Tales of Lourdes...continued

I've been a bit remiss of late.  I haven't got round to writing any more blogs but after a bit of gentle encouragement from some friends and relatives I've got the bit between my teeth again.  It's also a welcome distraction from writing Christmas cards.

I've also recently changed my phone and I've lost all my notes that I made on it.  So I'm having to go from memory and my tweets from the time.

To Basque or not to Basque

Nuala and I went on a coach trip to Basque country on the Sunday. Well, it was mainly a trip to get cheap booze and cigarettes for those who were so inclined (not me, you understand). 

The journey took a couple of hours and took us past various towns one being Bayonne, where the bayonet comes from allegedly, corn fields and villages up to a place called Ibardin on the mountainside, literally just on the border between Spain and France.  It was really quite bizarre as there wasn't anything else around apart from trees and sky as far as the eye could see. It was simply a small steep street consisting solely of bespoke duty free shops and cafés nestled on the side of a mountain. 

View from the duty free shops (the view the other way was not so good)

As soon as we got off the coach, Nuala and I got our priorities right and sat on some steps in the warm sun to eat our packed lunch.  This consisted of a beautifully fresh crusty baguette with juicy ham.  Ooh, this was the life.

what a lovely baguette

Nuala and I pottered around and I bought my husband a wooden catapult (as you do) and a lovely leather belt.  I also learned the Basque phrase for thank you, but gave up trying to pronounce it after the 10th time of making a complete tit of myself.

Trusty catapult

After about an hour and a half, we set off again, this time for a place on the south western french coast called Saint-Jean-de-Luz.

St-Jean-de-Luz's gorgeous beach

Saint-Jean-de-Luz

This is a lovely wee fishing town.  For those of you who are interested in history, it was where King Louis XIV married Marie-Therese of Spain in 1660.  

Nuala and I sat in the square and drank coffee as we people watched.  It was pretty sublime.  That café was also the place where our waiter taught me the french word for a shandy - 'un panaché'.  Up until that point, I had been asking for 'half a lemonade and half a beer in the same glass' in stilted french.  When I did it in the café in Saint-Jean-de Luz the waiter looked at me as though I was speaking Japanese.  Oh, how that singular word made life so much simpler from that point on.

After our fill of coffee and panachés, I found a divine ice cream shop. As soon as I tried out my rusty french, the assistant automatically lapsed into english and served me the most delicious selection of as many ice cream flavours that he could fit on a single cone. 

that'll do nicely

The Poor Clare Sisters

Opposite our hotel was the Monastery of the Poor Clare Sisters, an enclosed religious order.  One of our group had told me that the nuns always sang in the evening and it was a beautiful thing to behold.  

I wandered across after dinner and sat in the chapel, with three other people.  I could just about see a couple of the nuns' faces behind the bars.  

The singing was absolutely beautiful.  They had such pure, haunting voices and along with the accompanying harpsichord (I think that's what it was) the sound filled the chapel.  It was mesmerising.

Could it get any more french?

That evening after dinner, we went to our local café and sat outside in the warm night air drinking panachés and coffee.  We watched nuns, priests, pilgrims, monks, workers and tourists bustling past.  The air was filled with laughter, chatter, smells of lavender and tons and tons of pretty moths.  The colourful lights from the variety of shops and cafés gave the whole atmosphere a lovely suffused glow.

moths and more moths on the side of the café wall

We talked about religion and a whole range of other topics. Alain, the café owner, looked after us wonderfully.  Then a woman with an accordion arrived and started to play for us.  This prompted Nuala to get up and dance in the street with Jim, another member of our group.  I felt at that moment that it was all so perfectly french and all so perfectly 'perfect'.  The whole experience was warming my heart and banishing the trauma of my cancer experience to the back of my mind. 

I was starting to feel such immense joy at being in a place so warm, friendly and uplifting with such fun loving people.  My preconceived ideas were slowly melting away and I started to get a sense of inner peace.

What a place.  And yet more fun and surprises were to come.  

Next time

Being anointed, lighting candles and 'saucy' jokes.

Tales of Lourdes

Day one

Nothing much eventful happened on the first day as we were all tired from having been up from the early hours.

Nuala and I did manage to drag ourselves away to the café a few doors away from our hotel and had a couple of beautiful cappuccinos and then had a look around the local shops.  Hmm, I'm liking this so far I thought.  

