The Italian Job!

Italy was wonderful. We were staying in a villa which was all old tiles and spacious rooms with bourgonvillia and jasmine on the outside. The windows openned onto an outside covered terrace which looked straight to the Med, we were woken by the sound of birds and the occasional boat and the sound of the sea and the hooting by the bus drivers as they went by on the road above.

We had a tiny man made private beach that we had to walk down about 5 flights of very steep stairs to get to, and we had to walk up the same to get the the main road, which is the only road that takes you along the Amlfi coast so it's madness - scooters, buses, cars, pedestrians are all using the road, all apart from the pedestrians are at break neck speed around many hair pin bends. There was a lot of bus action and a lot of bus on bus action which always involved lots of horns and backing up and so on.

The nearest town was Minori - one of the least touristy towns on the coast and gorgeous. It still had holiday makers, but it's full of local charm and was relatively inexpensive. We spent a lot of time there and became tempoary locals, hanging out at the bars in the square, or eating gelati, or at a couple of great restuarants. The first week, for the most part Matt and I relaxed and slept and ate and walked and sunbathed.

One day we decided to walk to Ravello which is a steep up hill stair climb (about 1 mile) it was a beautiful walk past terraced fams of peaches and lemons. We saw mules bringing the lemons down and picked up ones that had been dropped. By the time we got to Ravello the weather had changed and there was a torrential downpour and we had to shelter in a shop. We did get back there another time and it really is a pretty town - amazing views. After the walk up there we had sore legs for days!

Matt's parents arrived on the Friday in time for the World Cup to start so there was more hanging out watching the footie. but as they brought a car we were able to travel around a bit more. My birthday was spent in Pompeii. Most of the artifacts are in museums but it's still worth a visit - we enjoyed it very much - it's big though and there's still a lot to see. We avoided Naples and the museums this trip.

We also visited Capri, and took a ferry there and back- very beautiful with some stunning walks. Also incredibly expensive. Mind shatteringly so. I bought a pretty handbag which wasn't too extortionate, but some of the designer stuff was ridiculous.Amalfi is also a pretty town but packed with tourists and not as friendly as some of the other places we visited. Found a wonderful handbag shop and another leather shop so it was worth visiting for those reasons!All in all we loved the area, and will probably go back.

Because we were staying in a villa we had the freedom to eat out or in - when we ate in we bought wonderful fruit (peaches etc) and tomatoes (the best I've eaten) and proscuitto and bread or made very simple pasta. For breakfast we had cereal (the locals thought we were made because italians don't really eat cereal for breakfast much) or went into town and had cornettos (croissants) that had surprise fillings, such as chocolate, marmalade or apricot jam. And we ate many multi course meals - lots of seafood - for much much less than you'd pay in London.

Being in Italy for the world cup was great fun - the local bars moved the TVs outside so we could watch the various games and there was a party atmosphere when Italy played. On our last night it was the Italy - US game and we were in the back with the locals - there was an audible sigh of relief when we cheered for Italy - they'd been giving us funny looks because they assumed we were supporting the US! And as our friendly waiter said "Theese country ees crazy".

I loved the Italians and the sense of community and the food was fantastic.

When I got back I had my first 3 month check up. So far so good. Next one is in September. Now we can enjoy the summer!

Z x

This time tomorrow

We'll be in Italy, looking at the sea, away from computers and work stresses.

I'm not sending postcards this time, but will be back in two weeks.

Ciao!

Z xx

Women's Hour

I'm working at home today and managed to listen to Women's Hour on Radio 4. They had a report about the study of long term psychological effects of cervical cancer on women and their partners that is being started by Surrey University and a woman called Alison Nightingale who had it herself. I've become involved via Jo's Trust.

If you are interested there is more information on the Women's Hour webpage and they will also podcast it later today.

I'm counting the days to our holiday (9 in case you're interested). I don't think I've ever felt so in need of one. Can't wait to be sitting on the terrace of an Italian villa looking at the sea and sipping wine.

I'm feeling grumpy at the moment - work has been very stressful and while my team is doing well and I'm being productive, there are issues that I have no control over and it's causing ructions. And shouting. I've never been a fan of shouting at work, although have had several jobs where it was quite normal, but these days I can't cope with it. As a result it's been playing on my mind when I should be resting. Matt is on the verge of banning me from going in.

On top of that I'm frustrated with my lack of fitness. I "persuaded" Matt to do the Great South Run in October and although I'm not going to do it, I thought I could start training with him as I feel fat and lumpy at the moment. It's not going well - apart from the constant pains I get (symptoms post radiotherapy and/or menopause) I also get random bouts of diarrhea, which is a little limiting. I'm going to keep trying though, as well as doing pilates at home (Darcy Bussell has a really good DVD out which included lovely stretches).

Part of the problem is that I feel that some people at work (not my bosses thankfully) seem to think that I should be better now that my treatment is over. And it's not as easy as that. It's very depressing.

On a more positive note I'm doing this Women in Governance course (WinG) which I do on my day off on Thursdays. It's not too tiring and actually good because I get to use my brain and exercise the neurons. I'm also meeting some lovely women from Kingston and Richmond with diverse backgrounds and experiences. And the assignments are interesting too. My tutor has told me that Primary Health Care Trusts are keen to get women with my work and health experiences onto boards so it might lead to something interesting and worthwhile.

But it's a type of therapy, in that it's helping me feel better about myself. And I'll take any help I can get at the moment. I see my therapist this afternoon and am looking forward to a long weekend with Matt, and of course the holiday. And I'm enjoying the bits of sun in between the torrential rain that allow me to potter in the garden. It's looking lovely - there are little baby apples on the crab apple tree, and roses blooming, and strawberries and blueberries starting. And Matt's tomato plants are being kept company by aubergine, pepper and chili plants, and I planted beans yesterday. Let's hope the presence of the ginger Kray cats keeps the birds off. Next year I'm going to try potatoes in bags!

And if you think that I've turned into a mad hippy (or more of one than before), I'm feeling inadquate after dinner with Fran and other old friends and discovering that we were the only couple that DIDN'T have an allotment. We're all turning into Tom and Barbara's! We've even ordered a water butt. I'll be voting Green next. ;o)

Z xxx

Just wanted to add that Merck are doing a very good campaign in the US called "tell someone", educating people on the HPV virus which is one of the most common viruses, yet the least known about. HPV is the reason we have pap smears. In all honesty, I didn't know that. I knew that smears detected abnormal cells, but I didn't know why, nor that the abnormal cells could result in cervical cancer. I don't think I was ever told that. And I was good at having paps (every 2 years in Aus, as opposed to the 3 -5 years here).

So please Tell Someone. We need to be educated more about the point of pap smears to protect other women from the experience that I'm dealing with. The irritating thing is that men carry HPV but they can't be tested for it!

Sorry for not posting for a while - I'm trying to adjust to some sort of life again! Things are getting busier at work and so I'm there more, plus we've been either away at weekends or in the garden, and I'm also trying to deal with some of the longer term side effects of treatment (dodgy tum, muscle ache, fatigue and menopause - oh joy).

I had a check up and so far so good which is a postive thing. I have to go back in June. Of course, because it was my margins that were not clear enough it's hard for them to measure, but they seemed pleased with me and I came out armed with HRT and instructions on how to deal with things post radiotherapy (bleurgh).

I'm very tired today - a bit of sunshine and people start buying sandals so it was a very full on at work this morning. But I'm also slowly trying to exercise as am feeling blobbish and have not been able to do much do to treatment (one forgets how much the pelvic area is used and effected by things). So am doing short bursts on the water rower in an attempt to do get fitter again.

We're both looking forward to our holiday in Italy, even though it's going to cost a LOT in insurance (yes, even Europe) and forget North America, it's almost impossible to get insurance for there if you have or have had cancer, which is depressing. As I'm hoping to do a trek to raise money for the Marsden next year, I hope that it is not too prohibitive - the one I'm keen on doing is to China!

