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Breast Cancer Ribbon

Archive for the ‘Other’ Category

And we’re off!

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Just back from an afternoon at the Harley Street Clinic. I’m currently testing out as many of the clinics in and around Harley Street as possible. Might produce a sort of Harden’s-style guide to them some time!!??

So I have a PowerPort inserted under my skin now. It’s a little gizmo stuck just under my collar bone through which the medical profession will be able to insert all my medications and extract blood for tests etc. It will save a whole lot of prodding and stabbing while they try unsuccessfully to find a usable vein in my arms. Ironically, in order to sedate me for the procedure this afternoon they had to prod and stab me to try to insert a canula! Oh well, that’s done now. Onwards and upwards!

Tomorrow I thought I’d pop in to see my oncologist at 8.30 in the morning – look I know this is serious but I still don’t like early mornings!! Then I’m going to chew the fat with the no doubt wonderful chemo nurses before topping off my morning with an echocardiogram.

I think I’m allowed Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning off before popping back up to, you guessed it, Harley Street, for the first of my eight chemo sessions. I shall be accompanied on this occasion by sister Lou and mother. I think they heard there was a beauty salon there! Seriously though, I hope you’re allowed to laugh while having chemotherapy because it’s impossible to be in the presence of my sis for more than 30 seconds without having hysterics. I hope the chemo suite is prepared for her!!

The Big C!!

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So, here we go. The last two weeks (is that really all it’s been?) have been the proverbial “rollercoaster”. Sounds like a cliche, but it’s the only word that springs to mind to describe what I’ve been through since I sat in front of Mr Robert Carpenter on Friday afternoon, 25th November, and heard him say: “This is worrying”.

In just 15 minutes, he had decided, and therefore left me with little doubt, that the concerns I’d had myself about changes to my left breast, were almost certainly due to breast cancer. I’d booked myself in for a regular mammogram knowing there was something bothering me. I then asked to bring the scan forward and had it done at Bart’s on Wednesday 16th. Just six days later I had a recall letter and my stomach churned. This was no coincidence.

Not content to wait a moment longer than necessary, I called my cousin, a GP and a font of knowledge about the right specialist for the right job, and, thanks to my company’s private healthcare scheme, was off to see Mr Carpenter two days later.

But this all happens to other people. Not to me! You hear about and read about the blow, the shock that comes with a cancer diagnosis, and you just don’t take it in, because that’s for other people. And this despite the fact that I had Hodgkins’ Disease at the age of 17. So you could say I should have been prepared for this. But to tell the truth, I thought I’d had my meeting with cancer and overcome it. And everyone close to me must have thought the same. Because all they have said since I had all the tests in the few days after meeting Mr C and had the dreaded confirmation, was, “why do you have to go through all this again?”

I could ask the same, but that would not help anything. Right now, I have to think only positive thoughts, and “why me?” is not one of those. It’s me again, get over it.

I have been through untold terror in the past two weeks, none more so than when I went for scans of my lungs, liver and bones to see if the cancer had spread. Life has a strange way of shifting your perspective. When I was told the cancer hadn’t spread, I was so unbelievably relieved that I “only” had breast cancer, it was incredible. Eight days earlier I’d have been devastated that it was the big C. Now I was grateful and relieved that it was contained. And so was my husband Martin, my parents Barbara and Monty, my sister Louise and all of my relatives and friends who are now on this journey with me.

People have galvanised themselves into action so quickly. It’s amazing. My friend Gilly came with me to my first three tests on Monday 28th, sister Lou and her partner Bev were there for the bone scan etc and the offers keep flooding in. I’m so lucky to have such a great support team!!

So Martin took me away this weekend to Brighton to spoil me before the treatment starts.

Tomorrow I have to go in for a little procedure to insert a “port” under the skin, through which they’ll be able to do all the blood tests and administer the chemo.

Tuesday morning I’m back up to Harley Street to see my wonderful oncologist, Alison Jones, and then the nurses, plus am having an echo cardiogram. Then on Wednesday afternoon I’m having the first chemo session. If all goes to plan I’ll have one every two weeks for 16 weeks. Then there’s surgery to come (subject for another day) followed by radiotherapy.