Later on, I had a nap just in time to meet Nuala again for another cappucino.  I could get used to this.  Not much religious stuff so far and lots of coffee drinking.  Magic!

One of the nicest coffees EVER

Lourdes town

If you've never been to the town of Lourdes, its location is stunning.  It lies at the foothills of the Pyrenees and has a mountainous backdrop and is intersected by the fast-flowing Gave river.   Outside of the Sanctuary of Our Lady Of Lourdes, the place is full to bursting with hotels, holy shops, chapels, wall to wall rosaries (ranging from neon plastic ones to ones made from stunning Swarovski crystals), jewellery, candles, soaps, lace, crystal ornaments, fresh lavender, holy water receptacles (some in the shape of the Virgin Mary, others as large as petrol cans and others as delicate as pretty glass bottles) and friendly cafés.  The shops are a veritable treasure trove but on first glimpse they can appear to be rather tacky, yet strangely comforting at the same time.  

The whole place is religion on steroids.

Some of the shops

River Gave in Lourdes

Day two

Mass

Our first proper day in Lourdes and the weather was glorious.  I decided that I would join the other members of our group at Mass in one of the chapels in the Sanctuary.

So off I trundled to Sanctuary.  The place was full of pilgrims and despite the numbers of people milling around, the whole place was completely serene, peaceful and full of warmth and respect.

I must admit to feeling a little apprehensive about going to Mass especially in a place as important as Lourdes.  Then when a couple of people in our group said that I would be able to go up to the priest and get a blessing from him, I was a bit shocked.  'What, me?  But I'm not Catholic,' I said.  Everyone assured me it would be absolutely fine and that all I needed to do was to cross my arms across my chest as I approached the priest.  That would indicate to him that I just wanted a blessing.

As Mass progressed and we got to the point of communion, I was getting quite anxious. What if I messed up, or forgot to cross my arms, or the priest said 'What on earth are you doing here, you heathen', or I shook his hand and said something stupid like 'Hi, I'm Karen, nice to meet you'.  

When I got to the front of the communion line, I crossed my arms across my chest.  The priest looked at me with warmth and love and placed a hand on my head and gave me a blessing.  At that moment, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually felt like I was being touched by the hand of God and that I was looking into His eyes.  Yes, me.  A cynical, non-religious person.  It felt like my heart was going to burst and I started to well up.  I thanked him and then walked back to my seat with tears in my eyes.  I couldn't believe how uplifting the whole experience was.  It really stunned me.

Coach trip to Gavarnie

In the afternoon, Nuala and I had decided to go on a coach trip to a village called Gavarnie up in the Pyrenees.  Much hilarity had ensued amongst our group over lunch about this expedition as one of the stopping places on the way was 'Napoleon's Bridge'.  

Rumour has it Napoleon built this bridge to visit his mistress and apparently any woman who crosses it ends up pregnant.  Now, in my earlier blog I mentioned a woman who had wanted to sit next to me and talk to me when I was half asleep on the coach to the airport.  I later found out that she was a sprightly 80-something year old nun with an absolutely wicked sense of humour.  The nun was the chief instigator of this hilarity and in her dead-pan way started to wind me and Nuala up about coming back pregnant.  Now that WOULD be a miracle at our ages.  She insisted however that she would want to check me over when I got back.

Sure enough, the coach did stop at Napoleon's Bridge.  Should I cross it or not?  Yeah, go for it, I said to myself.  No chance of a pregnancy.  Although, I must admit to walking across it rather tentatively just in case the legend wasn't a load of old tosh after all.

Napoleon's Bridge (naughty boy)

Napoleon's Bridge

About half an hour later we arrived in the pretty village of Gavarnie.  I wanted to go and see the tallest waterfall in Europe there but Nuala and I got side-tracked by alcohol and blueberry pie in one of the cafés so I never made it.  Oops.

Gavarnie

Blueberry pie - delicious

After a gorgeous afternoon in the sunshine eating, drinking and doing a bit of shopping we headed back to Lourdes.  Being a coach trip full of Irish people, there was a lot of lovely Irish songs being sung, with Nuala, being the entertainer that she is, singing all of them at the top of her voice.  It was joyous.

