Hopes for the New Year

berries

2016 has come and gone. There were a few health hiccups for me along the way but nothing compared to the amount of grief and suffering in the world at large.  Now 2017 is here and already people are committing atrocities, inhumane and yet so tragically human. My hopes for a peaceful new year will just have to lie dormant for another 364 days and see what 2018 brings. Something tells me it’ll be much longer before we all wake up to find our planet free from strife with every vestige of humanity behaving as truly civilised. I live in hope though, as I’m sure many others do.

Since world peace is well beyond my capabilities, my hopes for 2017 are considerably smaller and more intimate.  While many people have been enjoying the Christmas break, work, study and revision (a lot of revision) have been the order of the day for our family. So my first hope is that those of us who’ve been working get a break and those of us who’ve been revising pass our upcoming exams and settle in to our placements for the year ahead.

My next hope is that my friends and family stay happy and healthy in 2017.  Last year was something of a trial for most of us and in the end we weren’t unhappy to wish it goodbye.  None of us is equipped to deal with too much death, despair and difficulty in such a short period of time.  I know I’m still a bit worn down by it all so a less eventful year on the bad news front together with positive physical and mental wellbeing for all of you is my wish this year.

The last of my hopes for 2017 is a personal one because this year marks the 5 year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis.  If I sat down to write all the things that have happened since June 2012, the challenges, the bête noir, the unending uncertainty and the sheer weight of it all I fear I might lose touch with my sanity.  So instead it shall stay in the past where it rightly belongs and I shall hold hope that health-wise, 2017 is incredibly, remarkably and boringly uneventful for me.  Because uneventful means the likelihood of a reoccurrence, whilst never fully extinguished, is considerably diminished from June onwards.

Whatever you leave behind from 2016 and whatever you hope for from this new year, may health and happiness be your faithful companions in 2017 too.

Stocking confessions

For anyone who thinks stockings are a throwback to the 40’s and the post-war frenzy of the nylon riots, fear not. Stockings are alive and well and making a huge comeback in my household and the homes of countless other women across the globe. These stockings are immensely functional, have a hint of sheen, an open toe and a block heel. They also have a small seam. They’re manufactured by a German company but I don’t think it’s Falke, which is a shame because Falke make good stockings. Falke or fake, I’ve been persuaded to wear these very special stockings for at least the next two weeks because I’m reliably told they are a lingerie lifesaver, for me and others like me.

Of course no stocking is ever perfect and often we have to contend with bad length, limited silkiness, wonky seams and the like. Length and texture are certainly a bit challenging though it’s fair to say I’m tall. A further downside is that they only come in white and the denier rating is a bit on the high side, easily twenty-times greater than the best pair of 5 deniers I ever owned. (Back in the days when stockings were at least as important as non-chip nail polish, 4 inch heels and a big can of Elnet.) However as I’ve already indicated they’re extraordinarily functional, extremely unlikely to ladder or run, afford excellent durability – they’ll survive at least 100 washes in the automatic machine but more likely 10,000 – they’re warm, and of course their unique selling point is the all important lingerie lifesaver label. Who could possibly resist?

I have a love-hate relationship with these stockings. They represent all that’s been difficult in my life yet they also represent hope, the chance of a future. They’ve kept me out of trouble on at least 5 separate occasions including today and will do so for another coming up in the not so distant future. It appears they’re very well designed to prevent unwanted pregnancies, ward off perverts (bet you didn’t think stockings could do that) and double-up as flight socks for anyone planning to jet across the planet or sign-up for Virgin Galatic. I suspect there’s every possibility of remaining a virgin for centuries in these beauties but its also reassuring to know I’m very unlikely to suffer a DVT (deep vein thrombosis) following  my trip to theatre today.

No, I didn’t see Miss Saigon but I did meet three very nice male anaesthetists, a lovely lady theatre nurse, a fabulous and stunning staff nurse and of course my all time favourite Miss M.  I didn’t have to wait around as I was first on the list for surgery which is good for all sorts of reasons and I think (hope) I’m now at the end of all cancer-related surgeries, revisions and repairs. Das ist alles as they say in Falke.

As with the stockings, rarely is anything completely perfect and though I warned of the heinous condition of my left side veins the consultant anaesthetist suggested the junior anaesthetist should “go for the one looking sort of ok-ish below the left index finger.” So he did, it didn’t work, I felt incredibly sorry for him – its my fault not his, and consultant anaesthetist then had to prod my right hand which was equally touch and go for a while. We got there in the end and consultant anaesthetist apologised to his junior and to me saying “I’m sorry, we should have listened as you do know your veins well.” Far too well for my liking, an intimate knowledge in fact, and so accurate that I pity anyone who has anything to do with them. Another reason on the long list of reasons why I’m very glad das ist alles on the cancer-related surgery front. (Gall bladder next and that really should be it, all done, cyborg here I come!)

After morphine and Fentanyl for the operation itself, a combination that makes me wonder why anyone would become an addict because the effects are so way out they are completely bewildering, not enjoyable, I’ve resisted any further pain killers and feel much better for it. After swimming in drugs through much of 12/13 I now steer clear as far as possible. This post-op discomfort is well within the realms of manageable, a reflection I think on the skills of the surgery team. I’m told healing is 3-6 weeks, nothing at all strenuous for 6, no driving or work for 3. That’s a real challenge because my job needs a lot of attention, the university is extremely busy, we have students to recruit, systems to develop, projects to deliver and as ever, IT problems to resolve.  Aside from all that, 3 weeks of daytime TV is almost certainly bad for my health (and sanity) and my favourite recuperation past-time – growing things to eat –  is off limits. No digging, hoeing, mowing or sowing.

So while I contemplate what to do while doing very little and avoiding as much daytime TV as possible I leave you with a photo of my souvenirs from today – port and starboard – complete with coloured gauze and post-surgery puffiness.

I couldn’t post the stockings, they’re far too risqué!