Coins and Cancer

Over the years Barry has collected coins from far and wide. As we scratched our heads in our annual 'what to buy for Christmas' conundrum, the bright idea came to turn the coins into bracelets. Barry spent hours researching the coins so that we didn't inadvertently drill a hole through a million dollar long lost collectible. No, all the coins were almost worthless. Coins were drilled with an eensy teeny weeny drill bit using two pairs of glasses so that Barry did not drill a hole into his own hand and thereby give himself an orifice that would not be appreciated. But how to join them? Apparently, the joiny bit is called a 'jump ring', available in various colours of cheapness. Each child will receive a bracelet or bangle that will represent a personal memory of their father or grandfather along with a handmade tray. Yay, we have nailed (and jump ringed) the holiday gift giving this year. Well, we hope so anyway. What we did find though was one coin that was valued at far above face value. Yes, we have a collectible. For real and for certain. Not that we are going to be instant millionaires. Sadly we still fit in the category of nillionaires. I am now officially retired and on a government pension that hovers around the 'enough as long as you don't have an emergency' level. The statistician came around and asked our opinions of services for the elderly and videod our responses. 'Have we ever been fearful in our own home?' No .... can we buy what we need and not what we want .. yes. And so it went on for an hour. Luckily we had Dr. Who on record, otherwise, the statistician might just have been thrown out on his ear until Dr. Who had done her usual dramatic tricks for the night. You do have to get your priorities right after all. Who cares if we have access to public transport if we miss a crucial scary moment of a TV show? And no, we don't have public transport and unless you drive a car you are more or less stuck in town and whatever you can walk to. Just as well that Barry can drive because I have had major surgery and have had my driver's license removed for the next two months. You have no idea how nice it is to just jump into the car and pop down to the shops until you are no longer able to do it. Ah well, healing is much more important than driving ... apparently. Walking anywhere is still a hit and miss thing as my legs are quite wobbly.

While I was in the operating rooms, a young research assistant came and asked if they could use my cancer for research. Of course, I said yes. But with a caveat..... not to be used on animals. The young man seemed surprised but I was adamant that I did not want some little animal to suffer for my health. I could see it was on the tip of his tongue to say 'But it's only a rat' .... I don't know if he thought that would make the choice easier. I remember my cousin John, had a pet rat. Cutest thing ever. Anyhow, caveat signed off and accepted by the research guy and now we wait and see what result he comes up with. What I wanted to know was whether the cancer is hereditary. Will my daughters and granddaughters of the future have to walk this same path? Not if I can do anything to prevent it .... too late for me but hopefully not for my descendants. I read up extensively before the operation and was prepared for all sorts of side effects. I waited for the tears to fall ... didn't. I waited for the pain ... yes, but manageable. I waited for the horrible hospital food. Sadly, yes. It was dry and tasteless but then who am I kidding? Hospital food is never going to be good. Now I am waiting for the morphine brain to clear so that I can actually read a book without not understanding a word. I love reading and not to be able to escape reality and into the realms of storytelling is horrendous. Maybe I should see if Dr. Who is available for a re-run or two to distract me? One thing I am really grateful for this week ... loose dresses that do not touch the body. Yes, it is a pleasure to pull on an outfit that allows me to flop around in comfort without wincing at every movement.

Many years ago my Gran sewed our dresses and pj's. I remember a seersucker outfit that was so so pretty it brought tears to my eyes. But sitting in the hospital with those awful, rough, ugly hospital gowns on, I came to appreciate my Grandmother's skills on a whole new level. She could take ugly and turn it into gorgeous with a few nips and tucks, frills and bows. I look at my wedding dress and am amazed at what she did with my offering of cheesecloth. Yes, I was a bride of the 70's and hippy to the core. When I was a young mum, I invested in some fantastic negligee outfits to sleep in. Silk, satin, and lace .... oh dear, what was I thinking? I felt like a movie star in them even when I was dealing with puking children and runny noses. And now I am happy to sleep in a t-shirt concoction that is ugly and comfortable. But that hospital stay ... well, that was an affront to the senses. The gowns were shapeless, rough and way past ugly that they should have a whole category of their own. Yes, I did allow myself to be photographed but I am seriously thinking of burning the photos .... or maybe even the gowns. I yearned for that pale green silk and lace thing I used to swan around in 30 years ago. Do you know what? I have never been able to find anything comparable in the shops ever since. In those days we had underwear parties. Yes, just like Tupperware, but with nighties and pj's. A lady would present us with these amazing creations and us women would egg each other on to buy the most outrageous pieces imaginable. I remember one lady saying that she might never wear her purchase. Really? Why not wear the good stuff? I wish I had a cabinet of past and present pj's .... and have had my Gran with her sewing machine with me at the hospital last week to help me cope. She would have whipped out her tape measure and scissors ... tutted a few times and then snip snip snip and I would have felt like a queen in my gown. Aaaah sorry Gran for not giving you the thanks you deserved at the time.

Well folks, thanks for your kind words and offers of help. The bunches of grapes and strawberries by the punnet load and thank you so much for being in my life even when I am dressed like a horror story character.