The shady market scene in one of the backstreet hutongs
It’s the anniversary of Dad’s death two years ago, and I need to do something positive to take my mind of all the losses of recent years.
So I decide to branch out and see some of Beijing on my own: the hutongs beckon. Hutongs are the very core of the city, vibrant and thriving communities, which date back to Mongol times. In the 1950s there were as many of 6000 of these streets crisscrossing the city – all east to west for good feng shui – but the bulldozers moved in and razed many to the ground in the name of progress. Now around 2000 remain, and the government seems to have realised that they are good tourist attractions and can feed their coffers with tax; the destruction seems to be on hold. Continue reading →
My second tour, to all the classic sites – Tian’anmen Square, The Forbidden City, The Temple of Heaven and the Summer Palace – is far less fun than my trip to the Wall. As I said before, it’s all about the company you keep: the two German girls of Turkish origin were perfectly nice, but kept to themselves, and the guide – who proudly showed us photos of him with Daniel Craig, Bill Clinton and other celebs – was, as a result, rather big for his boots and decided that the three of us did not merit any more than a cursory whizz around. He also had a smartass answer for everything, which grated after a while. Continue reading →
Here I am in Beijing, and it’s hot! We arrived late Monday afternoon and the first thing I did was to book a tour, The Forbidden City and all the main attractions in Beijing, or so I thought. Imagine my surprise when I discover that I am in fact going to the Great Wall at 7 am! Language is a problem here, even in international hotels… Continue reading →
Now back in Singapore after a smooth trip over. It’s been an eventful week with a public holiday, hard work for Ross and an unwelcome health scare to boot.
May Day takes us by surprise and with an unexpected free day on our hands and nothing planned – seemed naughty to take a long weekend after so much time away, as most of Singapore does – so we decide to visit the extraordinary Haw Par Villa, as recommended by one of Louise’s friends. Continue reading →
The trip to Mt Fuji does not start well. Picked up in a large bus at our hotel and told I would have to pay at the bus station before departure. Premonitions of chaos as the bus circles the station three times before we can get off – sakura season (cherry blossom), the busiest time of the year. Continue reading →
‘No problem finding your train, all well signposted,’ the concierge in Tokyo assures me. Arriving at Tokyo station to take bullet train Nazomi 121 to Kyoto in peak rush hour, we find the place teeming with people running in all directions and the boards only giving information for the next 20minutes. In Japan, few people speak English, but by brandishing our tickets at a man in uniform, we are ably directed to the correct platform. Continue reading →
I had thought about changing the title of this blog since I have decided to hijack it to share my latest excitements. But then I thought, this is a journey, not in the traditional sense, but one that will chart my travelling from illness to health, from fear to confidence, and from anxiety to a state of mental well-being.
This inspiration came thanks to Mark G, who alerted me to a BBC World Service programme on the Rhetoric of Cancer, presented by a prostate survivor (like Ross) Andrew Graystone. In it he questions the use of all this aggressive and belligerent military terminology: after all, our tumours are a part of us – better to embrace them, stop being a victim and learn how to live with it.
So this blog is going to be more about how I come to terms with my cancer, as I did with Louise’s death, the ups and downs, uncertainties and anxieties but, above all, how I will live with it until the journey ends with my physical and mental wholeness.
About to tuck into Black Pepper Crab on Saturday night
One of the great lessons I learned from Louise’s death is the benefit of sharing grief and troubles. My immediate Facebook entry the day she died produced such a fountain of love and support that it really helped pull us through the most terrible time of our lives.That’s why as soon as I heard the ominous word ‘tumour’ I decided, stranded as I am in Singapore, to share again and with as much honesty as I can bear. It has paid dividends…so many wonderful warm and loving messages (less of the beating and fighting now please!), and offers of help of all kinds. I feel embraced and enfolded in an aura of love and unconditional support. Thank you dear friends.
The other main reason for this blog is to keep all you lovely people updated so I don’t have to endlessly repeat myself.
So here goes:
I have had my dark night of the soul – described in the last blog – where I allocated my prized possessions to my dearest friends; where I made a bucket list of ‘Things to do and see before I die’. But now I find I have taken back my belongings and converted that list into another trip to Mana Pools next August, a diving holiday on a fabulous boat in Raja Ampat and a three week trip to Burma. Not bad for someone staring death in the face a few days ago! Reflecting my Carpe Diem mentality, I have always believed in having things to look forward to.
We have now decided that I will be treated at the Marsden. By amazing coincidence Dr Fi was at a conference of early diagnosis cancer specialists on the day she got my text, and a quick survey of the assembled docs pointed to the Marsden, the main reason being the Marsden’s multidisciplinary team approach, so it’s a one-stop shop of excellence. Thanks to another extraordinary coincidence, one of the Marsden surgeons Prof Khong has recommended, Meirion Thomas, is not only a soft tissue sarcoma expert but he also specialises in saving legs…and just happens to be a very good friend of chum Pen. So that’s easy then.
The next dilemma has been whether to go NHS or private: you see the same people whichever route you choose. However, new NHS regs mean that every step of the way is dictated by a referral process, which can take up to 2 weeks…even my GP (who nearly fell off her chair when I rang her, the sarcoma is so rare) agreed that to go private has to be the best option. Someone who does not have insurance can benefit from my place in the queue.
Prof Khong has wanted me to stay here for a couple of weeks to decrease the possibility of a DVT on the flight back, and to give the wound a chance to heal. So our flights are all booked back on 10 December, with my Marsden appointment on 11th. The leg is still painful, wrapped in a huge bandage, which I haven’t dared to take off yet. I think the wound isn’t so bad, it’s just the tumour pressing on the nerves again.
