Where Have I, You, Been?

It seems so long ago that I was out walking through the Spring leaves and writing about the beauty of that, but now it's six months later and the leaves are blowing on the ground and the light disappears by five o'clock - plunging the world into an eerie, grey, winter landscape.

So, where have I been? Why has the blog been so quiet? Well, as some people might have guessed: Plunged into a world of greyness, a world of illness, debilitating sickness. Returned to a world of hospital stays and visits, seeing and meeting people at their best and worst, spending every day dreaming of the outside world, of my old life, of the life that I used to have before it became taken over by one word.

There were times, as I clutched the walls, spasming, unable to walk, unable to lead a normal life, that I began to question the future, whether I really wanted any part of it, if this is what the future held. But I would get to go home for a week, before having to return to the kind nurses, who would stroke my head as I vomited once more. Angels one and all. The demon inside me fighting to take over, take control, take away me. Naomi ever beside me, so strong, so brave, even in the dark hours, that still linger.

In hindsight would I have had endured the radiotherapy to my head, that made me so sick, that made me want to die? That seemed to take me to another level of sickness? Would I have endured the trip to Plymouth for neuro-surgery, that left me feeling like an extra from Hans Christian Anderson - two horns being all that's left of my struggle to stay well, to stay alive, to stay in the world. Of my time on a ward where people hit themselves to take away the pain, both mental and physical, a world where rationality had gone. Well, that's the dilemma of illness - of the fight every day, every moment - to keep on, keepin' on. When the soul feels empty, sometimes it's easier to give up, to stop fighting. But I just can't do it, the fight goes on, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.

But let me not take pity on myself, wallow in the grief of a life no longer my own, for I know that I am lucky to be here, to be able to kick the dog (if only proverbially), annoy Naomi and walk amongst the beauty of the world. Okay, getting up the stairs is a struggle, so my dream of climbing Mont Blanc has gone out the window, but when every day is a challenge that maybe is enough in itself.

Naomi and Purdey take a break

Back in July we went to the Lakes for a week, which was a disaster - my illness preventing me from living the life that I wanted to, the start of a process still continuing. We did manage two days out on the fells, back amongst those beautiful hills, that keep me sane when all around me is falling to pieces...So here are a few pictures of a happier time, but one that's hopefully slowly returning, even though it maybe in a way different to how I'd imagined things.

Wasdale's Middle Fell, looking to the Scafells.

My favourite view, as it was the nation's.

You can't keep a good dog down, or out of the water.

So, the start of my blogging again, I'm sorry that it's not been an easy read. But it's not been an easy six months, as it's not easy living with cancer, that is the reality. Let me start to write again, to try to regain a voice. Please carry on reading and let me know what you think.