Race for Life, Telford

Thinking of loved ones

Shocking pink was the order of the day as ladies of all ages donned hats, wigs, tutus and banners in tribute to all those who have been touched by cancer. It was a very beautiful experience to take part in Race for Life, Telford, on Sunday, July 12, along with more than 3,000 other women.

Many participants walk or run for special friends and loved ones. Some may have lost their battle with cancer while others have become survivors. Different signs read: For My Mum; For My Husband – A Survivor; Josh; My Best Friend’s Mum.

Rebecca and I thought we would start with a little jog, but that was not possible because of the large number of people on quite narrow paths. We just walked as fast as we could and the atmosphere was very thought-provoking and moving. I even found my husband in tears at the finish line!

It was lovely to be able to spend this time reflecting on the past two years and giving thought to others who were still going through tough times. As long as people are being diagnosed with cancer, women need to keep on walking or running in the Race for Life.

Thank you to Rebecca and to all my sponsors and supporters. And thanks for nothing to Fearne Cotton!

Waiting to start

Walking on

and on

Philippa drops in to cheer us on.

 

Paul Granjon in the Shift Time Igloo

The audience watches Paul Granjon's Shift Time launch night animal antics.

Paul Granjon promised a balanced mix of reflection and entertainment for the Shift Time launch event and it was certainly that. The comedy was very black and just as you felt yourself falling off your chair with laughter you got a feeling in the pit of your stomach that told you to stop and think about the serious underlying issues.  We were entertained with song and dance as robotic animals were projected on a big screen. We were taken on a journey which included fish, chicken feet and robotic ears and tail.  The highlight of the evening for me was the entertaining cover version of the famous 1979 disco hit by Patrick Hernandes, Born to be Alive, accompanied by a little robotic dancer. If ever you get the chance to see this artist live it will be a memorable evening.

Paul dances in time with the robot.

 

Race for Life – will Fearne Cotton sponsor me a fiver? Please…

Yes, I ran through the woods in the light of day dressed like that! I am hoping to get sponsors for Race for Life, Telford, on July 12.

I have so much admiration for Fearne Cotton for not turning back when she was clearly struggling to get up Kilimanjaro for comic relief. Something she said, when she started to get some relief from the altitude sickness, really stuck in my head. She said something like: “Never under estimate feeling normal.”

I hope Fearne can remember saying it because I, and others like me who have been through treatment for cancer or another serious illnessess, can truly relate to it.

It’s the Race for Life in Telford on July 12 and I am running, or trotting, to mark the end of my 22 months of treatment for breast cancer. It is a real celebration of feeling ‘normal’ again. As Fearne said, we must not take this feeling for granted.

When my hair fell out during chemo my husband shaved his head and raised more than £2,500 for the Lingen Davies Cancer Centre Appeal at Royal Shrewsbury Hospital. Everyone we know was so generous last year and I do not expect them to dig deep again for  the Race for Life.

But I really wanted to raise awareness and encourage people to give some  thought to those who are feeling under the weather. I want people who are feeling fit to shout out to the world: “I am so happy to be healthy.”

I thought it might help to raise awareness if I, through social networking, tried to contact Fearne to ask her to ’sponsor me a fiver’. Wouldn’t it be great if she did?  It’s a bit like that documentary made by Brian Herzlinger, My Date with Drew, where he has only 30 days to get a date with Drew Barrymore. Only I am not asking for a date thanks Fearne, just a fiver….. please.  And I have just 12 days to try to make this happen.

I have been inspired to try out this social networking experiment through my role as a blogger on the Shift Time festival of ideas which is taking place in Shrewsbury soon. I have been following Fearne on twitter for a few weeks now and have just learned that she is a new blogger, like me!

Apart from Fearne, I would be really grateful to anyone else who could spare a few pounds towards this worthy cause – Cancer Research UK’s Race for Life. You can sponsor me my visiting my fundraising page here.

If you're feeling fit, shout it out: "I'm so happy to be healthy!"

 

Trying to use public transport – yes it is!

We are being told to use public transport to save the planet but it is no surprise to me that people keep driving around in their 4×4s or whatever. I got a bus once when my car was in for a service. I only had to get a couple of miles from Little Dawley to Malinslee and I worked it out in the end with the help of other passengers.  I wasn’t very keen to try it again though. There are plently of bus stops near to our house in Little Dawley, but they are all a bit wrecked and don’t have any timetables or explanation as to which buses stop there.

