We are all artists

Like many kids, I loved drawing. I would do it a lot: mostly portraits of my cats sleeping, and also making picture books. Once I made a little book called ‘The Woodland Folke’; it was about squirrels and other British animals in a very British setting, which is odd as I didn’t go anywhere near the UK or even Europe until I was 16.

I did art as a teenager too, but slowly grew out of it as I grew older. Nothing unusual there, sadly. As someone once said, every child is an artist, so why are so few adults? It’s so sad, because creativity is brilliant for stress relief and escaping the noise and screens of life.

As a 33 year-old cancer patient, my life suddenly got strangely quiet. Yes, I still had my family and kids and numerous hospital appointments, but there was a lot I couldn’t do. I had chemo fatigue, I was hugely restricted on socialising, and I was house-bound for much of the time. What I could easily do, without leaving the house or being subject to germs, was draw.

I found #shapechallenge (run by @StudioTeabreak )on Twitter, and started to draw small and umimpressive doodles most days. It didn’t tire me out, let me be creative, and gave me a sense that at least I had done something ‘useful’ that day. It also offered a sense of community which had suddenly slowed to a trickle once my treatment started.

It was wonderful.

Now, 3 years later, I can draw so much better, and still love the artistic community and support on Twitter. Now I regularly take part on #PortraitChallenge which I never thought I would be good enough to do. Novices, book illustators and all sorts of creative types take part, and it’s great.

I also do drawings just for the sheer pleasure, and as gifts for friends. I have also contributed to the #breastcancerart project, which recognises the theraputic value of art for those living with or after cancer.

I realised that every time I draw, I feel happier. Some of the chaos of life is silenced and I have a little more peace. If something causes so much joy and isn’t illegal or bad for me, I would be crazy not to do it!

I believe that we are all made to be creative, but adult life squeezes it out of us until we are fooled into thinking that we can’t make or do anything beautiful. For some it’s visual art, others music, others baking, writing, carpentry or dance, but I believe that there is an artist in all of us, desperate to get out there.

Sometimes, I think that my drawing isn’t good enough to share, or that because I’m not using paint that it’s not ‘real’ art, or that people will judge me for showing off; but I know that those are lies and I will never be fully the person who I am made to be if I allow myself to be silenced.

And actually, what other people think of my art isn’t important (although of course I want it to be liked); because drawing makes me happy, and therefore is of great value. What could be simpler that that? 😊

Go to

http://www.jabberworks.co.uk/virtual-studio/

For more info on #shapechallenge and #portraitchallenge

For more about the breast cancer art project, go to

https://breastcancerartproject.wordpress.com

 

 

 

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Fatigue after cancer

I have wanted to blog about fatigue for a while now, but have been too tired to. Oh the irony!

The reality is that many people suffer from fatigue even many years after cancer treatments have stopped.

Fatigue is more than feeling tired after a busy day at work, or looking after children. It can last weeks, months, even many years. You can sleep well, exercise, eat healthily and still feel fatigued.

I looked up fatigue on thesaurus.com and found these synonyms:

Lethargy
Weakness
Weariness
Debility
Burnout
Overtiredness

I do love, admire, enjoy a thesaurus.

I don’t think that it’s possible to completely avoid fatigue during and after treatment, but I have found some thimgs that can help.

 

1. Go to bed

It sounds obvious, but if you are tired, and you can, then go to bed early. It’s no use trying to power through until 11pm if you are knackered by 9. I learned this the hard way; you won’t do yourself any favours by trying to stay up late. It’s likely to lead to being overtired and struggling to fall asleep.

And if you need a nap in the day, then have one if possible. I have half-hour cat-naps sometimes, and they work brilliantly. Any longer and I would sleep worse at night. Or if you can’t nap, just lying on the sofa and reading a book can help.