Wil post again sooner next time!

Z xxx

Some of Kew's Magnolias

Spring has finally sprung and it seems prophetic that it should happen so late, yet coincide with the end of my treatment. It's wonderful to see the blossom start to come out and the flowers bloom. It feels so hopeful.

We went to Kew with Col on Thursday - a beautiful sunny day - and we walked a lot, more than I have in a long time, and looked at the plants. The magnolias were out, looking resplendent and rather symbolic.

I'm still having up and downs. I find myself getting tired a lot still and have at least one day a week when something triggers a dodgy tummy and vomiting, oh joy. I need to learn not to try and run before I can walk.

Looking forward to Easter and the cast of thousands as we head to Oxfordshire and a family get together. I hear that an easter egg hunt is planned for the "children" (the youngest being Tam and 20!).

Z x

Springtime in Kew Gardens

Well it's now a week since I had my last treatment and I'm slowly starting to feel human again. The steroids are working their way out of my system and I don't feel as jittery and spaced out as I was, and the metallic taste is gradually lessening. I've managed to drink white wine and will have to see if red wine still tastes awful! I still have emergency dashes too the loo (an effect of having pelvic radiotherapy) but it's more or less manageable, though I'm still being careful what I eat.

At the Marsden you come across so many people that are sick and the irony is that for the most part everyone felt fine before they were diagnosed - there are not many other diseases that the treatment makes you feel WORSE than you did when you started! But it's good to be coming through it now. In a month I have a check up.

Some nice things happened this week too. Col is here, which is great. We've booked a holiday. And I went to a thing called Look Good Feel Good, which is for cancer patients and is basically a girlie afternoon playing with makeup. It was lots of fun and it was nice to meet other women with other cancers who are all battling this disease with, for the most part, great attitude and grace. I saw my treatment as a job (admittedly a not very nice one!) that had to be done as did many of the ladies I spoke to yesterday and I really think that helped me get through it. And those Aussie battler genes!

The other thing that happened was that I got a message from one of the forums I post on from a girl who has just been diagnosed with cervical cancer. I won't say any more to protect her privacy, except that she had read this blog from start to finish and had found it very helpful. That completely validated my reasons for writing here. Apart from keeping in touch with my friends and family, I hoped it would help someone. And it has, and that is something that I can take from all of this. It was upsetting when I was accused of being attention seeking when I decided to be up front with it all. That was never my intention (believe me, this is attention that I'd never normally choose to have!), and to have someone say that I've helped them made my day!

I'm also reading Pollyanna again, it makes me smile. For those of you who have never read it. it's about a little girl and a game that her father teaches her which is the "glad game". It's about finding something to be glad about whatever the situation.

I'm not so good at the glad game I'll admit, but I do find that being positive helps. Of the people I've met at the Marsden, those that get on with it and battle through the bad times with humour and grace seem to do better than those who are angry and bitter and complain. That's not to say that there aren't bad days or days that you want to whinge a bit, or days that it's hard to get out of bed, or are in pain, or generally a little pissed off; but life's too short to be angry or rude or nasty all the time. And I certainly believe that "you reap what you sow" to quote Lou Reed (and our wedding dance!).

I feel sorry for those people that can't see that the reason people at the hospital know me by name is that I make an effort to smile and say hello and have a chat with people. Last week I met a woman who said that breast cancer has ruined her life. That was so sad to me, as cancer has changed things in many ways, but I'm still me and it certainly hasn't ruined my life. I'm not glad that I have cancer, but it really has made me appreciate what I have, especially in terms of love and friendship.

That's my final radiation DONE DONE DONE!

Tummy's a bit sore, but I celebrated today with a good old british bacon buttie (have been on a low fat diet during all of this). Am so happy, though a little tired and battered.

Appointment with the consultant in 4 weeks. But saw the nurse today and apparently my bloods look really good and my haemoglobin levels are better than they expected at this stage (whatever that means)!

Oh, and the nasty nurse actually apologised to me! :)

Well, Chemo has finished and I only have three radiation zaps to go - I feel like I can see the finish line now. Last week's chemo was the worst, it was quite painful as the fluid went in and I'd get a shot of pain whenever it was restarted. And soon I'll be on less drugs and my sense will slowly return. I've been listening a lot to Johnny Cash and one of his songs, Hurt, has a resonance to me - it's about addiction, but it has parallels with the feeling that all the chemicals in my blood make me feel. It's a strange place to be in, when feeling pain makes you feel alive.

But it's going to be up from here on in and that's a good thing. I can start planning for our future and have some projects to look forward to at work and home and a holiday to organise. I'm taking things easy though - everything in baby steps and my priority now is to get strong physically and give my mind a rest or a different challenge. It's not over by anymeans - it's going to be a slow journey, but slow's not a bad thing sometimes, as it lets you take notice of the things around you.

Again, thank you all for your support and love over the last few months. It's helped me stay strong.

Z xxx

Yesterday, on the whole was a crap day. Imagine one of those days after a busy week at work where you just can't seem to do anything right and add on the fact that you are being drip fed poison and have a drip machine that keep having a tantrum because the battery flattens and you're half way there.

It was made so much better by having Deborah there - we hadn't seen each other for ages so it was a great opportunity to catch up on gossip and put the world to rights and to just have her there when it all got too much.

So what happened? I'm over half way through so keeping up the skiing analogy I had a wobble on the down hill piste. Deborah made a good substitute for ski patrol in terms of rescue (as did wonderful nurses Steph and Nichola), although I will state that none of them look like the 6 foot, tanned clones that sledged me down in Vail.

It was one of those days where you just can't seem to get things right - lost too much weight too quickly, not been taking enough fluid, had bloods too early, blah blah) and then a beeeeach of a radiotherapy nurse told me off in front of the entire waiting room and staff for missing an appointment yesterday (even though she was in a meeting and I was told I'd have to wait over an hour) and my drip feed was throwing some sort of tantrum and bleeping and no one could stop it.

And she said she couldn't see me and somehow it was all my fault. And I got back to the chemo unit and cried. Nichola came and saw me and was lovely and is going to come with me today.I've had a big week at work (interviewing and meetings) and am tired and run down (though my iron is ok) and I feel fried inside and it all was just too much.

BUT the great news is that I was speaking to Nichola about the pamphlets that they give out for chemo and radio and how they could be more helpful and I said how I'm a writer by trade (though it's not what I do now) and would love to re write them and she said, well actually we're redoing the radiotherapy one and I'll get you involved. I'm really excited that I'll get a chance to give something back and help other people.

It was also sad yesterday as one of my Hystersisters passed away - she had ovarian cancer and was the same age as me. I knew that in this journey I'd come across people that might no make it and it makes it more shocking and sad in a way because I know we are all fighting so hard. It's a very personal battle, yet we are together in this.

I feel sometime that gynae cancers are not taken as seriously as other cancers as they are embarrassing and also because when they are caught in time there are high success rates. It's one of the reasons I write this blog to try and educate women that there is nothing to be a shamed about by talking about these things. I hear stories of women who have nasty comments about cervical cancer because it's caused by an STD. Well something like 80% of the sexually active population carry the virus And the HPV virus that causes cervical cancer is a DIFFERENT strain to genital warts. And the jury is still out on whether it is caught just by sexual transmission. We are the unlucky ones who for some unknown reason contracted cancer.

Aolpogies to the Hystersisters who have already read some of this - I'm too tired to write other stuff! There is a lot more I want to say, so might try and do another update on the weekend.

Wow, I'm half way through the chemo which is rather uplifting. Nearly half way through the radiation too. Can see a glimmer of light through the tunnel. Yesterday was fun, cos Trace came on Chemo duty so it was good to gabber all day and take my mind off things!

