Person of the Year by the Somerset Guardian, and now Lucia has received the Pride of Bath award for her charity work. 

Lucia has finished her chemo and radiotherapy, but still has a fight on her hands, spending this Easter, a year on since the first symptoms, in and out of hospital. But against all the odds she is still fighting and kicking cancer’s butt. Over the last year, old friendships have become stronger, new ones formed. We have witnessed the generosity of so many people who donated their money or their time (too many to mention, but you know who you are). We saw random people who came off the street to run 5k just because they were in the park whilst we happened to be doing a charity fun run at that moment, and they wanted to show their support! We had donations, pictures and messages of support from people in America, Bolivia, Germany and the UK. People dyed their hair blue, wore blue clothes and made blue cakes. Why blue? Lucia’s favourite colour!

How often over the last year have the five of us cried together, laughed together and got ourselves into trouble? Come on, who else would I sneak bottles of wine into a Children’s hospital for?

“Stupid Orkney”… “Stupid you” says Melina kicking the For Sale sign outside my house.

 She doesn’t want me to leave, and if I think too much about it, it breaks my heart a little and I feel I might not go, perhaps I should stay… 

So Orkney… Here’s your challenge... I am going to be leaving all these amazing people behind, geographically speaking, for you. I am investing so much in you and potentially giving up even more. You’d better be good and you better live up to all my hopes, otherwise I am coming right back down to Somerset again.  You hear me?

No pressure then…

To find out more about Go Blue For Lucia, visit: www.goblueforlucia.com

Don't panic!

Easter.

Traditionally a time of new new beginnings, the weather gets better with warmer days and  longer nights, and we start to plan our future, well the next few months anyway. A holiday maybe, redecorating the house, a new summer wardrobe... Yet this week I am increasingly finding myself thinking about the past and the present, and avoiding thinking too much about the future.  This is in part due to something that is happening to my lovely friend Melina and her family, the blog I had prepared for this week was about her and our friends. I have had to put that blog on hold for the moment for reasons that will become obvious when I publish it, I think that is also adding to my current mood..

I am taking part in the 365 challenge, you pick a challenge, in my case to walk a minimum of 1k every day. Some people are doing 10k runs, most 5k, some crazies are doing a daily triathlon! The important element is not the distance, but the fact you do something, some form of exercise, everyday, 365 days. For me I have found the experience so far, more of an opportunity to take some time to think and reflect, to motivate myself to leave the house every day, to take the dog for a walk and explore more of the countryside around my home. I average about 3k a day, sometimes more, sometimes less and since I started on 1st January, I have really seen and felt the seasons change. Hedge rows I walk past on my usual 2k route are now blossoming with spring flowers and the vibrant greens of new shoots and leaves.

But today, instead of feeling energised by this new growth, happy and hopeful in the sunshine,  I feel sad and a bit melancholic. It is now only six weeks until we move and whilst I am excited about our new beginnings, I am also sad at everything we are leaving behind. I am sure tomorrow I will feel different again. We are at the stage where we are awaiting confirmation from everyone - the estate agent, the leasing company, my new employer, the removal company...so we are planning and packing on the assumption that everything will be sorted and go ahead as planned. As a result everything feels a little up in the air.

Sean went up to Orkney last week to speak to the leasing company and view some houses and has returned home with a renewed enthusiasm for the people and places on Orkney, and is more convinced than ever that we are doing the right thing. In fact he can't wait to go. This was how I felt in February, but since Easter I am beginning to miss people and places, and we haven't gone yet! I am not saying I have changed my mind about moving, far from it! We have wanted to move there for the last 8 or 9 years and I am sure this is the right thing to do for us as a family, I think I am up just realising how important these people are to me and how they have had such a positive impact on my life and us as a family.

 Our new house!

We all have dreams, some attainable, some not. But that is the thing about dreams, when times are tough we think about them and we feel better, we plan what we would do and imagine ourselves there and how life would be different. Suddenly we are about to live our dream and I think I am probably scared. There is nothing like packing boxes to bring reality crashing down around you. What we are doing is HUGE and our decision doesn't just affect us, it affects the kids, our families, our friends, even the dog! I can feel panic creeping slowly over me and I am questioning everything. Yet all my friends and family, even random people I chat to about our impending adventure, all say we are doing the right thing, an amazing opportunity not to give up and deep down in ,my heart I know they are right.

In the next six weeks I know there will be tears and tantrums, panic and perspiration, arguments and angst! I need to make sure I remember the dream we had: sitting by the fire, drinking whisky in our house by the sea, because our dream will soon be a reality and how many people are lucky enough to get that opportunity?