When Nuala and I went down for dinner later that evening, like the pair of big kids that we were, I stuffed a teddy bear that Nuala had bought in Gavarnie up my T-shirt to make out I had come back pregnant.  The look on the nun's face when she saw me stagger in with a massive belly supporting my back was priceless.  (OK, so it was funny at the time.)

Next time...

A trip to Basque country.

Feel free to leave a comment below.

Tales from Lourdes

Prologue

This blog is about my recent personal experience of going on a pilgrimage to Lourdes.

Let me say straight off that I'm not religious.  The extent of my religious experiences as far as I can remember was going to Sunday School.  I also prayed every night by the side of my bed as a small child.  It was usually about wanting God to protect my mum and dad and the hope that I would marry Donny Osmond one day (look him up, kids). 

I hated going to Sunday School to be honest but my mum made me.  I'm not really sure why she did but I guess she wanted me to be brought up having a good Christian faith. 

Oh and I will be changing some names in this blog to protect the innocent/guilty (you know who you are).

Why did I go to Lourdes?

I'd seen a Facebook posting about a pilgrimage to Lourdes where there were places still available.  It intrigued me.  I had visited Lourdes for a half day back in 2001 when I was on holiday in France and for some reason, which I still can't explain, it had had a considerable effect on me.

I had also been thinking about doing voluntary work after my cancer treatment had ended.  So I thought that it would be a great opportunity to go on the pilgrimage as a helper.  I quickly realised however that it probably wasn't a good idea to manage the demands of being a helper with my medical history (plus I went on to get a fractured vertebra several weeks before the trip so lifting and running around would have been out of the question anyway).

I therefore decided to go as a pilgrim.  I knew some of the people who were going so I reckoned there was nothing to lose.  It might also help me get some spiritual and physical healing following the trauma of cancer and treatment.  Who knows, I thought, perhaps the holy water might help to protect me from getting cancer again. I was willing to give anything a try.  I told myself I would go with a open mind and that I would opt out of all the religious activities.  

I put my name down and so on Thursday night of 13 September I stayed with my cousin Nuala for a 03.00 am departure to Dublin Airport.  Three o'clock in the morning!  I told myself it had better be worth it.

The journey to Dublin

We left the departure point at 03.30am, half an hour later than expected as there had been some confusion over the departure time.  Heck, I could have had another 30 minutes in bed.  So that made me a bit grumpy.  On the way, we picked up an elderly woman who was incredibly perky.  It was 04.00 and even though there were spare seats on the bus, the woman asked if she could sit next to me. I was a little put out by this as I was shattered and didn't want to strike up a conversation.  I closed my eyes and lay my head against the window.  Ten minutes later, the woman poked me in the arm and said 'What's your name then?'.  Aargh. 

That woman turned out to be a revelation to me and I grew to love and respect her enormously.

About 04.30 in the morning, one of our group led everyone in prayer.  I couldn't believe it.  None of us had had much sleep, and everyone was praying.  I couldn't even join in as I wasn't of the same faith and I didn't know the words.  Had this been a big mistake on my part?  No, I thought, give it time and keep that open mind.

We arrived at the airport at 05.30.  After checking in we headed for the café and Nuala headed for a cigarette.  I got stuck into a big Irish breakfast and finished off what was left of Nuala's toast.  Waste not, want not.

We boarded the flight at 08.00 and an hour and a half later we landed at Lourdes airport.

Next time...

The adventure begins.

Please feel free to leave a comment below or follow me on Twitter @luvvacurry.

A mixed bag 

The 2 May 2018 - the anniversary of my breast cancer surgery and my first year of being cancer free. I happened to be at a work conference in England and wanted to celebrate. A couple of my senior colleagues chipped in with me to get some prosecco. 

As my colleagues toasted my health, I said a few words of thanks to everyone but my emotions got the better of me and I stood like a lemon choking on my words and my eyes filling up with tears. It was a really nice evening though and it was great to celebrate with so many lovely, supportive people.

After many, many months of being in a dark place I could at last feel my mojo coming back.

Couch to 5K

After my first anniversary I decided I needed to get fit and build up my strength. So I started doing the couch to 5K programme. I was also inspired by my step-daughter who ran her first ever marathon (in fact she did two in two weeks). On my first outing, I could barely run a single minute without wanting to give up but I stuck at it and gradually over eight weeks I built up to 28 minutes non-stop. I was getting fitter and stronger - both mentally and physically. I was beginning to feel really great.