I laughed at Pip's comments about wearing nice undies - they are mainly girls who treatment and very efficient. I don't think they have time to notice the undies so at the moment it's still Bridget Jones ones as I still can't fit into anything else and also I get pen marks on me so wouldn't want to ruin anything nice. Oh for the return of days of little wispy things!!

Anyway things I've learned over the last week:

1. I don't feel bad on the actual chemo day. It's after that I feel crumby - buy the weekend I'm tired.
2. What they say about the metallic taste of chemo is true. It's constant. Highly flavoured sweets/lollies/candies are my friend. I first noticed it when I couldn't stomach a good old British cuppa.
3. I feel like a drug cocktail, which I guess I am. Was quite scared on Monday as I could'nt remember ANYTHING with out writing it down, was jityery and I couldn't focus. I still don't know how I held it together at work as it must have been v noticable - my boss did comment and said that I'd done a good job. mmmmm. The easiest way of describing it is if everything in my vision had moved slightly to the left and would keep shifting. They think it might be the steriods they have given me for anti nausea so they are adjusting my meds. Urgh.
4. There is no consistency to what I feel like eating on any given day. And what I feel like eating has no correlation on how I'll feel AFTER eating it.
5. Bananas and immodium are my friend thanks to the radiation.
6. Eating little and often helps. Miso soup is another life saver.
7. The jury is out on the low fat thing - it's supposed to help the diahrroea, but certainly's not stopped. It's hard to get enough protein and high fibre is hard to eat too. And veggies (unless in soup) turn my stomach which goes against all my normal eating. Fruit is great, partly because it combats the taste in my mouth.
8. While I'm being careful, chemo days are days when I am less strict. It helps to have the occasional treat.
9. Berry is now obessed with the water fountain - he gets stroppy it's turned off. H's new favourite seat is under the kitchen table listening to it flow!
10. Blue was a doctor or healer in a former life - he's being very attentive of me.

Thank you also for the other comments - I'm very appreciative of the support. Being at the Marsden I'm surrounded by amazing people. The staff are so great, but I'm also interested in observing others around me. I notice how some deal with things with grace - WHATEVER they go through and others just complain and are rude. I know it's hard to deal with all this but to me negativity is so toxic. It's not to say that we don't have bad days or arguments or tears, but why take it out on someone else who's trying to help. That said I'm sometimes ready to punch the metaphorical fat bloke on the tube who refuses to offer his seat after I've had a dose of radiation. But how is he to know? I still have my hair, no excessive weight loss. Should I wear a badge or stick a cushion up my jumper? Are manners too much to ask?

But people's attitudes make me laugh in the end - I was in the lunch room at work and the girls asked me how I was feeling (it was monday so bad) and I was describing it and one of them said "Oh I feel like that everyday!" It was not just me who gave a withering look. But this is the woman who complains when the lights are on in the office because they are too bright. I suppose she has her own problems but that's the scope of her experience, I just wish she could see how lucky she is.

Z xxx

Of course that picture of me looking as glamorous as I could when dressed as a ribena berry on the ski slopes was taken just before I sat down on the mountain having a panic attack and had to be rescued by ski patrol. A whole other story and adventure but I think in future I'll ski the Victoria Beckham way - glam up for the photoshoots and then take a nice sleigh ride.

So I've had a week of radiotherapy and my first chemo session and I keep telling myself "at least you're not throwing yourself down a mountain on narrow planks of plastic" (ok not plastic but you get my drift). I think it's working. But the drugs could be helping too. Given the choice beween skiing and chemo, it's a tough call but the idea of sitting in the sun watching the snow glinting and other people throwing themsleves off mountains is an attractive prospect.

I'm now on sleeping tablets. They have made the biggest difference to my well being - before I was feeling like an over tired 5 year old who had been eating too many e numbers. On edge didn't describe it. And I didn't feel rested even if I did sleep. Now I feel much more relaxed. I'm also on a VERY VERY low dose of anti depressant - that hasn't really kicked in, but it's more of a preventative measure - my therapist wants to keep me feeling as have been off late, which is handling things.

So what's the treatment like?

Radiotherapy is all about a constant schlepp to hospital - except weekends - and I always think well it will only be a few minutes, which it is but then there seems to be other stuff like bloods to do or people I need to see so I don't get out as quickly as I like. But in a nutshell, you have to lie on this metal slab/bed (no mattress) and in my case with my pants down to my thights with a small piece of paper covering my modesty. Then they manipulate you around so that your little tattooed dots line up with the lights and mark things in pen, then you lie there while they leave the room and you're left staring at a white ceiling with bright lights like a space ship and this thing circles you and targets your dots. Sound effects are mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I am convinced that it's a form of dalek and it will start saying "exterminate, exterminate"!

Chemo is a long long day - lots of waiting around and bloods being taken and then more waiting. Then a canular put in, then a hour or two of fluid to get my kidneys going, then half an hour of something to make me pee, then two lots of anti sickness, then an hour of the actual chemo (cisplatin), then another two hours of fluid. Luckily I wasn't sick so they allowed me home after that and I could have the remaining 500mls of fluid at home, which includes soup etc. I felt a bit itchy and lightheaded almost but on the whole it wasn't too bad. It's a cummulative thing, so we'll see how I progress.

Roll on the end of March!!

Z xx

Just a quick message to all in the Serre Chevalier 2006 Ski-Party to wish you all happy holidays next week!!!

As you may already be aware, this will be the first year since my debut that I’ve not made it along, but I very much hope to be back on board in 2007.

Fear not though, I’ve found myself a “stunt-double” (although he himself said “treble”), as Chris will be filling my ski-boots. So bring on the Bandit Hat (I want to see photos)!


And don’t forget to pack those all important Tin Pants! As modeled by Zoë in the picture from Vail.

This week went incredibly quickly. It was busy, almost too busy and I seemed to be running from one place to another. And that's with only one hospital visits. It's not boding well for when I have to go in everyday! You'll notice that this blog has a new look - its because the template I was using went funny and we spent an unsuccessful few hours of geekily trying to adjust the code.

I've survived 12 hours (divided into 3 x 4 hour blocks) of work. Mostly it was reading CVs and interviewing so exhausting, but also amusing. Someone listed his personal interests as including "cocking" and another said she had been working as a "porn broker", but what astonished me more than anything is that people think it's ok to have a rude or novelty email address. It might be amusing to call yourself Handsome1 or nickerless but I can guarantee it won't get you a job.

I also went to see a therapist yesterday - I think he thinks that I'm fine. Actually I think he's rather amazed at my slightly zen like attitude to everything, but as I said, what's the point in being angry? Being negative or nasty or angry at the cancer or other people is not going to help me get well. That's not to say that I'm not sad, or blue or grumpy at times but I can't blame anyone or anything. I'll admit I don't have much patience for fuckwittage though! But ultimately there's a much bigger picture out there and everyone has their crosses to bear*. Anyway he was a nice man and it was good to talk to someone that has no emotional attachment. I felt I could cry freely without anyone getting upset. He's recommended me some books - not so much self help but more that he thinks I'd be interested in. He says my attitude is courageous - I don't think it is, I think you just have to battle on to survive in this world. You just do the best you can.

We're going away for an early Valentine's treat tonight to the Petersham which is where we had our first married night. It's going to be a lovely little bit of luxury before all the crap - the restaurant is great so we're really looking forward to some "us" time, with the added benefit of not having a cat jumping on the bed at the wrong time!

On Monday I have to go to have a simulated scan and then on Thursday it's The Real Thing. Nervous is not the word. Given most of the women I know who have had this type of radiotherapy have had a bad time of it, I'm not looking forward to this month at all.

Z xxx

* Always reminds me of Gladly the Cross eyed Bear!

This week has probably been the worst for a while, in some ways and in others the best. It started with a call to the hospital to tell them that I'm going ahead with the treatment and then a call back asking me to come in on Tuesday. It’s all happening so quickly after nothing really happening at all. A lot of tears have been shed and we’ve both been feeling drained and tired and nervous and stressed.