Am I scared? You bet. Am I positive? You bet. I intend to get on with my life to the best of my ability and I WILL NOT let the chemo get me down. As to the final outcome – I ain’t going nowhere!! I’ve got loads more to do in this life and I will be around to do it. No question.

So let the battle commence. I don’t know why I’ve been chosen to fight this war, but fight it I will. And on the way I’m sure there will be much that is positive!

I will write this blog as part of my therapy, and to keep my friends and family updated, and if in the process I can help anyone else who’s going through what I am, then that would be great too.

Jo

SeafarerTurkey Flotilla – 3-17th September 2011

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We realised it would need something quite draconian
To drag us four friends from the South Ionian
Where the lure of Cephalonia called each year
And Ithaca and Meganissi’s charms were clear

But we’d started to be beset by wanderlust
And venture further afield we knew we must
So we canvassed all our friends, the weird and quirky
And decided eventually to head for Turkey

We were a trepidatious little clan
As first we set down in Dalaman
But our fears began to melt away
Once we set eyes on Orhaniye bay

No sooner were we off the bus
Than Silar came to greet us
It was clear he would be kept in check
When we met our skipper, dear Ipek

We could tell there would be fun and laughter
But that we would be well looked after
So we’d seen our new boats, met Ipek and Silar
But what of the others on the flotilla?

Would they be fun? Or as everyone dreads
Would they be weird folk with two heads?
Of course not! Mind we’d not yet met
Our dear friend Peter from Somerset!

“They call me Wurzel!” we wondered why?
Long-suffering Joy let out a sigh
“You’ll soon find out,” she seemed to say
“By the end of your two-week holiday”

But Peter, of course, turned out top-notch
And showed a penchant for Tommy’s scotch
This holiday then would see some drinking
Let’s hope it was only drinks that we were sinking!

Silar’s punch surely set the tone
After which, no one was alone
As on the nectar we all gorged
Tongues were loosened, friendships forged

It came as a tiny shock
That the briefings were held at nine o’clock!
At early mornings we drew the line
So perfected rising at five to nine

And eschewing our normal airs and graces
We showed the world our ‘just-woken’ faces
Some days the winds were very light
Some days the breeze got up at night

But we soldiered on, ‘neath the blazing sun
To bays with tavernas owned by Ogun
Or Maradonna, Sailor’s Paradise
So beautiful it’s worth visiting twice

In Datça, how we had to laugh
When visiting the Turkish bath
Left to sweat on a slab, then exfoliated
There was no point getting agitated

Lathered and soaped and massaged with oil
We left feeling pampered, just like a royal
No bay we found was too remote
For the little man in the ice-cream boat

Or the lady with trinkets and Turkish delight
The firewood woman was quite a sight
No point expecting a dish of the day
We soon settled in to mixed meze

Then chicken or lamb, octopus or squid
All fresh and tasty and just a few quid
On this holiday, Martin finally got his wish
After years of trying, he caught two fish

And no sooner were they on the reel
Than he’d turned them into a tasty meal
Martin-no-fish, his nickname now gone forever
Martin-two-fish feels proud, and very clever

In Tim and Linda we spotted a trait
Of turning up everywhere just a tad late
And My Song, I don’t mean to be rude
But how did you store all of James’s food?

Getting in dinghies was sent to try us
Just ask them on Agios Nikolaos
The margin for error is fairly slim
And the beach party saw an unscheduled swim!

The swimming award goes to Geolina
Carolyn the mermaid, you should have seen her
In the water at first light
And still taking dips late into the night

I’d best not talk about my friend Sue
Because I see her the whole year through
But I hope she’ll take on the chin
The photo of her with her curlers in!

Now sadly, our lovely flotilla ends
Leaving memories, and perhaps some new friends
And I’m sure I speak for all gathered here
That we’d like to give a little cheer

Thank you Ipek and Silar, if fair winds prevail
We may join you next year for another sail
You made this all go so very well
And really helped Turkey cast its spell!