I now need to get a bus to Wellington. Well, it’s not for me it’s for a foreign language student who is coming to stay with us in a couple of weeks. She needs to get the bus to Wellington for 9am and come back around 5pm. I called Arriva yesterday and the chap who answered was very helpful, or so I thought. He said, if I was prepared to go to Southgate, near Aqueduct, I could get a number 9 or a 144 and he gave me the various times.

Off I went today to check out which bus stop he was talking about. I walked down towards Aqueduct along Southgate and every bus stop I passed was either for the number 22 circular route or it didn’t have any information in it at all.

I’ve also been on their website to check out the timetable but I can’t work it out at all. I don’t see what more I can do. Well, I could go and hang around on the street tomorrow and flag down a few bus drivers for information, but I don’t see why I should.

So, when my student arrives I will be driving to Wellington and back twice a day to drop her off and pick her up. You can’t say I didn’t try!

 

Going round in circles

Taken the evening after a funeral in Scotland, this landscape is a wonderful picture of remembrance for me.

For me, walking is the perfect way to calm the mind and to help nurture creativity, whether I walk for miles or simply get up from my chair and take a turn around the room.

Artists Wren Miller and Ray Jacobs are exploring arts and the grieving process in The Remembrance Path which forms part of Shrewsbury’s Shift Time arts festival. During research on Charles Darwin it occurred to Wren and Ray what a huge influence loss and bereavement had on his life, both as a young boy who lost his mother and as a parent who suffered the grief of losing a child. Elements of Darwin’s life also linked in with other important aspects of the project, including the importance of walking as a contemplative and healing practise, his use of stones as markers for thoughts as he walked, and the healing and nurturing effect of the landscape.

The artists, who are going through bereavement in their own lives, see the project as an opportunity for members of the community to share their own experiences of loss in a positive and creative way.

As part of the project they invite us to take our own remembrance walk and report back to them. So, following the instructions on their website I took five stones and went off on a circular walk of my own.

Darwin placed stones as markers for thoughts as he walked.

On my return I made notes for ten minutes as suggested:-

I went on a circular walk through the woods near my house. The first stone I wanted to place by the side of the lake but near the sound of running water. I have sat in that spot before and I definitely feel calm there. The next one was on a decaying tree trunk over a brook. I had to lean over the brook to place it. Then I walked round to a secluded bench which overlooks a pool and placed one underneath. As I walked away from the water and through open spaces I didn’t feel the urge to place a stone. I put the next one down at a crossroads in the woods. The final stone was again placed near the sound of running water.

So, I was drawn to water, especially the sound of running water and even I can see how that would tie in with loss and remembrance. Water is a great healer and crying can help to release us from the pressures of grief.

I look forward to finding out more about this project and getting involved in the Remembrance Path Labyrinth in the Quarry, Shrewsbury, on July 4 and 5.

 

Would Darwin have been proud of us?

Shift Time is a festival of ‘far reaching ideas’ taking place over two weekends in Shrewsbury. I think Charles Darwin would have been proud of us last Tuesday as we agreed to take part in an ‘experiment’ which involves members of the community helping to promote the event through blogging and social networking.

This is a pilot project funded by the Arts Council and it is exciting to be part of something which itself is going to evolve as we blog boldly into the unknown.

Shift Time means ‘pause to reflect’ and the ten day festival will give people the chance to think about ‘what it is to be human.’ It all links to the fact that it has been 150 since Darwin first published his thoughts on the subject in The Origin of Species.

There was quite a good turnout at the Hive in Belmont last week but it is by no means too late for others to get involved.  If this pilot scheme is really going to work we need as many people as possible on board from a cross section of the community.

The next meeting is tomorrow, Tuesday. More details at www.shift-time.org.uk/blog/ or for photos visit Steve Green’s blog.

 

Thank you to all as treatment ends

Piggins celebrates as treatment ends. They are stress balls for patients to squeeze to plump the veins up.

When I attended the opening of the Chemotherapy Day Centre at Royal Shrewsbury Hospital as a young reporter in 2001, little did I know that I would be spending so much time there.

I remember looking at the chairs and the machines and not really having a clue what it all involved. Well I know now. I officially had my last Herceptin treatment today, number 18/18, and I can’t quite believe this day has come.