The meeting on Tuesday went over what I had to expect and planned my appointments - the radiation will be everyday (except weekends) from 16 February (Matt's birthday!) for 5 weeks, and the chemo will be a whole day for 4 weeks starting on 23 February.

Meeting with the Deborahs (on different days) certainly made life seem better, even though trying to find somewhere that served Elevenses, or indeed knew what it was, was almost impossible. Most disappointed by the Ritz who let us down terribly - anywhere that serves afternoon tea at 11 am and charges £38 for the privilege is taking the proverbial. What happened to crumpets? Any way we were saved by the Wolseley (again).

That place is very good - great service and food and not as expensive as one would think. Deborah T treated me to a threading experience, which is an Indian way of shaping eyebrows and in fact definitely worth a return visit. I didn’t sneeze once and have a much better shape than waxing gives! Meeting a tweeded acquaintance of hers (our man in somewhere exotic) in the lingerie shop Myla was slightly surreal - as was us giving one of the members of staff legal and financial advice! No one can accuse my friends of being boring!

I spent all day Thursday at the Marsden having various tests. It was a long and tedious day, highlighted by meeting my husband for lunch and bumping into one of the women from the Hystersisters board (who recognised me from the blog and my handbag!). Kayla is an amazingly brave woman and inspirational - she’s joined my group of “battlers”!

I woke up yesterday with a squiffy tummy and decided to have a day off. I couldn’t get warm and was happily blaming it on the central heating until I took my temperature and it was over 100°! I slept most of the day and night, so caught up on the sleepless nights that have been the norm of late. I’m not quite ready to eat normal food, but my temperature is back to normal and I’m slowly rehydrating. At least this is practice for the radiation.

I’ve changed some of the links on the side. This is because my friend Natalia is running the marathon in April so I wanted to include a link to her page.

I’m back to work (part time) next week. I’m looking forward to it mainly though there are one or two stresses that I’m NOT relishing.

Z xx

There comes a point in time when you have to stop chasing rainbows.

To look at Zoë now you’d never know there was anything wrong with her. In fact, there may not be anything wrong with her - at least in terms of the cancer - but how can we be sure?

Surgery has successfully removed the tumour, but at this point in time they can’t be sure they’ve eliminated all the cancer cells that may lie in the surrounding tissue. As such, in order to be as positive as we can be that the cancer won’t come back, a course of radiotherapy and chemo has been recommended - but there will be side-affects.

Of course, she doesn’t have to have the treatment… She may be OK. But the doctor’s might just as well quote Dirty Harry: “You've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky?...... Well, do ya punk?”

(And incidentally, it’s not just a case of “let’s see how we go, we can always try the radiotherapy if it does come back”. Oh no, it’s not that simple - chances are, if it does, it will be worse.)

It doesn’t really leave us with a lot of choice. Our number one priority has been - and always will be - that Zoë gets better, and neither of us is prepared to gamble on that.

So we’re both agreed that the radiotherapy option is the safest way to go, but as you may know, the hope that we might still have our own children is something we’ve been holding out for. We realised early on that this was, at best, unlikely, but I think we both thought - hoped even - that we’d still got a chance.

There were a couple possibilities that might give us a chance in the future, but the fact that they would involve further surgery - possibly extensive - meant they were not really practical. Zoë’s only just recovered from her last operation, and more surgery is the last thing she needs before embarking on the radiotherapy - and besides neither of these options were in any way guaranteed.

Realistically then the only practical option we were look at was the prospect of surrogacy - an emotionally difficult concept to accept - never mind the logistics of actually finding a suitable surrogate and achieving a successful pregnancy.

I think before we went to the hospital last Thursday we both believed that the 'egg harvesting' required to keep this hope alive was a mere formality. Regrettably however, it is not.

In short, we’d basically be looking at only one shot at an IVF cycle (a cycle many couples will have to go through several times to achieve a pregnancy - because the success rate is so low – even without complications such as Zoë’s) so the odds are stacked against us.

Every step of the way we’ve been given hope that we might yet still have our own children. The odds have never been good, and now they’re verging on astronomical. Furthermore, we can’t afford to keep waiting - if the radiotherapy and chemo are to be effective, then we need to act soon.

It’s a tough decision, but we’re both agreed on one thing: It’s time to move on and remember our number one priority... So we’re off to the hospital tomorrow to get the radiotherapy ball rolling.

Well, happy Australia Day (and Happy Birthday, Caroline!). Not much to report, but we're off to the fertility people this afternoon and an appointment with a naturopath tomorrow. In the meantime, here's a picture of Blue and Berry all grown up!

The last week or so has been very up and down. It's been hard to be at home with everyone else at work after the sociality of Christmas. And of course I'm now feeling better after the surgery but with the next lot of treatments looming ahead. It's hard to stay postitive in all honesty. I've been feeling isolated and somewhat depressed, a little forgotten about as everyone gets back into the New Year.

But there seems to have been a bit of confusiuon about my treatments. I WILL have to have radiation and Chemo. These will probably be in March. We have an appointment with the fertility people, but this is not about us having our own baby but the possibility of preserving my eggs or embryos so that we can look for a surrogate in the future. Sorry to be blunt but right now I'm feeling that there's no end to all of this.

I am however looking at going back to work part-time. I don't want to commit to full-time (if I ever do) until I feel fitter and my treatments are over, especially as Chemo taks up a whole day. If I have to go into town everyday for radiation, I may as well use that trip for other means.

Anyway to keep me focussed I'm working on a scrapbook of the wedding which I'm enjoying a lot.

Love

Z xx

Happy New Year. Let's hope it's a good one as Lennon said.

We had a lovely break - was nice to be away from hospitals and have "us" time and talk, and take walks and have naps, and breathe fresh air. Coming back was hard though and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

We went to the hospital today and saw the radiotherapy consultant. Another nice man. He talked through things with us again and in all honesty it looks more and more like I'll need radiation. We still have to see the fertility doc and find out our options there (including egg harvesting etc). And now we have a better idea about what to expect in terms of what will happen to my body during the treatment.

Until we've seen the fertility person it's hard to put a time frame on things but it looks like I'll be having my treatment in March - that will be 5 weeks external radiation, some internal and chemo. It's pretty hard emotionally to deal with everything so I've asked to be referred to a counsellor so I can talk to someone impartial about things in general.

On a positive note it looks like Col will be in the country at the end of March, so something to look forward to, and I'm starting some light exercise (walking and pilates).

Thanks to Ness for sending me a wonderful book - thank you - I really enjoyed it and am very proud of you (Ness has set up a small publishing company to reprint rare children's books). Anne, I hear that you are going to be marking Cancer Day partly in my honour, thank you too, it means a lot. To the other person who sent me the Bugsy Malone DVD, thank you too, you know who you are and it's much appreciated! And everyone else who have sent me things and love and good wishes, thanks again. I miss the Fools so much, but I can't go back at the moment which is frustrating and upsetting, espeically as I could use the entertainment right now!

Our outreach nurse was saying today that undernormal circumstances I'd have the all clear by now, and so it's no wonder we feel like this is going on and on. It is very frustrating.

Z xx

I hope everyone had as nice a Christmas as we did - we were at Matt's parents and ate constantly. I didn't drink that much booze as kept falling asleep any way! My contribution was making the Christmas cake and pudding before my op. I'm not quite Nigella but both were well received. We also got some wonderful gifts and felt very spoilt. We'll spend NY with Jayne and Joss and the Graham clan in the country which will be nice.

I have had so much time to reflect over the last few weeks/months. This year has been an extraordinary one for so many people - there has been so much illness and disaster. Yet at the same time there's been immense joy at times.