©Joanne Wallen Ross

For Ben Kinsella and all the knife crime victims

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I always carried a knife to school
It’s the thing to do, it makes you look cool
My friends did too, it helped the façade
Of looking like we were all well hard
It made you feel like you were strong
Like no one could do you any wrong
Like if someone stared or called you names
Well, we’ve seen it on the video games
You pull out your knife or even your gun
And threaten aggro, it’s a bit of fun
You only carry it for self-defence
Everyone does it, it’s common sense
Look like you’re one of the gang
Help the party go off with a bang
Nothing bad will happen, well not to us
Why do adults make such a fuss?
But it did happen, just down the road from here
And suddenly the reality’s all too clear
These boys just went out to celebrate
Exams were over, they’re feeling great
And next thing, one’s running for his life
And somebody’s pulled out a knife
His friend’s run off, he’s terrified
But he runs back to this Ben’s side
Coz they’ve knifed him down, but it’s too late
Eleven stab wounds have sealed his fate

He tries all he can to stem his friends blood
But from all those wounds there’s such a flood
It’s one thing seeing it on TV
But imagine how scared you would be
Watching your mate, your real good friend
As his young life comes to an end
It could have been me, if could have been you
Tomorrow it could be your mate too
Or your mum too devastated to speak
Your family’s life now totally bleak
It has to stop, it’s too terrifying
That all these cool young kids are dying
So from now, I’m carrying knives no more
I’ve seen what it does, I know the score
Jail isn’t cool, it’s not big and clever
Dying’s not either, and it’s for ever
Just one rash, stupid moment of fury
And your life belongs to a judge and jury
For Ben’s sake but most of all for all ours
We kids have to use all our powers
To stop all this killing, get rid of the knives
And do something really good with our lives.

©Joanne Wallen Ross
July 2008

The Nile in style

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We’d always wanted to see the mysterious Nile
But decided we’d like one day to do it in style
We eschewed the thought of those big, ugly cruising boats
Which are little more than a hotel that floats
And found, through a company called Bales
A small, charming wooden boat with two white sails
Six cabins were all this dahabiyya could boast
Room for just twelve people at the most
Idyllic, ‘least as far as we could tell
Provided all twelve passengers would gel
Suspiciously, we eyed people on the plane
We hoped our fellow travellers would be sane
One chap across the aisle caught my attention
Particularly when I thought I heard him mention
Dahabiyya, he wore a linen suit
And suddenly the awful thought took root
As I listened to this man boast and gloat
Please Ra! Don’t let him be on my boat
At Cairo airport, my fears soon subsided
When the Bales group into two were divided
I had a feeling now this holiday had begun
That the crew of the Musk were in for some fun
First though, we were Cairo bound
An experience that truly did astound
As we drove that night along Cairo’s manic roads
All life was there, trucks with impossible loads
Perched on which a worker grabbing sleep
Cars switching lane to lane with just a beep

The ubiquitous sound of a vehicle’s horn
Our precious health and safety they would scorn
Donkeys and camels, riding contra-flow
The speeding hordes barely thought to slow
As pedestrians leapt across the carriageway
And miraculously lived to see another day
After such a white-knuckle ride
There was great relief to be finally inside
The gates of the Mena House Oberoi
Whose beauty and serenity was pure joy
Though in the dark from us her secret she hid
Her views of a wondrous pyramid
The reason after all that we were here
To hope secrets of ancient Egypt would come clear
Next morning, the great pyramids we spied
As we made our way to meet and greet our guide
Little could we possibly realise
When on Saladin we first all set eyes
That this man over the coming ten days
Would change us in so very many ways
“You have free time in Cairo,” the brochure said
But Saladin had other plans instead
With passion, he proposed an itinerary
There was so much he wanted us to see
Though lured by the thought of a rest
We suspected then that Saladin knew best
And duly let him lead us by the hand
To reveal to us the jewels of his ancient land
How far we’ve come since that first day in Saqqara
Our minds as barren as the great Sahara
As the pyramids and tombs we would explore
We found ourselves wanting to know more

