BLOG 434

Blog 434

It has been a busy week for working outside as the weather was surprisingly warm and dry. We need to catch up on painting rendered walls so I have made a small start on that. We live in a cottage converted from stone outbuildings on what was a small farm but the garage, lean-to utility room and garden walls are all rendered so there is quite a lot to paint. I thought an hour or so a day should see it through in a normal week but then an unexpected death means that we have to go to Cardiff for a family funeral on Tuesday.

I managed to find time this week to fit in a 1000 piece jigsaw! I just love doing jigsaws and the process is not unlike my present way of working with fabric. I am often trying to find the right fabric scrap to fit a certain place to construct a visually pleasing picture. Both require patience and both are very time consuming and both are immensely satisfying when they are done!

           Jigsaw: the start 
 

          Jigsaw: the end  

A lot of thread work has been added to my garden wall picture and, as you can imagine, this sewing process takes a lot of time. Here are a couple of pictures of the stitching through wadding so you have a better idea of what is going on and then there are a couple of stitched features from the right side.

           Stitching 1 
 

          Stitching 2

         Foxglove

                  

          Cat
 

 
A hint of spring brings with it a need to tidy and feather the nest! And to that end I have been making Roman blinds and curtains. I love looking at furnishing fabrics and just enjoying them for what they are but when I find just the right colour/style that might fit in one of my rooms, I can’t help myself! I haven’t made Roman blinds before but I learned how to do them this week by dismantling those that were in situ. I used a cheap terracotta remnant which was embroidered with cream flowers.
 
 



               Fabric for Roman blinds




The other fabric I found was also embroidered with a surface design and that was ideal for the small window in the guest room. I usually spend a lot of time at the ironing board when curtain making and I think that pressing contributes a lot to the success of curtain-making! Making curtains was a light relief from the creative sewing I have been doing lately.

          Fabric for curtains

 

 

BOG 433

Blog 433

This blog is devoted entirely to my daughter Tess who had breast cancer and has now come out the other side of it all. The intimate verses that follow are about her experience and written from her heart. They show humour, fortitude and a depth of knowledge she would rather not have had! I am full of admiration and love for her. As a mum, you get used to kissing your children better but there comes a time when that is just not enough. So, whilst she embarked on her treatment, I made a colourful square to represent each day from diagnosis, through mastectomy and chemotherapy to the end of her radiotherapy.  It is entitled ‘When life deals you scraps…’ (you make a quilt!)

                                              Mum and daughter

 

                                                                      The squares

 

           

                                                         Tess and her wall hanging

 

Cancer - It Could be Worse?

 Cancer’s not funny, and I don’t think it’s a joke              

But backed into a corner, I had to take a poke              

At bizarre things that happened whilst facing the Big C 

From flashing the public, to red toxic wee                                  

Stuff they don’t tell you when you start upon this path   

When through a veil of tears, I began to laugh               

And just as those Spice gurus wisely taught me            

All that I needed was some positivity                                            

There’s a phrase in our house when life goes astray     

We muster up a smile – “It could be worse” we say                  

 

It’s true to say that I am a walking disaster                                 

Not a day goes by when I don’t reach for a plaster                    

I take after my dad, a professional bloke                                   

HSE Inspector...and the butt of every joke                                

A real life Reg Prescott, you will get the gist                              

When he dropped a saw and nearly hacked off his wrist          

So I was prepared for every mishap and blunder                      

Banter being the float that stopped me going under                   

“It could be worse” I jokingly tossed back at each jest   

Since after all father, I learnt from the best                                

 

Our family was away when my life turned upside down           

Going to athletics and Potter in London Town                

Larry the Lump was hard, a walnut in my breast                       

I told my husband then just to get it off my chest                       

We carried on as normal so the kids still had fun                       

But I knew from that day that this journey had begun    

A mammogram, ultrasound, biopsy and a chat             

Who knew my boobies could be squashed completely flat?

 

My consultant smiled kindly, “It’s Cancer” he sighed     

“And it’s in your armpit too” “It could be worse?” I tried  

 

Telling my two children was the next big dilemma                     

In the car sat between them my hands had a tremor    

You have to be honest, whilst cushioning the blow                    

As I explained that my cells were fighting a foe             

I likened it to small storm troopers inside my frame                   

And doctors were Yoda to make sure they’re slain                    

At first they were quiet as we continued the ride            

But kids are amazing, they take it all in their stride                    

My eldest thought my description was really quite neat 

“It could be worse” said my youngest, “can I have a sweet?”