In their Christmas letter Ann and Jon used the quote from the Tale of Two Cities about the best of times and the worst of times and it's so appropriate. Ann has had pretty evil treatment (I think I've got off lightly in some ways) but like me has seen how much love and kindness there is in this world. Cancer is a strange blessing - it opens more doors than it closes I think. For me, I know that things will never be the same. Many things will be better although some feel quite final. But it has certainly strengthened many old friendships and created new ones. I think it's also created a much stronger bond in my "patchwork" family - the wedding brought people closer together in both mine and Matt's families, but this experience has cemented it.

A word that plays in my mid a lot is faith. Not religous Faith necessarily, but I've had to put a lot of faith and trust into other people which is not something that has ever been easy to me. With cancer, you need more than hope, hope is the desire and expecation of getting well. Faith is the complete trust that you WILL get well, that your mind and body will cope, that the doctors will do their job and that your friends and family will support you - plus there is the faith that there is something out there that guides you. I understand religous faith now, more than ever although for me it's not about Gods or Angels but about the spirit inside.

That's all got quite heavy, and please excuse my whitterings on, but I guess I'm spending too much time alone! However, I found some quotes that touched me a little and have made me think and I'd like to share them:

We have not lost faith, but we have transferred it from God to the medical profession.
GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

I feel no need for any other faith than my faith in the kindness of human beings. I am so absorbed in the wonder of earth and the life upon it that I cannot think of heaven and angels.
PEARL S. BUCK

Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime,
Therefore, we are saved by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;
Therefore, we are saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone.
Therefore, we are saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite a virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own;
Therefore, we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.
REINHOLD NIEBUHR

The only resolution I have this new year is to get better - I can't think further than that at the moment. I really hope that this year is a better one for all.

Happy New Year everyone.

Z xxx

We had a great time at Paul and Sarah's wedding - it felt great to be wearing a pretty dress and heels and make up - I even danced! It was good therapy. I was very tired and sore afterwards but it was worth it, just to feel human again.

I've added a feature for the comments on this blog which means I or Matt sees them before they are published. Just as well because today I got another nasty one - apparently me not having children is a reason to celebrate because I'm ugly and would spread the cancer. Merry Christmas to you too. It amazes me just how poisonous people can be.

Pip asked what GolightlyCat means - well it's a screen name I adopted ages ago using Breakfast at Tiffany as inspiration. The main character is Holly Golightly and she had a ginger cat called Cat. Thanks for all your comments Pip - they are appreciated. I'll be in touch after Christmas. Am jealous of the hot weather, but also love cold wintery Christmas with the lights and holly and fir trees and fires. We're spending it in Yorkshire, then back to London then Oxfordshire for New Year and then a couple of days at the Lakes in Cumbria. It will be cold and wild, but I like a bit of weather and all the better for snuggling! :o)

We went back to the hospital yesterday. It's all very complicated but they are recommending that I have radiation. Apparently my margins are 3.5 mm and they usually prefer 1 cm to feel confident that the cancer won't return. So we have some decisions to make. BUT we've been given sometime to think and talk and also see a fertility expert which will help us get some more information together.

If I have radiation the standard treatment (for all cancers I think) is about 28 days of short zaps of external radiation and then a day or so of internal radiation, coupled with low dose chemo. It doesn't hurt but there are both long and short term side effects (which can be worse after surgery) so we have to weigh up that and the risk of the cancer coming back.

Hmmmm.

Anyway have a wonderful, peaceful and happy Christmas everybody.

Z xxx

Well, after the drama of last week I've turned a corner recovery wise - am feeling much much better and even managed a shopping trip to buy an outfit for Sarah's wedding (I really reccommend John Lewis's personal shopping service, it's free and stress free and anything that does not involve me turning into a tearful wreck at not finding anything to fit has to be a good thing). Am so looking forward to dressing up up and feeling feminine and pretty - as much as I love my Primark PJ bottoms, they are not exactly glamorous!

The pathology results however are not looking good. They only arrived today so Mr Ind had not had a chance to look at them properly but basically they have confirmed what he feared -not that I have a problem with cancer but that there is another issue that needs addressing. Apparently when I was in surgery they found that I had extensive endometriosis. They tried to remove as much of the cancer and the endo as they could but the pathology results look like the margins for the cancer are too close to call (because of the endo), so I'm not out of the woods. This means that it's highly likely that I'm going to have to have more treatment - and that is going to be radical.

I'll be honest - this is devastating. To have a small chance and to grab it only for it to slip out of reach is really frustrating. What is more, is that for most of my adult life I've had "women's problems" and have generally been told that my painful periods were normal and that I should take the pill and painkillers etc. I'll also add that most of the time this has been with women doctors who have had the attitude "we all have period pain". It has also had a huge impact on my career path and how people viewed me when I was in so much pain that I couldn't dance. I look back and think about how I was treated at dance school and while I know that was in the past it's incredibly painful to know that I wasn't making it up.

By the same token I don't have regrets about the path my life has taken - after all I've met Matt and I'm very happy. I just feel incredibly let down by the health system (and not just the NHS but Aussie docs too).

Again I'm exhausted. The idea of more treatment scares me, especially as it might involve more surgery. We go back to clinic on Tuesday and have to have more talks about treatment and also some serious decsions to make. As Ronan Keating sang "Life is a roller coaster baby, you just gotta ride it". I think that's our theme song right now.

I wanted to extend more thanks to everyone for their comments here, and emails and books (thanks Ness and Deborah and Kate etc etc), for the Christmas cards and texts and general friendship and laughter. I have managed to send some Christmas cards out, but I apologise if I've forgotten anyone - our thoughts are with you all.

Finally don't forget it's the Strictly Come Dancing final on Saturday - the remaining three are all fabulous in their own ways so I'm not too bothered about who wins but it's good old fashioned escapism and that's good medicine!

Z xx

Before I start, I’d just like to thank everyone who’s been asking after us, it’s been a while since we posted anything here - so apologies for keeping you hanging on, but here’s a brief update.

OK, so no beating around the bush, December’s not been a good month so far, and we’re both hoping it’s going to get a lot better in the run up to the Christmas holidays.

As you know, Zoë was doing fantastically well post-op, and making a good recovery here at home - slowly but surely getting her strength and mobility back. This past week however, she’s been really quite poorly, and we’ve been back and forth to the doctors and in touch with the hospital on several occasions.

Yesterday was probably the worst day. Earlier this week Zoë had been prescribed antibiotics as it was feared an infection was the reason for her downturn; but the nausea they induced reached a new high, and you can probably guess what happened.

Anyway, I don’t want to worry you all unnecessarily, and I’d like to reassure you that although she’s some way from perfect health, Zoë's looking much much brighter this evening than she has all week. (Thankfully the antibiotics proved unnecessary, so she's off those too.)

It’s been very tough though, and our attempts to return to anything like normality have been somewhat thwarted. We’re shattered, as it’s both physically and emotionally draining, so some things - like posting updates to the blog - have had to take a back seat.

Still, I think things are on the up again now, so let’s hope the trend continues, and that our visit to the clinic next week brings more good news.

Matt

I'm realising quickly that I mustn't push myself as much as I have been - yesterday I took less pain killers and took a walk. The walk was good but without the pain killers I ended up tired and cranky and feeling horrible.

But the good news is BLUE IS BACK!!! I went downstairs on Monday morning and there he was - 10 days later. Little shit. Of course Berry's nose is totally out of joint having taken on the role of top cat. He'd been a bit lonely but was coping admirably ;o) so now he's hissing and refusing to be in the same room as Blue. He'll get over it. If only they could talk!

Now a certain friend of mine (you know who you are) has her first ever smear test yesterday and complained about how awful it was. Well, yes they ARE awful but it's better to suffer a tiny amount of indignity than lots (combined with pain etc). So girlies MAKE SURE YOU GO. And while I'm in lecture mode, check your boobs as well. And boys your check your bits. It's better to check and not find anything or to find something and get it sorted than stick heads in sand. I was pretty good about getting checked and still ended up like this, but thank God they found it in time.