 

2. Read before bed

The stress of cancer treatments and ongoing side-effects can cause insomnia. I always read for a while before going to sleep. If you don’t like reading, there are lots of great quality older child or young adult novels out there. They are accessable and well-written. Anything by these authors is good:

Eion Colfer, C S Lewis, Suzanne Collins, Tom Gates, Liz Pichon, JK Rowling, Malorie Blackman, Enid Blyton and Lauren St John.

And don’t go on social media if you can’t sleep! It will be like drinking an espresso for your brain.

 

3. Know your limits

If you can work, great. I was desperate to get back to work after active treatment finished, but I also knew that I would not cope with working full-time. Not everyone will have the option to work part-time, but pushing yourself to work all hours to prove how well you are doing, is likely to lead to burn-out.

Your body and mind have been through a shockingly intense time, and will take longer than you think to recover. Remember that chemo kills cells, and radiotherapy alters DNA. A couple of aspirin these are not.

When I first returned to work, I needed a short nap most afternoons before dinner, just to get me through to bed-time. And on my days off, I would make plans to do numerous chores or be super-sociable. I just couldn’t keep this up. I expected to be back to normal after my treatments, but my body wasn’t ready. I started giving myself an actual day off in the week, not out of selfishness but necessity. I felt so much better because of this.

 

4. Don’t worry about what other people think

You have probably had someone say to you,

“Your cancer treatment has finished. That’s great, so you are all better now.”

Or, “Cool, everything is back to normal now. And you look so well.”

Although well-intentioned, remember that anyone who hasn’t had cancer doesn’t know what they are talking about. They want to encourage you, and don’t know what else to say. But cancer is not a bad cold. The affects of chemo, radiotherapy, surgery and hormone treatments can cause numerous side-effects that may last for many years. And then there’s the psychological damage that cancer can cause.

You may be back to work, your hair may be growing back beautifully, and you might look very well. But that doesn’t mean that your body will spring back to perfect health within minutes of waving goodbye to your oncologist.

Fatigue is your body’s way of saying “Hang on, what just happened? I need to figure this out: just give me some time.”

You can’t force your fatigue to go, no matter how much you want to forget about ever having had cancer. So ignore those who tell you that you should be back working full-time, out partying every weekend and to stop moaning about being tired.

 

5. Do some light exercise

I’m not going to recommend joining a gym, because for me, that would be a huge waste of money. But try to do a little exercise. Sometimes I feel really tired, so go for a short (20-30 minute) walk. I always feel better afterwards. The tiredness won’t disappear, but I will probably sleep better that night. And I can then enjoy some chocolate while lazing on the sofa as a reward. ☺

Stretches are great too. If you had any surgery, daily streteches will improve your strength and reduce any chance of lymphodaema. Gentle exercise like stretching your arms abive your head a few times, and ‘walking’ your hands up the wall will be helpful.

Or if you used to do pilates or yoga, or think it might be for you, you could have a look on Youtube for beginners’ exercises.

Remember that weightlifting is not advised if you have had a mastectomy.

Breast Cancer Care have some useful info about exercise after treatment.

 

6. Be kind to yourself

Think if what you would say to a close friend who has gone through cancer. Now say it to yourself, and listen to your advice.

I have struggled a lot with this one. Possibly because I am a mum with young kids. Mums just have to get on with it, don’t they?

But you won’t do yourself or your family any favours if you wear yourself into the ground. It’s impossible to spring right back to your pre-cancer self, so give yourself a break.

Learn how to say “No.”

If your boss,  friends or family ask too much or expect you to perform at maximum efficiency, explain that you have post-cancer fatigue. Talk about how common it is after treatment, and that you may look great but your body has been through a terrible time. They have probably never heard of it, and will hopefully be much more understanding when you explain it to them.

This doesn’t mean that you can never go for a family day out again. But maybe start with a half-day and see how you get on. Maybe ask your parents or friends to have the kids one afternoon so that you can have a mega nap. Don’t take on overtime at work if you are struggling to get through a normal day.