5k to couch

One day during one of the longer couch to 5K runs I felt something 'go' across my back. I reckoned it was muscle strain and thought nothing of it and then went on holiday to Portugal.

My back and ribs were still sore when I got back from my holiday so I went to see my doctor who decided to refer me for an x-ray. To cut a long story short, it turned out that I had a compressed vertebra and a small area of 'consolidation' (yeah, I didn't know what that meant either but it sounded dodgy) in my right lung. My doctor thought the fractured vertebra was down to the radiotherapy beam travelling through my body which had then been exacerbated by my running. But he seemed to be more concerned about my lung. He said he would write to my oncologist and that I was to go back for another x-ray in a few weeks to see if the consolidation had gone. In the meantime, he said, if I lost control of my bowels or couldn't pee I was to get emergency help as it would be really serious.

I left the doctor's surgery in tears, thinking, 'Shit, not again.' 

When I got home from the doctor, I thought, 'Feck that, I'm not waiting weeks for another x-ray' so I decided  to contact my breast care nurse for advice. She was wonderful and luckily she managed to get me an appointment the next day to see my clinical trial oncologist.

The oncology appointment

I was bricking it when I went to see my oncologist. He looked at my x-rays and said he was less worried about the consolidation as he thought that was due to radiotherapy damage but the vertebra concerned him. He said he didn't 'think' it was cancer but thinning of my bones (chemo can damage bones and I was already on calcium supplements plus hormone-busting tablets which can cause osteoporosis). I would need an MRI scan and a CT scan just to be sure.

I walked out of the hospital feeling marginally happier. That night I went to see Iron Maiden in concert, which was a great way to end the day. And no head banging either. Someone suggested my head might fall off if I did.

MRI scan day

I wasn't really looking forward to the MRI scan. They are claustrophobic and make a lot of disconcerting very loud noises. I was given an eye mask, earplugs, a panic button, noise cancelling headphones (yeah, right) and got strapped in. I lay there listening to the bizarre, unnerving sounds which to me sounded like a cross between a 100 game show buzzers being sat on at the same time, constant blasts of point blank automatic gunfire, a pneumatic drill and a very bad Kraftwerk album.

Before I went in, I had a large latte to calm my nerves - not a good idea as even though I'd been to the loo three times before I went in for the scan I still ended up lying there with a full bladder. Top tip - avoid drinking too much before an MRI scan!

So I now just have to get a CT scan before I can get my oncologist's verdict. No more running for me for a while, no pilates either. I can do gentle swimming with a float and static cycling as long as I don't twist my pelvis.  The thing is, I'd run my first ever 5K around Stormont between having the x-ray and getting the results and I'd done it without knowing I'd had a fractured veterbra. Idiot.

Why can't cancer and its after effects just feck off and leave me alone! It's a roller-coaster. 

Work, a scare and complementary therapy

Hello dear friends.  It's been a while since I've bored you with my breast cancer journey.  I've got loads of energy today so I thought I'd share a few updates with you.

Back to work

I went back to work in February.  I was really quite apprehensive about it. I'd been off work for nine months by then and the thought of going back filled me with dread.  Part of me wanted to use my brain again and get back to 'normal', but the other part of me just didn't want to be normal again. I felt like my identity and feelings had changed since having been diagnosed with cancer and I didn't want work to compromise who I felt I now was.  I'm not sure that I can even adequately describe what I mean by that.

I felt mentally ready but was still tired and also worried that I could be returning too soon.  I didn't want to do anything that I thought could set me back or possibly cause the cancer to return.  Anyway, I decided I had to bite the bullet.

To make it a little easier, I had previously dialled into a team meeting a couple of weeks earlier where I could break the ice a little.  I explained that I was looking forward to coming back but that I probably wouldn't be as energetic as before (I heard a massive sigh of relief from those on the call at that, cheeky beggars) and rather forgetful at first.  I also said that I didn't want anyone to say to me that I could put it all behind me and forget about having cancer.  Once you've had cancer you can never really put it behind you or forget about it, I explained.