Ok, time's up. It's rest time now.

Z xxx

I'm loving being at home. It's peaceful here and Matt's mum, Lyn has been keeping me company. She and Derek have gone to Pompey this weekend to help Em and Steve move (they've had a stressful time of it too). We've had a lovely quiet few days - I've caught up on Strictly Come Dancing (sequins! yay!) and we've put the world to rights. I'm so lucky with such supportive parents and in-laws!

As far as my brain being fried with daytime TV - it is already fried with the amount of drugs I'm taking. I need them for the pain but they make me feel weird and floaty and I can't think straight. In a way it's probably just as well as one of our cats, Blue is still missing and without the sedation I'd be distraught. As it is I find it hard to do anything other than sit and dribble at the moment!

Hospital was weird - I find it hard to deal with the lack of privacy. I know it's odd given I'm quite open about things but when you're dealing with other people's sounds and smells so openly (like commodes by beds) it's deeply unpleasant. Not their fault by any means just strange.

I really kept to my own ward but I did meet some amazing women. One girl had an ovarian cyst - and had been palmed off by the doctors who said that she was just gaining weight and stuff. Eventually she had a scan and it was diagnosed. There was so much fluid in there that you could hear it slosh. It was removed on Monday and weighed 17 pounds.

What was good about hospital was that we were all in there for the same reason - to try and get well. It didn't matter what stage the cancer was at or what the treatment was, we all had the same goal, and some hope. We all suffered pain and embarrassment and indignity. On Tuesday I cried all day - everything had hit me. It was the first time I'd done that and I needed it. No one said anything like "keep your chin up" or anything - they just understood that it was part of the process. We also found things to laugh about - like when I was so delighted at having my bladder catheter out that the whole ward (if not floor) heard me yell "Thank you!". Or when I had my other catheter removed and there was still a stitch left inside me and the doctors turned up with a huge torch to stry and locate it. You have to see the funny side when you have your legs splayed and a torch shining at you.

I know that recovery will take a while but am rather proud with my progress so far - apparently I have a high pain threshold because everyone was astounded at how little morphine I self administered. I think years of dancing and putting myself throught that sort of pain paid off in the most unexpected way!

Thank you to those of you that have sent cards/emails/blog comments flowers/magazines/books/visited. It really has been appreciated. Matt's printed out things and showed them to me when I was in hospital.

Finally a message for Fools (stop reading if you are not a member of TMF). I think many of you have realised that I'm not posting there any more, and neither is Matt. The events before my operation were extremely hurtful especially as we felt unable to express our side of the story due to pulled posts etc. I don't want to be be exposed to the toxins there right now. Many many of you have been wonderful and supportive and I thank you, but I was shocked at being accused of being attention seeeking and everything else that I had dished out at me. I was also shocked at the rather obvious lack of support from some in the community. I know that things like that are trivial in the bigger picture but for me the Fool has been a big part of my life (after all I wouldn't have met Matt or made some fantastic friends otherwise) and I felt very let down. It's time for me to focus on the people that genuinely care about me and I'll keep in touch with y'all off board. Hugs Z xxxx

So I'm home and shouldn't really be posting, but thought I'd say thanks for all your messages and love and good vibes. I feel like a portion of cod - battered. But on the whole I'm pretty good. Being in hospital reminded me that however bad it is there's always someone worse off than you - I'll tell some stories when more up to it.

But I have to say, being at home is wonderful - my own bed and smells and the right amount of quiet. Am going to end up being one of those old ladies (all being well) that refuses to go to hospital.

And I really do have wonderful friends. And I really really did marry a wonderful man. I knew I had good taste, but who was to know just how much I'd need him so soon?

Lots of love

Z xxx

In case you’re wondering how she’s doing, you might like to know she’s home tonight. The doctors are amazed at her rapid recovery, so much so that they’ve let her out sooner than anyone thought possible.

Yesterday was not such a great day - I think the events of the past few days finally caught up - but as I write, she’s tucked up in bed and very glad to be home.

I’m afraid that’s just about all I can manage to post, as I’m shattered (again)... Just one final comment - you might like to know that I did find the English ‘Marie Claire’ and took it in to her yesterday!

“Could you pick me up a ‘Marie Claire’ on your way?” was the last thing Zoë said to me when I telephoned her from work this afternoon.

I was back in the office today, or as I prefer to see it; making an extended visit on my way in to see Zoë (in order that we can pay the bills).

I’ve seen enough copies of Marie Claire scattered around the house to know pretty well what they look like; however, I couldn’t see a copy anywhere in the newsagents along with the usual women’s magazines. No problem though - I spotted a copy a little further to the right and purchased it.

Once again Zoë looked much better than yesterday, indeed the number of tubes, machines and attached devices are now at an absolute minimum... Believe me, when I first saw her come out of surgery she had just about everything going - but I spared you the details, as I didn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily.

Shortly after passing the Marie Claire to her, Zoë had a quick thumb through it then started to laugh. I wasn’t too sure what was so funny, but it amused her immensely... Then it dawned on me - I’d purchased the French edition!

It was great to see her laughing though - perhaps I’ll pick up an English-French dictionary on my way in tomorrow.

Just a quick post to let you all know that the Zoë we saw at the hospital today was looking a whole lot better the one we saw yesterday.

There’s certainly a marked improvement in the 24 hours or so since surgery, and by all accounts the doctors are very pleased with her progress.

More good news then - here’s hoping that trend continues.

Goodnight all!

Talk about a long day! I thought it would never end...

I was in the Marsden shortly after 7am this morning, to be sure I got there in time to meet with the surgeon, and more importantly see Zoë before the surgery.

I’ll spare you the details, because I know you’ll only really interested in one thing, and the good news is that Zoë’s doing fine.

She went down to surgery around 8:45am and came back around 3:45pm (yes, that’s 7 hours pacing - although I freely admit I sat for most of it), and thankfully everything went relatively to plan. ‘Plan A’ that is.

Even better news was that the lymph nodes were clear (actually they had to be for them to go ahead with ‘Plan A’), but that in itself was a great relief - especially as there was one very suspicious looking node showing up on the scans.

When I left tonight Zoë could probably best be described as ‘groggy’ and not especially comfortable, but even in the few hours I spent with her post-op, she was improving noticeably.

All in all then, it’s very good news, but there’s now a bit of a wait for the biopsy results that follow the surgery, and Zoë’s an awful long way from being up and about.

There's a long way to go then, but the news so far is good!

As I said, it was a long day, so excuse the brevity of my post - but I’m shattered.

Another weird week, which included me being accused of being attention seeking. For the record there are other ways of getting attention and I would not wish this on anyone. And certainly could do without the attention. I could also do without toxic people but I guess that it's hard to avoid in life.

Yesterday had the trial MRI - involved a probe in my unspeakables (sorry as open as I am I can't bring myself to be that open on the internet!) which took close up pictures of the tumour which means they can properly get the size. Yhe trial bit was a measurement of the chemical make up - they get a line reading through the scanner apparently. Somehow managed to fall asleep - partly because I've been so exhausted and stressed. They were lovely people and so I did feel at ease although it wasn't the most comfortable thing I've had.

Anyway. I'm off to the hospital today and op tommorrow. Matt will post here when he can. Am feeling rather wobbly about it all - partly because of the surgery and partly because I'm not sure what will happen. It's very hard to prepare for an outcome when you don't know what it will be.

Thanks again for all the lovely comments - they really do help. It's nice to feel so loved.

Hugs

Z xxx

Not much to add because we're back waiting again - the clock's ticking until my op.