 

7.  If you are worried or there are any changes, see a doctor

Your fatigue might be improved by something as simple as iron tablets, for example, if you have anaemia.

You know now more than ever, to keep an eye on any changes in your body. Don’t put off making a doctor’s appointment if you notice anything or if fatigue is stopping you from carrying out normal daily activities.

Happy 3rd cancerversary to me.

Happy cancerversary to me!
It’s three years exactly since I had my official diagnosis. I had the tests the previous week, and had been told that they could see it was cancer. But 15 April was the official, biopsy-confirmed diagnosis of stage 3 breast cancer, with spread to the lymph nodes.
Maybe I shouldn’t mark this day: after all, it wasn’t a happy occasion. Perhaps my last chemo, in August, would be more appropriate. Or my surgery date, of 13 October, when the cancer was properly cut out. Or my last day of radiotherapy, in early February. That’s the thing with cancer: it gives you many important milestones. But, I’ll stick with this date I think. After all, it is a birthday of sorts. A day when I waved goodbye to the normal healthy young woman that I was, and started my new life as a cancer patient, then survivor.
So how do I feel this year? Last year, on my 2nd cancerversary, I was elated. I had recently stopped my life-destroying (how ironic, as they are actually intended to stretch out my lifespan just a little longer, but to the unacceptable cost of all joy or peace for me and my family) drugs, and was happy feeling a lot like the old Alex.
This year, I honestly don’t know how I feel. How am I meant to feel? Life as a cancer survivor is one without a map.
Sometimes I am hugely relieved just to be alive and every extra day is a blessing. Other times it feels like I cheated death, and it’s just waiting for me in the wings; until I am really comfortable. Then I forget all about cancer and feel like a normal healthy person. Occasionally I feel boring and tired. Sometimes I feel I have been given a second chance: an eye-opening brush with my own mortality that seems like more a blessing than a curse. Then I think of how much my kids have grown up in the last three years: will I still be around for the next three? I am reminded of how God has blessed me with such a wonderful life, and how I shouldn’t waste it. Then I worry that I won’t be around to see my children finish school, get a job, get married, have their own children. Sometimes I believe that I will live to 90, just to prove a point. Other times I am grateful that I can help people newly diagnosed. Then I will feel that I’m not doing enough for those in the cancer community. And I also think about how unfair life is: not for me, but for the people without a voice; like the innocents being bombed in Syria, and the people struggling to survive in Burundi. And I think that I should shut up about cancer, after all, I am well and what’s the point of moaning? Then I can’t be bothered to think, and just want to watch telly, draw a doodle or read a book. So yeah, that’s a typical day!
I haven’t celebrated this day as such, but my daughter and I did bake cupcakes, which are surprisingly good.  And what is the point of surviving cancer if you can’t enjoy a home-made cupcake now and then?

Paddington Bear has an adventure in London.

Paddington Bear at Monument Tube 12042018
Hello, I am Paddington Bear. Today, some humans called Mike and Alex bought me from a shop in London, and took me on an adventure. I have always lived up on a shelf in the shop, so had never seen London properly before. Just a lot of tourists’ heads.
Mike and P Bear on tube 12042018
We went on the tube, which is an underground train network! Even though we were underground, I didn’t see any earthworms or mud. I sat on Mike’s shoulder for a good view.
London Eye 11042018
We went on a boat ride on the Thames. It was so cool: we saw lots of things, like this big wheel. I think that people who have been very naughty are made to go on it, as punishment.
20180412_113315_Richtone(HDR)
My owners took me up a ridiculously tall building, called the Shard. I was too scared to get out of Alex’s backpack. Bears are Not made to be this high up! Afterwards, I needed a cuddle and some marmalade sandwiches to recover.
Paddington Bear on bench 12042018
I got tired from all the adventuring and needed a sit-down, and look what we found! A bench with my name on it. What are the chances?
Paddington Bear at Paddington Underground station
There is a tube station named after me! How cool is that? 
20180412_134554_Richtone(HDR)
Then we went to a very noisy and busy train station. I like London, but there are just too many people. I found this extremely old bear, who told me all about Peru, which is where us Paddingtons all came from many years ago. He is very popular: I saw lots of people getting their photo with him.

