Autumn in my garden

I love, simply love Autumn and Winter.

At no other time of the year do I feel more energised, more in tune with the natural world.

I listen to my work colleagues grumble about the rain or the cold, or the clouds and wind.  I listen and I pity them.

 I spend more time in my garden through the autumn and winter than I do in the summer.

 My magnolia doesn't seem to mind the winter.....

 The rain stays glistening on the plants all day....

My walnut tree plays games with me... I gather up the leaves and as I pass by it sneakily drops more behind me.  I know what is really going on.... it wants me to stay out there and keep it company - I love that tree.

The cyclamen start flowering...

 Rain wets everything and leaves adorn everything...better than any xmas decorations....

 My potted camellia blooms giant flowers that dwarf the plant.... how marvelous!

Naturally I love my garden all year round.  But at this time of year it seems to speak to me.  Its quiet grandeur, its complete disregard for my son's regular (albeit grudging) lawn-mowing, its timeless march through the decades; all make me feel like it has condescended to allow me to be its guardian.

And I am a willing disciple. I would pick those leaves up one by one and by hand if I could.  Sometimes I do then I place them underneath the balding canopy so as to preserve the cycle of life and let the leaves protect their mother with their mulch.

If you stand still long enough the protective cocoon of the life around you blocks out the traffic, the dogs and the sounds of civilisation itself.  The leaves crackle, the ground sighs as you step on its soggy dampness, the air whispers in your ear.

Love Love Love

Mesothelioma - a Guest Post by Cameron Von St. James.

Hi all 

I have been unable to post for a while due to some kinda fritz attack in the blog.  I have been trying to post a contribution from Cameron who contacted me after reading about some of the challenges my husband and I have faced with his kidney cancer.  But the clincher comes from knowing that Jeff's sister is a Mesothelioma survivor - and only recently so.  

Thus, for us too Cameron's blog has some wonderful insights into those moments of the cancer journey that affect the person with cancer, but just as importantly the person providing the support.  

Read the short piece below and then please visit his blog (link at the end of the story) and admire his commitment not just to Heather his wife but their joint commitment to the greater good.... and all at a time when it is so easy to just close ranks and wallow. 

 

 *******

A Time as a Caregiver Led to New Discoveries

I never thought I would be a caregiver until I sat with my wife Heather across the desk from our doctor as he gave us the news that my wife had malignant pleural mesothelioma.  It was November 21, 2005 when the doctor informed us about the disease and Heather’s diagnosis.  We knew we had to do something quickly to make sure Heather had every chance at recovery. Prior to getting this news, we were enjoying being new parents to our three-month-old daughter, Lily. All of the joy and excitement we had experienced as new parents was ripped away when we learned that Lily’s mother would soon be fighting for her life.

When a person must adapt the role as a caregiver for a loved one, it is a process to adjust to this new role.  I knew right away that I would be my wife’s caregiver because I wanted to be sure she got the best possible care.  One of the first things I did as Heather’s caregiver was to make travel arrangements to get her to Boston to see a seasoned mesothelioma specialist.  This person had a great reputation and it was important to us that Heather had access to the best care and the most experienced medical professionals.  I had to believe that if anyone could help my wife, it would be Dr. Sugarbaker in Boston.

Learning how to live life as a caregiver, while still taking care of family and financial obligations, is a huge chore.  I cannot imagine how we made it through those years of trial when Heather was sick; but I do know that we were so blessed by the support we received.  Family and friends stepped up and provided assistance in countless ways.  They made it possible for me to spend as much time as possible supporting Heather. If I had one piece of advice to give other caregivers in a similar role, it would be to accept every offer of help you receive. Even the smallest offer of help can be a weight off your shoulders, and at the very least will remind you that you are not alone in the fight.

Being a caregiver was the hardest job I’ve ever had, and if you ever find yourself in this role it will undoubtedly be just that for you as well. Allow yourself to have bad days, this is natural and inevitable. The important thing is to never, ever give up hope, even in those dark moments. Use every resource at your disposal, and always keep fighting for the one you love.