But I wanted to thank some wonderful women for their support - from books and dvds to afternoon tea amd MORE chocolate. I also want to thank Sarah and the Hens for such a fab night on saturday night and making me feel so welcome. It was such a good feeling to let my hair down and get dressed up and have a laugh. And laugh we did.

I've included a couple of pictures from that night, including a great one that Sarah took of me with short(er) hair. And yes I am wearing a paper hat from a cracker - Christmas is coming!+

Me with short hair!

The Bride

The Hens

This entry was written before I realized Zoë had already posted today, so there’s quite a lot of repetition in here. Funny though how she can sum it all up in a few short paragraphs, when I seem to go on... And I’m supposed to be the quiet one!

As ardent followers of the blog will know, yesterday we were back in hospital for more tests, and a meeting with the surgeon himself - Mr Ind. (Yes that should be ‘Mister’ and not ‘Doctor’ apparently it distinguishes the surgeons from the doctors.)

We began with an early morning trip to the Royal Brompton hospital where Zoë had to visit the Nuclear Medicine department for an injection of a ‘glow-in-the-dark’ substance that would be used for her bone scan later that day.

Despite this appearing to be a relatively busy department, we were in and out of there in a relatively short space of time, and then off to the Royal Marsden.

Thankfully the Royals (i.e. Brompton and Marsden) are just around the corner from each other, so it was no more than a 10 minute walk between the two. Good news when you consider the relatively tight schedule we were on!

Back in outpatients at the Marsden, after a few minutes waiting, we were ushered into a small room and told Mr Ind would be along to see us shortly. This, now familiar routine (waiting to see someone), is always a little unnerving as you sit there in the clinical surroundings.

Each time it seems to take a little longer for me to come up with some humorous comment about either some strange looking apparatus; the nurse (who yesterday was determined to dissuade us from having a flu-jab, on the basis it all but gave her flu last year); or anything else that springs to mind.

Personally I think I may have peaked when on the last occasion I suggested the device mounted in the room was in fact a periscope used to seek out and destroy Traffic Wardens in the area - but however stupid the suggestion, it matters not what is said if it raises a smile on Zoë’s face.

Mr Ind came in and told us again about the plans for next week's surgery. This was basically a recap of the news we’d been told last week by other members of his team, but this time from the man himself. Despite the repetition, it was good to hear again, as we’re bombarded by so much information every time we visit that it sometimes takes a while to sink in.

The only downside to us seemed that he was a little more sceptical about the likely success of the particular surgery - but in a strange way it’s actually reassuring that he’s open about all possibilities rather than raising expectations too high. At least we’re aware that there’s always a chance ‘Plan B’ will come into play.

After this it was down to the basement to Day Surgery where Zoë had her pre-op examinations. All fairly standard stuff really - height, weight, pulse and blood pressure and then a chat with another doctor.

Next we were off for another x-ray and then there was just enough time for a quick bite to eat in the canteen before heading back to the Brompton where the David Bailey of the Nuclear Medicine team was awaiting Zoë for her close-up.

A busy day then, but we got a lot done in a relatively short space of time. Mr Ind has requested one final test before the surgery; some sort of new MRI scan which she’ll be undertaking as part of a clinical trial. We’ve no problem with that though - the more information the surgeon has the better, it can only be a good thing!

I forgot to mention that in a rather random moment last week I saw the queen. Was just wondering into Kingston minding my own business when I was diverted by police to the other side of the road and suddenly there she was looking like a rather elegant Ribena berry.

Matt and I are still suffering from this cold and so it was rather miserable to have to head up to the hospital for MORE tests. We had to go to the Brompton for my injection and then to the Marsden and then back to the Brompton for my scan.

Saw my surgeon - he's more pessimistic than the other doctor last week as my tumour is quite big but he's keeping an open mind, just preparing us for the worst I think. Have to have ANOTHER scan next week in Sutton - it's part of a trial so not only will it help me, but also hopefully help other people - animal testing, but I'm the animal!

Then I had to be checked over in readiness for my op - not easy with this stinking cold and other things, which made my blood pressure drop to something so low that the nurse commented on it (90 something over 80 something I think).

So we got home absolutely shattered. But something that we have both commented on is how nice it is to have these outings. I have decided that all my singleton friends should consider their future partners with the hospital test. If you know that he/she will come with you and sit quietly and hold your hand and not worry if you don't want to talk for hours on end, or will make you laugh when you need it then they are the one. If you can't see that happening. Forget it. Harsh but fair.

You probably don't know this, but when I'm writing these posts I generally have at least one cat in the room. Either just being a cat somewhere, or on my lap, or standing on the desk, or on the keyboard. They are being very cute and protective of me at the moment.

So I've added some random cuteness because everyone needs to look at kittens once in a while (except Col, who can keep his thoughts to himself!!). These are Blue and Berry before we adopted them. I'll post some current ones at another time!

Berry posing as ever

Meeting Blue

On top of everything Matt and I have very bad colds so are feeling v. sorry for ourselves and rather soggy. It never rains... But we had a lovely evening on Friday going to our local bonfire night and watching the fireworks, though somewhat ironically no bonfire.

Anyway we had news of all my tests on Thursday and the news is not bad - it looks like even though my cancer is stage 2 rather than 1b as first thought, I may still be in with the possibility of a thracheletomy rather than a radical hysterectomy (in other words fertility saving).

It's pretty amazing because this is very new surgery and very few women are eligible for it, but because I'm "young" for cervical cancer, and the cancer although invasive is contained, I'm one of the lucky ones. Also it's not available in many places in the world and often people fly to the UK for it so I guess location, location, location plays a bit part in it.

HOWEVER it's worth bearing in mind that although things are positive, they won't know for sure until they open me up, plus they are a little worried that one of my lymph nodes is swollen so these will be removed and tested. If it's cancerous it's out with the surgery and in with the chemo.

So we've moved a step forward, although it is a small one. Surgery now on 18 November rather than the 11th, as there is some sort of conference next week and they wanted all the surgeons to be around.

I am also having a bone scan on Tuesday - I have had some discomfort with my coccyx and so we agreed that it was a good idea to be a bit radioactive for a day just to double check. Of course it could be anything but a certain amount of paranoia kicks in.

I've finished work for a while - it was becoming too stressful for various reasons and Matt put his foot down when I was a wreck last week (as a mild mannered chap when he does put his foot down I tend to listen!). So I will probably need to have 2 or so months off as this surgery, even though not as radical as a hysterectomy, us that it effects your whole core so recovery is slow. Though I believe that the Royal Marsden physios are rather scary and they will have me moving asap. I'm glad of this - I don't want to be sitting around for two months and hope that I will be able to move around a bit. Apparently pottering is ok, but housework not!

I also wanted to add that I don't see myself as brave, I don't feel it really. You just have to get on with things the best you can. I'm grateful for all the love and support that I'm getting (though still not convinced about cabbage juice!) from friends and family, and from work. The other thing is, all the books that you read are about breast cancer and other types of cancer. On the whole most of the websites for cervical cancer are very dry and medical and you don't hear much about other women's experiences in terms of surgery (most women I know have had less radical treatment). So my hope is that eventually this will be useful to other women who might find themselves in my shoes. I had found a website called Hyster Sisters (only in America!) which is for women who have had hysterectomies and I found it very positive and informative - though I feel a bit of a fraud now!

As Ann said, with cancer there are a lot of silver linings. I guess that I am a secret Pollyanna - I'm not very good at feeling sorry for myself all the time (though with this cold it's easier) and she's right, there are lots of silver linings to be found. The fact is that this experience is in some ways life affirming - the good is very good and the bad is awful, but a lot comes into focus - I'm afraid I'm not very patient with people who are negative about the smallest things at the moment!

I've learnt three things this week.

1. My coping mechanism is grinding to a halt. I'm finding it really hard to put up with work cr@p and the epic battle known as commuting. I don't have the energy to keep acting as if everything is fine.