When the consultant, Mr Hinton, gave me the diagnosis in August 2007 he said something like: “It is breast cancer, but it’s not what you are thinking. We cure 95% of these cases and you may get away without chemotherapy altogether.” Let’s hope so, I thought.

Breast care nurse specialist Sister Mandy Wilson also reassured me that the chances were I would live to a ‘ripe old age’ and die of something else.

I had a lumpectomy, carried out by Mr Hinton two weeks after he broke the above news. It would have been one week but he had a conference to go to, and that was good for me as I had a holiday booked. Everyone was happy.

Chemotherapy started in November 2007. (But I thought he said I probably wouldn’t need chemo? Ah yes, but further tests revealed the cancer was HER2 positive, which was described to me as ’slightly more aggressive’, and I would benefit from a course of Herceptin. So far, Herceptin had only been given to people alongside or after chemo. So I hadn’t got away with it.) Six courses of FEC at three-weekly intervals. Having no hair was great at halloween but as the Christmas party season came round it started to get a bit tiresome. I then had radiotherapy every day for the whole of April and the Herceptin started in June 2008. I have been going to the Chemotherapy Day Centre at Royal Shrewsbury Hospital for treatment at three-weekly intervals. I am also on Tamoxifen for five years but I take that every night in tablet form.

My last dose of Herceptin

Lovely as all the nurses are who have been administering my treatment, I will be very glad to be free of the hospital. Herceptin is not like chemo, you don’t get the same side effects, so it hasn’t been a bad experience. It will just be nice not to have to go to the hospital on such a regular basis.

I would also like to add that chemotherapy itself was nothing like as bad as I imagined. In my experience we are very lucky in Shropshire to have such an excellent service.

How can I ever thank all the medical staff who have treated me over the past 22 months. Mr Hinton did a very neat job and the breast care nurse specialist, Sister Mandy Wilson, was always at the end of the phone to help with any problems. I also appreciate all the extra support I got from the Hamar Centre at Royal Shrewsbury Hospital.

My oncologist, Dr Rajiv Agrawal, seems to work so tirelessly and I thank him for answering an endless stream of questions and never making me feel rushed. I have definitely had a gold star service.

So there you go. Chemotherapy and other such treatments for cancer are do-able. I did it!  And if I can – anybody can.

Nurse Michelle sets me free after 22 months of treatment. I handed over some stress ball pigs to the nurses as a thank you present.

Receptionist Jo, left, and Nurse Karen.

 

Vickie and Tom’s wedding

For dear Alys who could not make Tom and Vickie’s wedding.

Vickie is now Mrs Warren

We arrived in Weston-Under-Redcastle at 12noon and as we drove past the church Tom was already there at the gates. He certainly was very keen. It was a whole hour before the wedding was due to start and who knows how long he had been there when we spotted him. I tried to give him a wave of excitement and encouragement all in one. I didn’t wind the window down because, as I remember myself, all these little things can cause extra stress when you are trying to concentrate on the job in hand. He looked fab by the way – very handsome.

We drove to the hotel to park and went in for a cup of tea. Steve took a few photos of the wedding suite as relatives and friends were buzzing about adding finishing touches to their outfits. We decided 12.30 was a good time to leave for the church, which was literally five minutes away as it says in the invitation.

We followed the sea of umbrellas and I noticed the mud was splashing up my tights. Poor Vickie.

The atmosphere on entering the village church was like the ultimate dream wedding. A beautiful setting and the string quartet was the icing on the cake. Somebody had even bothered to turn on the heating and, as we sat there in the pews, we started to build up quite a sweat.

The string quartet

Time ticked on and then Simon arrived with Anna and sat behind us. He thought he might have been a bit late but he was by no means the last. We waited. The vicar kept getting us all excited by walking down the aisle, but then she would just walk back up again. Where’s Alys? I asked. And then Simon told me the disappointing news that you had been held up in London.

I caught a glimpse of Simon’s watch and noticed it was 1.15pm. I hadn’t been to a wedding for ages and couldn’t remember whether it was normal for the bride to be sooooooo late. I think it must be normal because a few seconds later Vickie breezed in, cool as you like. She looked amazing! Such a beautiful bride, and she walked down the aisle as the string quartet played Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The bridesmaids all looked gorgeous in green.