Confused by gods and kings, myth and tradition
Saladin was patient in his mission
To open our eyes and slowly educate us
For our ignorance he never would berate us
Yes we saw pyramids, tombs and temples in their glory
But without our dear guide to tell us their story
They’d appear as just so many piles of stone
Another solar boat, another throne
Our trip though was not all education
There was time as well for fun and relaxation
And how we laughed, we were lucky as can be
To find our group had characters like Toby
Poor Vicky, how he liked to tease her
His Egyptian hosts he’d greet with “Alright geezer?”
His wicked sense of humour made us choke
Then Paul would enter the fray with some old joke
Long-suffering Jan had heard them all before
But that never stopped Paul coming back with more
Hassled by a city’s busy throb
We always could rely on big Bob
To befriend all the kids on the street
He’d laugh and joke with every child he’d meet
Kind humoured, even though he’d know
They were only there to ask for “one euro”
Still at least it gave him something else to do
Than trading a couple of camels in for Sue
For photo-shooting we must award the job
To our dear new friends Helen and little Bob
Usually last to rejoin our little crowd
Those two would make David Bailey proud
To arrive at historic sites before the crowd
Late morning lie-ins were not allowed
Poor Sue Foster, who’s partial to her bed
Had to rise at crack of dawn, instead

She was not exactly filled with elation
Woe betide anyone who tried a conversation
To engage her husband Tommy as a rule
You only had to talk about football
But mention Everton, and he’d surely swoon
And spit curses on you from the god Amun
Now in every group, as we all must have feared
There will usually be one who’s rather weird
Who thinks he can guide the skipper through the locks
And who wanders round the temples in pink Crocs
Who joins in Egyptian dancing and has a go
But ends up rocking the world like Status Quo
Who goes for a stroll on an island in the Nile
Then decides to end his 59th year in style
By joining a game of football on the sand
And hoping his poor wife Jo would understand
Martin wanted one last game, don’t you know?
Before the poor thing turned the big Six-O
Now it’s time for these new friends all to part
And we do so with a very heavy heart
With memories of sailing dawn to dusk
Upon our sumptuous cruising boat the Musk
As we leave we may well shed a few tears
With names like Isis and Horus ringing in our ears
But we’re richer now than we have ever been
Thanks to the patient teachings of Saladin
So let’s raise a glass and thank the gods of Esna
That we ended up on Musk and not on Nesma!!

©Joanne Wallen Ross
6-17th October 2010

WE HAD A ‘STAYCATION’

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For Eve

This year we had a staycation
We holidayed at home
Well they say there’s a recession
And it costs too much to roam

It’s all the rage you know
The very latest trend
If you’re running out of money
And the banks don’t want to lend

We went down to the beach a bit
And paddled in the sea
But ice-creams are expensive
And my mum has to buy three

Our friends did have a barbecue
So we all went along
It wasn’t perhaps quite Bondi Beach
But was fun, don’t get me wrong

No we didn’t go abroad this year
In fact we’ve never been
Mum and dad just can’t afford it
It’s not that they are mean

They’ve had one or two problems
They were nearly going to split
I’m glad they’re back together
But it spoiled the hols a bit

Still the summer wasn’t all that bad
I’m grateful for what I’ve got
I even spent one night away
From home on granddad’s yacht

And my brother he came too
Although he can be a pain

But we really had some fun
And at least it didn’t rain

So we didn’t reach Australia
Nor shoot for some far-flung planet
But we really had quite a lot of fun
At home on the Isle of Thanet!!

©Joanne Ross
August 2009

The Magic of La Renardiere

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There can be no doubt that the Cote D’Azure
Has always held a certain allure
Nice, on a cloudless, sun-drenched day
A stroll down the Promenade des Anglais
The millionaires’ yachts on the azure sea
There is no finer place to be
Except perhaps, along the coast
At Cannes, where topless bathers roast
And pavement café life overflows
With those who simply love to pose
Especially in May, when movie stars
Fill the town’s hotels and bars
And locals are captured in the thrall
Of the annual film festival
Climb north, and in a little while
You’ll find a town of grace and style
That offers just a bit more room
And the heady scent of fine perfume
You’ve come across the town of Grasse
Well worth a stop before you pass
The perfumiers will tell you for sure
Their eau de toilette beats that of Dior
The local lavender serves as well
As any bottled by Chanel
With bottles full and wallets light
From Grasse, you’ll finally take flight