2. I have developed cancer "tourettes". When people ask me how I am I just can't say "fine thank you". Before I know it I've said "well actually I have cancer". It's involuntary and then I feel awful that I've said it.

3. People are evil. Tired of people posting utter bollox as comments to my thread I have changed it so that only registered users can comment now. I figure if people don't want to be open about who they are then tough. I'm baring my soul here.

I had my CT scan yesterday. Results in clinic with Mr Ind tomorrow.

Discovered that Butler and Wilson have a shop near the hospital so bought some earrings - and yes I spent money on something frivolous. But hey, sometimes a girl needs cheering up.

And in response to Nancy's comment I have set up an Amazon wishlist - mainly rather camp DVDs (well if I'm going to be flat out I may as well catch up on show tunes) and lots of silly books I loved as a girl.

I'm not going to apologise to anyone for writing this blog. For me it's a way of keeping people aware of what's happening to me without having to phone lots of people or sending emails. I go through lots of different emotions and feelings and to be honest even with this medium it's hard to explain just how I feel at any given moment.

I also am aware that it's very public and that people who are not really interested in how I'm doing are going to read it and make comments and that's fine. Personally I think that demonstrates their own inadequacies if they need to be nasty. I'm also rather aware that perhaps I'm more sensitive about certain things than normal, and I can't explain it except to say that the only people who really truely understand all of this are the people who have sat in a doctor's surgery and heard the words "you have cancer".

It's like being punched and the next moments are like watching television with the sound turned off, in slow motion. It's hard for Matt because he's dealing with the pain of me going through it all, and is also watching me go through it all and I know that he feels helpless. And he also has to deal with me feeling angry or grumpy or unwell or sad and me not being able to express why I'm feeling that way at that moment.

I'd like to recommend a book that I bought the other day - I think it should be required reading for anyone who might ever know someone with cancer. It's written by Deborah Hutton and is called "What can I do to help?" And explains basically practical things that people can do or say that really help. It also explains gently why somethings that are said don't help, even if the person saying them means well.

I'd also like to say to the people who are reading this who care about me - please feel free to add comments. And also remember that just knowing you are there and hearing from you is really helpful, as long as you understand that I might not respond to all your letters and emails. Just know that your love is really appreciated. It may be that we ask you to do other practical things after I've had surgery and am stuck at home recovering.

Z xx

I had acupuncture on Monday and am feeling rather "zen" at the moment. Joss let me have his appointment which was great as the acupunctureist is so popular that there is a waiting list to see him. He's a vietnamese doctor who used to be a surgeon at Kingston Hospital of all places.

He works like a doctor rather than, so apart from the many buddhas that he has around the practice, it's very pragmatic and not at all "alternative". I was glad for that as whale music and incense tend to make me a little anxious (can deal with incense on it's own but not in combination with the whale music and crystals and such).

He said, rather bluntly "You have hysterectomy. You have keeds, you die. You have hysterectomy and adopt, you leeve." Strangely I was comforted by this honest and down to earth approach.

Acupuncture is not about having needles poked into you painfully, but they sit on top of your skin so you don't notice them and if you do it's more of a case of a slight tingle. I had needles to relax, energise, strengthen me, to stimulate circualtion and sort out my kidneys. Oh and to clear the spots.

He checked my pulse and once he was satisfied with it let me doze for a while. Afterwards I felt a bit lightheaded and as if I'd had a good night's sleep. Am going back next week to be prepared for surgery.

Last night Matt and I talked about everything and at least I know that we both are prepared for the worst and ready (or at least as ready as we can be) to face things together.

On more domestic matters I spent some of our wedding gift vouchers from Graham & Green on a pouffe so that when I'm home I can sit on the sofa comfortably (sadly my feet don't touch the floor when I'm sat back on it).

I'd also like to ask people to please give money to the aid appeal for Pakistan - there are people dying there and governments are not paying their share - please help and save some lives. I'm adding the link to the Disasters Emergency Committee. SO next time you feel the urge to buy hair straighteners or other such items remember that there are people who have lost their homes.

I woke up today to discover that I am covered in red, itchy spots. Now is not a great time to discover that I am allergic to penicillin. Ho hum. Have antihistamine and things to keep the itching at bay.

It's been a stressful week what with various things at work and not knowing what was happening - compounded by the surgeon's PA having less than adequate bedside manners. All sorted out thanks to Nichola who is lovely and really helpful. She apologised for the confusion and I now know when and where I need to be - a scan on 1 November, clinic with the surgeon on 3 November and admission to hospital on 10 November. At clinic we'll find out the results of the tests and know what they will need to do - am not looking forward to that at all, but at least then we'll know what we're dealing with.

But there have been some highlights to this week, all my friends who have called and emailed and met me (you know who you are) and made me laugh and talked about normal things, and the pixies who posted chocolate through my door and other pixies who are sending me things from the US. A random bottle of raspberry vodka. It all helps a lot.

We had dinner with Lawtie and Cliff and Faith and went to Rules. We introduced the Americans to British game birds (wild duck and grouse) and hot sticky puddings. It was a lovely evening - lots of laughs and good conversation, an amusing waiter and some random fellow diners celebrating Trafalgar. I'd forgotten how much I like Rules - you get the tourists like the table of Japanese men eating oysters, and stuffy old English men, and young bloods in stripy shirts and clipped vowels, and botox blondes, and English eccentrics and the obligatory table of dandys. It's the oldest restaurant in London and really despite a few modern conveniences has not changed much in terms of atmosphere and clientele.

I've had my hair cut to a bob, figuring if it's ok for Sienna and Paris it's ok for me. Though admittedly mine's not a breakup cut, more a cancer cut. It's going to be much easier to handle in the hospital. Didn't get my highlights done as while it's unlikely I'll have chemo, I'm not paying £100 for it all to fall out (which would be just my luck) . But I'm pleased with the cut, even if I did have to tell the hairdresser that I was covered in spots and not infectious.

Not much more to add at this point in time - as Zoë’s already said, we're unlikely to have any significant news for a while...

So in the meantime, how about one of the better honeymoon snaps - that is to say one where I'm not blinking, squinting, sneering or generally making a really stupid face.

This picture was taken almost exactly a month ago today at Uluru (formerly known as Ayers Rock).

Halfway through the honeymoon, this was our little piece of luxury - and very special it was too.

I listened to a wonderful piece on Radio 4 this morning by Frank Gardner, the reporter who lost his legs. He did a report on people who had survived the 7/7 bombings and their experiences then and after, and dealing with the injuries that they have suffered.

In many ways I realise how lucky I am - my cancer has not come from trauma and I don't have flash backs or bad memories linked to it. It's something that's happened not by something I've done or even someone else. It's no one's fault. So who can I be angry with? It's just something that's happened.

The hard thing is though, that although I'm not losing a limb nor will have facial disfiguration, I am losing part of my body. Cancer and the things it does is not visible. When you sit on the tube you look the same as everyone else. In someways it's reassuring to be treated the same, but at other times, when someone is rude or you have to stand even though you're so tired. I look at people differently now. I wonder what is going on under their skin. What I'm going to lose is part of my identity as a woman. Oddly enough it's more part of my identity than changing my name.

I'm getting used to being called Mrs Ruddock now. And I like it. It's not losing my identity but reinforces it. Chris and Charlotte are Team Davis and Matt and I are now Team Ruddock, with a Sanderson-Ruddock backup team!

I said to someone recently that I'm grateful for being in this country. A comment had been made about how all our rescources are going towards helping people overseas when the NHS is suffering. I said, thank god I don't have to worry about paying for my treatment - let alone where the next meal is coming from.

It's a mantra that I keep repeating to myself - that despite everything I'm very lucky. I probably sound like a Pollyanna. But I need to try and stay postitive and count my blessings because it's so easy to feel angry and negative about everything. Many people have said how strong I am and perhaps I am, but it's not easy and I don't want to fail them.