Beautiful bridesmaids

Both Vickie and Tom sounded loud and clear as they made their declarations and vows. Many in the congregation were fighting back the tears but the bride and groom remained calm and confident. It was hot in there and Vickie had to ask for a glass of water.

For one of the readings Rhiannon Lee and Rebecca Moyle read the poem I’ll Be There by Louise Cuddon. This moved me to tears again!

Back at the hotel we had a lovely drinks reception and caught up with everyone while Tom and Vickie went off to have the official photos taken. Then we all moved through to the reception room which looked fantastic. Rebecca and I kept looking at the empty chair in between us and missing you. There was some talk of telling the waiters that you were ‘on your way’ or ‘in the powder room’ so that we could eat your food and wine as well. In the end we decided it would all be too stressful to keep up the facade.

Alas no Alys

We all enjoyed a leisurely meal and the food and wine was great. Then on to the speeches. I have to say it was all very entertaining and interesting. None of the speeches were particularly short but I enjoyed every minute. I loved the bit when Tom told Vickie’s dad that he would always take care of her. More tears!

The whole thing was more excitement that I’ve had in a long time so Steve and I had to make a speedy exit at about 8.30. I literally just shut down and had to get in the car. A thoroughly fantastic day to that point. I bet we missed loads more fun as the evening went on.

Mrs Warren starts as she means to go on by ordering Tom back down the aisle

 

I’ve got hair and it’s fabulous!

Love your hair!

I have been feeling very emotional this week. The tears started falling down my face in the hairdresser’s on Wednesday. Not because Gavin was doing a bad job, but because I realised I looked OK. I’m back together again.

When the breast cancer was diagnosed the fact that my hair was going to fall out didn’t seem important in the whole scheme of things. I think I coped quite well when my husband helped me shave it off completely three weeks into the chemotherapy treatment. People said I looked quite good bald and I agreed with them. Only now that it has grown back am I allowing myself to think about it in any detail.

So, six chemos, 20 radiotherapy sessions, and 17 Herceptin infusions later, I’m looking in the mirror and I like what I see. As my treatment draws to a close, my hair has grown back to a reasonable length and I want to shout: “Look at me – I’ve got hair and it’s fabulous.” To mark the occasion I’ve gone mad and had it tinted a bright copper colour with blonde highlights glinting underneath.

Many of us women seem to fuss so much over hair. If it’s curly we wish it was straight and vice versa. We are never satisfied. I was never really satisfied with mine. I wished the colour could have been brighter or that it had more body. After it fell out my perception of it was distorted. All of a sudden I had lost my ‘beautiful long, blonde hair’.

Our attachment to our hair runs so much deeper than its roots. It’s such a strange experience when you run your hands through your hair and it comes out in clumps. I quite often have a nightmare where my teeth are loose and start falling out. It reminded me of that.

I like to think I will never take my hair for granted again. You certainly don’t know what you’ve got until you lose it.

 

Photography on the NHS?

Taken by my husband as he took his first lesson in portrait photography.

When my husband suggested I go along to model for him as he took his first lesson in portrait photography my first reaction was: “Who me? I’m fat and forty something. It’ll just make me feel worse when I see the pictures of me looking like an ugly overweight troll.”

The wonderful drugs I have been taking to help my fight against breast cancer have left me feeling rather less than sexy.  My long blonde hair has gone and I am finding it really difficult to fight the flab. But bless him for inviting me.

Actually I couldn’t have been more wrong. I reluctantly agreed to go, having run out of plausible excuses, and I would thoroughly recommend it as a tonic.

Steve’s friend Carsten works in a home studio not far from our home and had offered to show him the ropes.  A quick look on Carsten’s website at focused-photography confirmed my suspicions – gorgeous women, many of them scantily clad. I put on loads of make-up and hoped for the best.

Of course I was very stiff at first but Carsten has the sort of confidence and enthusiasm needed to put models at their ease. After about two hours under the spotlight with two photographers pointing their lenses at me I actually started to enjoy it. I left the studio feeling confident and upbeat.

Steve had taken about 60 photographs and it’s great to look at the progression. At first I do look like an ugly overweight troll, to me at least. But then something happens.  Steve is calling me to look this way and that. Carsten gives me some top tips about how to stand. And maybe once in every ten photographs the troll disappears, along with her double chin and thick neck, and somebody rather more attractive is looking into the camera.

I think bedraggled women everywhere should have this prescribed on the NHS.

More pictures on Steve’s  Flickr site