 

Paddington Bear shop London 12042018
We found an awesome shop, full of bears just like me! I made lots of friends. They are all hoping for families to take them home. Living in a shop can be quite boring. Except for the parties after closing-time, of course.
Paddington Bear on train to Swindon 12042018
Mike, Alex and I got on a train, heading for Swindon, which is where cool people live, so I hear. I read a book.
Me and PBear on train from London to Swindon 1204
Alex let me sit on her shoulder for a while. Trains are interesting. There was a man on his phone though, talking about business for the whole journey. I felt very sleepy and had a quick nap. When I woke up, we were in Swindon.
B cuddling PBear from behind
Mike and Alex took me to their home. I have a new owner called Bethany, who loves me very much. She makes me marmalade sandwiches every day. ☺

January again

January. Such a weird time of year. Many of us have eaten, drunk and spent too much over Christmas, and are now expected to come up with an unrealistically long list of things that we are going to achieve in the coming year. We are supposed to be healthy, have big goals and look forward with unbridled joy to the the amazing new year. Sod that. I have always thought that new year is such a disappointment.

Cancer hasn’t helped with that. For the last few Januaries, I have not wanted to look back over the past year, nor look ahead too far either. That’s the thing with cancer, it tries to steal your future, even if you have been given the ‘No evidence of disease’ good news.

I went to a NYE party at a friend’s house this year. It was just what I needed- a chance to be sociable, be silly and absolutely no pressure to look cool for social media (in fact, I’m pretty sure I was the opposite), to or get raving drunk to ‘prove’ how much fun I was having.

I realised that it’s been several years since I haven’t either dreaded or ignored the new year celebrations. For the last few years, that was thanks to cancer and its long list of treatments, side-effects (such as social isolation) and associated illnessses; and before that thanks to pregnancy or having a baby and not a lot of sleep.

So how do I feel about the start of another year?

Well, it’s hard to be too positive, as 2017 was supposed to be my going-back-to-normal year, when in fact it was a succession of illnesses and other unfortunate events. There were a few of highlights, such as having all of my family together; two cute arrivals; and Christmas, which I really enjoyed (and actually felt well on the day! 😁)

But, generally, I am feeling cautiously optimistic. I have a few Very Good Events to look forward to in 2018. Having a life-threatening disease is great at helping you to value every celebration; every birth and wedding and new start, because there were never any guarantees that you would be around to see them.

And when you have been told by the doctor that you are unlikely to be around for too many more… but I am able to live in the moment and not worry about the future, now that I can’t take having a long life for granted; in a way that nobody who has never been confronted with their imminent mortality just cannot understand. It’s a blessing in disguise, because it helps you to chuck out the junk of life, while holding onto the precious, much more easily.

I know that whatever happens this year, I will be glad that I am here to experience it, even the bad stuff.

If there was one thing that I could wish you, it would be that you could see how amazing this gift of life is: never perfect, often surprising, and far too short to waste worrying about all the junk, like how cool you look on social media. 😎

 

But for now, just sleep.

Slowly, I open the door.

Quietly, I walk in.

Flat out on your back

And arms spread wide like a hug,

You sleep.

 

Gently, your breath,

In and out,

In and out,

Fills my heart.

 

Too soon, the day will start.

Rushing around,

Getting ready for school,

Hurrying out the house.

But for now, just sleep.

 

Golden hair cascades in waves

Over the pillow.

Eyelids flicker ceaselessly.

Of what do you dream?

 

You do not know that I am here.

You do not know how grateful I am

To be so.

Soon the day will begin.

But for now, my beautiful girl,

Just sleep.

 

Softly you breathe,

In and out,

In and out.

And every breath sounds like

Hope.