Oh the Riviera has its charm
And a visit does more good than harm
But if you crave a real retreat
A haven from the City’s beat
An altogether different pace
With solitude and loads of space
There is a spot that you could choose
A tranquil place with wondrous views
Where birdsong, is all you’ll hear
And air is fresh and light is clear
Once you enter its protected gates
A charming villa for you waits
Amidst the plant and tree-lined grounds
Peace and tranquillity abounds
The house is full of cosy nooks
For sipping wine or reading books
The terraces are a sheer delight
Sun-drenched by day and warm at night
What better way to keep your cool
Than splashing in the swimming pool?
And when the time for dinner’s due
Fire up the barbecue
And feast on food that’s fresh and fine
Washed down with some local wine
Then savour, in the warm night air
The magic of La Reynardiere.

© Joanne Ross – May 2007

200th Anniversary of Trafalgar Night

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It was 200 years ago
But oh, it irked my Boney so
You see, he had a cunning plan
To take out that annoying little English man

And his navy, we were to conquer the shores
Of that island that you now call yours
My Boney had a fascination
With European domination

I tried with all my womanly wiles
To beg him, ‘Forget the British Isles’
I said: ‘You’ll only come to grief’
And, ‘What would you want with their ros-beef?’

The point was completely lost on me
Of why he’d want to put to sea
And risk the loss of many ships
For a land that lived on fish and chips

I called my friend Emma on the ‘phone
And the two of us had a little moan
‘I know Jo’, she said, ‘I’ve been thinking the same
I’ve begged him to stop this silly game

Horatio, I said, it will be no disgrace
To just stay at home at Merton Place
With your daughter and me, why take to heart
The threats of Napoleon Bonaparte?’

‘Oh Emma’, I said, ‘I agree with you
But I fear there is nothing we can do
Our intervention is too late
The spoils of war are just too great

They fight not for command of the British Nation
But for control of the Cruising Association
Emma,’ I said, ‘I think all is lost
Boney wants that place at any cost’

‘Oh Jo’, she said, ‘this is too cruel
In our crown, the CA is the jewel
Nelson would sooner rot in a trench
Than hand the CA to the French’

We feared for who would come off worst
That fateful October 21st
When 200 years of history took shape
At sea off that Trafalgar Cape

Boney wasn’t at sea, I must come clean
That night was the night for his Josephine!
But Nelson was on his ship Victory
Proudly flying the old CA burgee

While my Frenchman was getting specially fruity
Nelson asked all his men to do their duty
My boudoir, was all that Boney saw
As Villeneuve set sail on the Bucentaure

That Admiral was so puffed up with pride
He barely felt Nelson’s first broadside
But Nelson must have been very thrilled
Two hundred Frenchmen were wounded or killed

While Boney attended to ‘other’ matters
Our French flagship was all in tatters
Victory was heading Nelson’s way
On that late October day

Perhaps his retreat was a little tardy
As he strolled the decks with his trusty Hardy
One shot from our ship Redoubtable
For Horatio, would end it all

As he thought of Emma, and all he would miss
He asked Hardy to give him a little kiss
Which you British, with your schoolboy humour
Turned into a nasty rumour

But Nelson’s death was not in vain
He saved we French from your awful rain
Black pudding, warm beer, pigeon poo in our hair
From strolling in Trafalgar Square

But he stopped us too from what we wanted the most
To sail our ships round your lovely coast
Not humbled and by defeat disgraced
But with a blue ensign that was de-faced

Though he’d built himself a great empire
There was one role to which Boney did aspire
President, not of the USA
Non, President of the British CA

As Nelson’s body was carried on the Thames
Past one of Limehouse’s greatest gems
He knew that in 200 years
All of you would raise a glass in cheers

And thank him for taking such a bruising
To save you from being L’Association de Cruising!

By Joanna Ross