Now, over seven years since her heartbreaking mesothelioma diagnosis, Heather remains healthy and cancer free. After months of treatment, she was able to defy the odds and beat this terrible disease. Throughout the time of being the person who consistently took care of her while still shouldering other responsibilities, I discovered a lot about what I can handle when the going gets rough. Being a caregiver was the toughest challenge I’ve ever been faced with, but it was also the most rewarding. Now, I’m glad to be able to share my story, in the hopes that it may inspire others in a similar situation to never give up, and always hold onto hope. 

Cameron Von St. James

******

 Please visit Cameron at http://www.mesothelioma.com/blog/authors/cameron/

thank you for choosing me Cameron.  

M 

 

 

A-Z challenge must read.

 I am not doing the A-Z challenge.  But I am sure reading some fabulous stuff on Penwasser Place.

Just follow this link


Must read A-Z challenge


...and hang on to your funny bone!

Stop the world......

... I really really want to get off right now.


That is all.

Raindrops keep falling......

It has been overcast all day.  And now the sun is getting low in the sky.  Dusk is imminent and there is a glow, a luminescence to the world.  The greyness makes the green of the garden even greener.  But my heart is heavy and it has been for many months now.

I have been a stressed little gal all my life. Super charged. Hyper. Active. Hyper-Active.

I have watched, friends, family and colleagues crumble under the pressure of life.  I kept going.

I have had 9 of the top 10 life stressors dogging my steps for most of the past 30 years. I kept going.

I have achieved. I have worked. I have dreamed and I have compromised. And I have kept going.

Suddenly I didn't want to keep going.  Suddenly I was scared for my sanity.  I really was. Suddenly, and for the first time in my life I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to get up the next morning.  Suddenly I was sitting in front of the TV at night and feeling my grip slip.

I went to work each day. I worked, I talked, I laughed, I mentored and I sometimes growled.  But I always looked the same. Yet I didn't feel the same.  Sometimes a panic would grip me and I was terrified that I was going to collapse. I was terrified people would see me collapse. I was terrified. I would go outside and walk up and down the carpark till I had put some oxygen back into my blood and the trembling stopped.  Then I went back to being me - the me I have always been and never liked.  The martyr.

As I sit here now I know I have pushed all this into the background. I know I am in tenuous control. But I also know that one more disaster in my life right now will implode me.  I have withdrawn into myself and the funny thing is no one has noticed.  The more troubled I am, the happier my cardboard exterior becomes.

My treatment of my depression is to make myself create.  Craft, cooking, writing, chores- yes chores.  I set myself little goals each day - and I mean little.  I learned the hard way to stop setting impossible goals.  Impossible goals unfulfilled fuel the anguish inside.  Possible goals chip away at the despair.

So, I have started chipping. Today I resolved to take a nap, do a load of washing - only one - and find the half knitted scarf from last winter and put it next to my armchair.  I also resolved not to cook dinner and to stay in my pyjamas all day.

Mission accomplished. 

It also helped that I was able to chat to my bestie, Kim Kollert, for a few minutes today on Yahoo.  She is in Oregon, USA but when we chat it feels like she is in the room. I miss her.

So, new mission.  Blog myself out of this funk.

What I would really like is to hear your stories of a time when the weight of the world was so heavy you almost couldn't breathe.

What I would really like is to know that I am not alone in this.    That others have felt the vice grip on their chest, the suffocation of panic and the fear that it will never get better.

I am not going to medicate my way out of it. Not yet.  I am going to work my way out of it. Or at least try.  I have done it before many times, but it was never this bad, more of a despondency than a depression. A temporary setback rather than a flat out crash.

Well it's time to get out into the garage.  The other tactic to overcoming this state of affairs is fitness.  Since I have rheumatoid arthritis jogging is out of the question, but I am already developing some major biceps and quads lifting weights - OK, ok little ones. Jeff is lifting 150 kilos in a dead lift. I can lift 50kgs.  But I am doing it. It helps the new knee too so that is good.

Well the bench press awaits.  You know? Just writing all this has made me feel a little bit better.

Thanks for reading this far........ Bless.