On my first day back in the office, I went in with a colleague who metaphorically held my hand.  It was like the first day at a new school, and I was worried that everyone would stare at me like some sort of specimen in a jar.  I got hugs and kisses (I still do when I bump into someone from work who I haven't seen since last April) and lots of welcoming emails.  It was simply lovely and I needn't have worried.

I only worked a few hours a day for the first few weeks.  I've now built my hours back up to full-time. But I find that I do get tired towards the end of the week so I need to see what I can do about that.  I've also been given the all clear by my oncologist to fly again so I can at least start going to meetings in England again.  I do need to pace myself though and not overdo things.  The effects of chemo and radiotherapy are still working away on my body.

Bit of a scare

A few weeks ago I started to notice that my dodgy boob didn't look right. The skin on the lower part looked a bit like orange peel and the boob felt a bit lumpy.  I rang the breast care nurse and got an appointment to be seen at the breast clinic fairly quickly.  

The nurse examined me, which was immediately followed up with a mammogram and then a fine needle biopsy.  Oh shit, I thought.  Please God, don't tell me the cancer has come back again.  I asked if my boob could be numbed for the biopsy.  'No point,' said the nurse.  'The needle for the anaesthetic is actually bigger and would be even more uncomfortable.'  Oh bugger.

After the tests, I waited in the mammogram area.  Jeremy Kyle was on the TV so that was a bit of a bummer.  One poor woman who was sitting next to me was in a terrible state waiting to find out if she had cancer or not.  She was asking me loads of questions and could just about hold herself together.  I just didn't know what to say without possibly saying something completely ham-fisted and frightening her half to death.  I tried to reassure her by saying that if she was diagnosed then she would find an inner strength she didn't know she had and would be able to handle it.  I still think about that woman and wonder what news she was given. 

After a while, I was called back in to see the nurse and the good news was that everything was OK.  Phew!  It seems that the look and feel of my boob was down to radiotherapy and scar tissue.  I'm glad I got it checked out though.

Health check and complementary therapies

I went and got a free health check done, courtesy of Action Cancer a charity here in Northern Ireland.  They weighed me using a sophisticated piece of kit and took my blood pressure too.  I couldn't get a diabetes or cholesterol check due to being on anti-coagulant drugs.  The findings were startling.  Let's just say I need to lose a bit of weight.  Oh dear, bang goes the chocolate I got for Easter. 

Action Cancer have also booked me onto a course of complementary therapies, such as Bach flower remedies and reflexology .  They also recommended some apps to help me calm my mind too.  It's such a brilliant service.

That's all for now, folks

I hope you've found this latest blog of use.  My next one will be to mark the anniversary of when I was first diagnosed and I'll be reflecting on this past year of my life.

Best wishes and much love.  Please feel free to leave me a comment below.

New year, new me

I know, I know.  A bit of a clichéd headline there.  But I really do feel like I've turned a corner since Christmas.  I'm not sure how that has happened but maybe it's been down to talking to people who understand how I feel.  

Occupational health chat

I've had a medical assessment with an Occupational Health adviser arranged via my employer.  I was quite apprehensive about it but actually I really needn't have worried at all.  

The assessment was carried out by a nurse who really understood what I had gone through and knew about the sorts of things that would help me cope post-treatment, both personally and at work.   She reassured me that the way I had been feeling leading up to Christmas and the fear of the cancer returning was perfectly normal.   We talked about the support I felt I needed to help me get back to work.  It was incredibly helpful to talk to her and to find out about all the practical things that she could recommend.

Counselling

I've also been in touch with Action Cancer and went to see a counsellor. I wasn't entirely convinced that I would find it helpful but I felt I needed to reach out to someone who was trained and who would understand the terrible things that cancer can do to both your body and mind.

I was lucky that there was a free slot to see someone almost straight away.  The counsellor was warm, friendly and encouraging.   She didn't give me advice but allowed me to talk openly and express my concerns. She really helped me think things through in just one session.  I know that I can go back at any time if I need to.

After the treatment finishes...

The counsellor also gave me a really good article called 'After the treatment finishes - then what?' by Dr Peter Harvey.  The article talks, for example, about:

• recuperation
• convalescence
• rehabilitation
• regaining trust in your body
• regaining trust in yourself
• living with uncertainty 
• dealing with the world
• regaining mastery and control

As I read it, I reckoned it could have been written about me (apart from the bit where it refers to a woman after breast cancer treatment who decided she needed to change her husband!).  