 

Squeezed, stretched and prodded is a big part of my life            

And as well as being a Squishy, I had to face the knife 

One breast disappeared, and instead I got a drain                     

Woozy from the drugs I laughed despite the pain                      

Hubby’s face got paler as the nurse cleaned blood and gore  

Then the man who’d stood by me was a heap on the floor       

Cooped up in gynae ward, the only chick in this state   

Others chatted gamely about what had been their fate 

A woman detailed her prolapse, then there was no doubt         

“It could be worse” I grimaced as her sketch pad came out      

 

Back from hospital, nearest and dearest were so kind  

Home looked like a florist, and of course I didn’t mind

When a friend turned up late brandishing ice cream                  

Saying last night I pleaded for Choc Chip in her dream 

Hubby bought Positive Pants to keep my spirits high    

My butt’s too old for thongs but I gave them a try                      

Having a drain is like a macabre game of Twister                     

In mind and body I connected with my sister                             

We got in a tangle as she tried to cuddle me                              

“It could be worse” we giggled as we tried to break free

 

My body now rattled with every medication                               

Typically for me I had every complication                                 

Like the night I rolled over and my wound split in two    

Instead of peeling back sheets, they stuck to me like glue        

Consultants snapped my cording a grand total of three

“I really want to like you” I murmured nervously            

My family chuckled as one hauled me to my toes                    

Whilst I tried really hard not to thump him on the nose  

Strong arms yanked mine as my cording remained taut           

All this male attention? It could be worse I thought                    

 

Choosing a prosthesis was not for the faint hearted                  

Select a cup size, and you’re just getting started                       

Round breasts, teardrop, and mammaries with a nipple

Softies, silicone, and swimming with a ripple                             

Ollivanders Wand Shop has nothing on this store                      

I think mine has phoenix feathers, holly at its core                    

It’s weird to have a boob that detaches each night                    

Without specs and dim lighting I think I look alright

 

Despite being lopsided “it could be worse” I state                      

“At least on the scales I have lost a bit of weight”                      

 

Chemo was so hard, and it’s weirder than you think                  

Chatty nurses, lovely room, lots of food and drink                     

Amazing volunteers are what makes this so strange     

Coz folk were so nice pumping poison through my veins          

Chemicals so toxic when they spilt from the machine   

It was like that clip from Monsters Inc – 2319                            

My pee turned scarlet, was I bleeding internally?                      

“Oops forgot to tell you” the nurse grinned sheepishly   

I’ll miss those people who got me through that trial                    

“It could be worse” I told them “you all made me smile”            

 

The day my hair fell out I was stood in the shower                    

I guess it would’ve been wiser without full power                       

Though three haircuts and chemo all went as planned  

I was still not prepared when I saw my hairy hand                     

Marching to the kitchen I needed action at once                       

But what could be done about my receding bonce?                  

Hubby flourished the cat shaver laughing manically                  

Puss and I gulped whilst my children danced with glee 

It was really liberating, not as bad as I’d feared              

“It could be worse” I reasoned as G.I Jane appeared    

 

My hair was so funny as it disappeared from sight                    

It fell out down the parting as I slept through the night   

But finding my first wig was especially tough                             

Each toupee plonked on my head until I’d had enough 

Looking back at pictures I laugh until I cry                                 

Wig lady saying they all looked good really was a lie     

They got used by my girls for dressing up instead                     

Whilst I stuck to hats to cover my balding head             

Hair isn’t important “it could be worse” I pester              

Then my brows fell out, and I became Uncle Fester                 

 

Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, even Milly the Mouse                     

All except me moving between the lounge and the loo  

I was alternating sickness with having a brew                

My days of sleeping were now a thing of the past                     

Since the drugs in my system were having a blast                    

I’d been told to eat calories to keep myself strong                     

The first time in life I could eat everything wrong                       

“It could be worse” I rejoiced giving Santa a wink                      

Then I scoffed down his cookie and glugged up his drink

 

Preparing for radio, I needed small tattoo dots               

Which was fine until the staff knocked over the pots                 

Instead of an artist’s muse, I was over a sink                             

And it looked like a squid had ejected its ink                              

Gorwel and Awel are the machines that were used                   

“They look like Kenwood mixers” my dad said amused

Hospital gowns are an interesting conception                

Mine exposed all of me as I walked through reception  

“It could be worse” I pondered as I backed up in fear    

“At least there’s no soggy bottom on display here”                    

 

I spent so long in hospitals all built like a maze               

Without the volunteers I’d be walking for days               

I often found myself in the wrong department               

Like the day I ended up in Estates with a gent               

“Have you lost something?” he asked glowering at me 

“Why yes I have” I replied “it was 34B”                         

Getting back to my appointment on time was a race    

“It could be worse” I mused as I picked up the pace                  

By the time I’d figured how the maps were decoded                 

I’d done so many steps that my fitbit imploded

 