One particular extract from the article struck me: it described the end of treatment being the beginning of something else - a rebuilding process that needed to be managed and directed and, in psychological terms, this could be the most challenging and difficult time of all.  This really resonated with me.

Once I'd read the article, I knew that I wasn't losing my mind after all.  It talked to me in a language I understood and was written by someone who really appreciated what I (and others) had been going through and still continue to go through.  I found it incredibly helpful and reassuring. 

Review with the breast care nurse

I also had an holistic review with one of Belfast City Hospital's breast care nurses.  We talked about my feelings, particularly my fear of cancer returning, and how to self-examine.  Again I got some really helpful advice.  

The nurse also reiterated that I'd had all the necessary surgery and treatment to help prevent the cancer returning (there are no guarantees, but she did reassure me somewhat).  However there were three things, she said, that were really important to help tackle recurrence:

• maintaining a healthy weight [oops!]
• exercise [yep, I'm doing lots more of this now]
• reducing alcohol [I can't stand the thought of booze as it makes me feel like I'd be drinking poison and the smell reminds me of alcohol wipes.  Thanks chemo 😒.]

So, whilst I can't control the beast that is cancer I can do my best to keep it at bay.

It's a dog's life

I'm saving the best bit 'til last.  I've now got a dog.  It's an eight month old Jack Russell puppy and she is ADORABLE.  I had been dithering about getting a dog because my son has a slight fear of dogs.  I'd even joined a website to 'borrow' a couple of dogs, which I had taken for a few walks. But as soon as I laid eyes on the puppy, I couldn't resist her.

I've called the puppy 'Cara', which is Irish for friend.  I've been taking her out for daily walks.  She's very affectionate and is a quick learner.  In return, Cara is teaching me patience, calmness and is getting me fit. What a diamond.

Cara, my new friend

Time to heal

So there you go.  One minute I'm down, the next I'm up.   But according to Dr Peter Harvey, now is the time to heal, both body and mind.  

It's a long road ahead but hopefully one I'll be able to navigate through even if things get a little bumpy from time to time.

Much love...until next time.

Karen

Mrs Angry

I've been feeling strange of late.  It's coming up to Christmas and even though my chemotherapy and radiotherapy is now over and my tree is up, I don't feel very Christmassy at all.  I want to feel euphoric, I want to embrace this time of year like never before, I want to cherish every moment, I want to look at the lights on the tree and and be excited.  But I don't feel any of that.  I feel empty.  I feel down.  And that makes me feel both guilty and angry.   

I know I should be grateful to be cancer free.  I could've been in a far worse position this Christmas than I actually am.  Anyone who is still living with cancer and may not be looking forward to Christmas or the year ahead, my heart goes out to you.  

I'm now feeling angry that I got cancer in the first place. I'm angry that the disease could rear its ugly head again at ANY time in the future.  I'm angry that cancer is clever and cunning and smart and nasty and evil.  

I don't think I'm enjoying life as much as I thought I would be post-cancer.  I'm not doing all the mad things that I said I would do after treatment was over, or even actively planning to do them.  I'm not laughing as much or as loudly as I used to (many people may be relieved to hear that).  My husband has said to me that I'm not as bubbly as I used to be.  I'm not waking up and feeling blessed that I'm still alive.  

Perhaps it's the hormone therapy (Anastrozole) that's making me feel this way.  I have bone pain and am tired a lot of the time.  It could also be because I'm no longer in the precious cocoon of treatment and forensic care and I don't have that reassuring safety net.  

I understand from speaking to people that what I'm feeling is not unheard of and is quite 'normal'.  That doesn't reassure me or make me feel any better.

I feel guilty that I feel this way.  I just can't get my head around any of this.  I am sure it will get better.  I really hope it will.

Anyway, time for me to shut up and not to be so self-pitying!  Thank you for reading my blogs.  I really do appreciate it.   

I do hope that you all have an enjoyable Christmas/holiday and a happy (or happier) 2018.  And if you're going through a tough time, hold your head up and keep going.  Easier said than done, but as an inspirational woman with advanced cancer recently said to me, "Some of us are brave. All of us are strong."  Too bloody right.

Much love, Karen.