Along the way I dealt with other types of fuss                

Like hour long waits to talk to Jobcentre Plus                

Complicated questions that left my head spinning                     

So with a massage voucher I thought I was winning                 

But after writing chemo and cancer of the breast                      

Therapists squeak “manicure?” from behind their nail desk

Dealing with the public changed dramatically in hats     

The looks, the nudges, and the sympathetic pats                      

It worked to my advantage when they let me through   

“It could be worse” I grinned from the front of the queue           

 

That I would take Tamoxifen I’d known for a while                    

So I was thrown when oncology mentioned a trial                     

Drugs used for Prostate Cancer are proving a hit                      

They induce the menopause, but that I’ll permit             

I now take Exemestane plus Zoladex implant                

As another hot flush looms I am starting to pant            

So here I am following the road less travelled                

With hot flashes and sweats my life has unravelled                   

“It could be worse” I reflect as I drink even more                       

“At last I have the smokin’ hot body I wished for”          

 

Things had calmed down, then I got lymphoedema                  

I glanced at the stars “Could you get any meaner?”                  

But it’s me not heaven I admitted with a wrench            

I’d spent the whole boiling hot day painting a fence                   

“Take it easy” they’d said, but that’s just not my style    

As I finish my run then do one extra mile                                   

I teach fitness, don’t smoke, little sign of a chip             

With no family history I’m classed as a blip                                

“It could be worse” I smirked from behind my green tea           

As my husband juggled the beds, pots, and laundry                  

 

Hairless body, and Philly the fillet in my bra                               

Infections and ulcers, I was feeling below par                

So we decided I needed some deep relaxation             

And jetted off on our first post treatment vacation                     

Through security brandishing letters with aplomb                      

Explaining that the boob in the bag ain’t a bomb            

I sashayed up the beach channelling Pussy Galore                  

Then Philly slipped out and flopped onto the floor                      

“It could be worse” I shrugged as I started to gloat

“At least if I’m drowning I’ll have my own float”              

 

One day I noticed my back had blisters and tingles                   

The pharmacist informed me that I now had Shingles   

I’d been warned about Googling to avoid the hype                    

But a rash seemed innocent so I started to type            

“Should’ve listened” I groaned at the end of my tether  

When Shingles and Cancer popped up together                        

And whilst I was searching I got even madder               

As I self-diagnosed an irritable bladder                           

“It could worse” I muttered as I thought it through                      

“With my condition knowledge I’m the next Dr Who?”   

 

And there’s still more to add to my long list of woes                  

Like the nails that fell out from my fingers and toes                   

Cheek fuzz that needs trimming will never be charming           

And neither are hiccups so loud they’re alarming                      

I have wrinkles on wrinkles that I always inspect                       

But I think chemo fog brain is the worse side effect                  

I stride into a room, and then stand there bemused                   

I’ve no clue where I’ve put all the items I’ve used                      

“Life’s now an adventure” I insist “it could be worse”     

As I hunt in the fridge for my phone and my purse        

 

I kept a list of appointments, quite the collection            

Waiting room boredom is great for self-reflection                      

I met so many people going through this too                              

That sense of solidarity really pulled me through           

So thanks for your support, the hugs and the caring     

It’s true a problem is halved when everyone’s sharing   

I’m part of a club that no one wants to be in                               

But half the battles won if I sign up with a grin               

“It could be worse” I acknowledge because in North Wales

I’m now the Guest of Honour at Macmillan cake sales 

 

It’s hard to find your feet when your world flips around 

But when it rights itself again, you’re left in a mound     

Sometimes I feel abandoned and stunned by my loss  

Other times I think no I’ll show Cancer who’s the boss  

Attending counselling is really helping me cope             

So I don’t think every itch needs a stethoscope             

You’re in pretty good shape for the shape you are in     

Dr Seuss reminds me when I dislike my own skin                     

“Could be worse” winked a friend “you’re good for my health”

“Since your diagnosis I can’t stop touching myself”                   

 

Returning to work after so long on sick leave                            

I felt excited, motivated, ready to achieve                                 

I’d juggled three jobs, two kids and a husband before    

“This’ll be a cinch” I sang as I strode out the door                      

Two hours in and I realised that wasn’t quite true                       

When having a nap was all I wanted to do                                 

There was only one way to deal with my affliction                    

I developed a major caffeine addiction                          

Out of steam, fuzzy head and unable to focus?            

“It could be worse” teased staff “you seem normal to us!”         

I’m now a year the other side and feeling okay              

I exercise, meditate and laugh loud every day               

Some peeps say I’m inspiring, that is very kind but                   

I think the word ‘deluded’ is more appropriate                

I gaze at my crew, my happy healthy family                             

And I know it could be worse - it’s not them, it’s me                  

Words of wisdom from mum when you just want to wilt           

“When life deals you scraps, you gotta make a quilt”    

So cheers to the future, let’s all toast with a glass                      

       But next time Life wants some fun, I reckon I’ll pass