My lovely leg, a single stitch and very little bruising, about 4 inches long…
But in one of those heart-in-your-mouth moments that I suspect is only the first of many, this morning I hear that Prof Thomas would like me to come back asap. Of course, this immediately makes me feel very anxious…I had been reassured that the cancer would not spread in two weeks, so I am left wondering what is so urgent. I know that my sarcoma is very rare but we won’t know exactly what sort it is, and therefore how best to treat it, until Wednesday, when the histology comes in. As someone said, ‘Trust you Vix to have the rarest form of cancer. You always do things in style’. And another complimented me on being a ‘rare bird’. Indeed.
So trot back to see Prof Khong, who unbandages me and all looks good, albeit the cut rather longer than I had imagined. He agrees that so long as I take the anti-clotting jabs in my tum (self inflicted!) and wear these lovely stockings – see photo – I can go as soon as the results are in and the slides ready. So now booked to leave on Saturday 30, arriving Sunday 1 December. Are you ready London?
My sexy stockings that I have to wear until I start my treatments…
He says that many of these sarcomas don’t respond to radiotherapy and there’s a 50% chance that they may operate immediately. Forewarned is forearmed. I’m ready for anything….
Meanwhile, we have a dear friend, JP, from Barbados staying. We have been out to some delicious meals, albeit me on a stick and not able to walk more than a few yards. And tonight I’m cooking one of my famous Thai Green Curries. But what the hell – a girl’s gotta have fun!
When our lovely daughter Louise died, aged 21, I really felt I didn’t want to go on living. But, gradually, through the love and support of my husband Ross, son Tommy and my fabulous friends, I came to an understanding with life, and realised that I could re-discover my old zest for it.
Since Louise died we have travelled the world – from Bhutan, where we erected prayer flags in her memory, to Kerala, Zimbabwe, Kenya (where we interred her ashes with those of her grandparents), Switzerland to ski and walk in the mountains, and then a move to Singapore with Ross, where we have been capitalising on the delights of the Far East: India, Malaysia, the Philippines, China and Indonesia. All in 9 months!
Suddenly all this recovery is catapulted into outer space. Yesterday I was diagnosed with a soft tissue sarcoma of the calf, and here I am today in hospital having had a biopsy and a PET scan, waiting to hear the prognosis. Our 30th anniversary dream diving holiday to Wakatobi in Sulawesi cancelled – we should be there right now!
* * *
The tumor began as a suspected hematoma in the calf, which would not go away: I had a couple of weeks of ultrasound and massage, with lots of stretching but it seemed to get increasingly painful. By Monday this week, I was beginning to have difficulty walking without limping, so decided to go back to the GP. Suddenly I was being rushed to a vascular surgeon, having an MRI, followed by a consultation with an orthopedic surgeon and, finally, today into hospital to have a PET scan and biopsy.
Post biopsy feeling sore!
The last 36 hours have been very dark indeed. Reading up on Soft Tissue Sarcomas (STS) of the calf was hardly comforting: not only is it extremely rare, but also the treatments include chemo, radiotherapy and excisions, sometimes all three, and often two of the above. Then there’s no guarantee that the excision will not affect your nerve, and you might be unlucky enough to lose your leg; at best your calf muscle will probably be damaged.
But the worst scenario is that it could have spread to the soft issues of the lung, liver and pancreas. In that case it is usually terminal.
Last night I could not sleep, hardly surprising really. ‘Why me?’ As Louise would have said, ‘Its not my fault’. What have we done to deserve all this bad luck: the deaths in close succession of my mother, Louise, and then father, with Ross’s prostate cancer in-between? He at least is now clear. I have never believed in God and I certainly would not be tempted to do so now!
At 3 am I am sitting on my lounger overlooking our softly-lit pool, all calming turquoise and gently fading pinky/mauve lights, the palms gently rustling in the breeze, and breathing in the scented tropical air. Out of nowhere a big storm rolls in, forked lightening and soft rain. I begin to think how much I love my life, my husband, son and friends, and I am not ready to go just yet. So much travelling to do, so much laughter and joy to be had…but later in the darkness of the bedroom as I toss and turn and remember my maxim, Carpe Diem, I can see that elusive day flitting away from me like a will o the wisp, tantalisingly out of reach.
* * *
The worst moment today was when I was recalled to the PET scan: ‘We think we have seen something on your pancreas and liver and need to re-check it’.
As I lie in the tomb-like scan, tears roll down my cheeks, my whole body trying not to convulse – you have to keep very still – silently shouting out, I don’t want to die!
And maybe my time has not yet come: the radiologist confirms that while there was indeed ‘hot spot’ ie tumor in the calf, what they had thought were shadows on the other internal organs turn out to be my gut. Phew!
But we are not out of the woods yet; the precise nature of my tumor has to be diagnosed and treatments agreed. I will come back to England for those, at least 6-7 weeks of horridness. I will probably lose my calf muscle – no more mountain walks – but should be able to ski again in due course. These are small but meaningful mercies if one can at least continue to live.
Arriving back in Mumbai this time feels like the welcome embrace of a dear friend. To start with, there’s Mehtab to meet us at the airport, despite the late hour, and we’re staying with Cindy and Guy, whose flat in Bandra is now more like a museum filled with objets from the Chor Bazaar.
Diwali flowers at Cindy and Guy’s flat
First things first, though: its Ross’s birthday on Saturday, so we take him on a whirlwind tour of Mumbai. First stop the Gateway to India, where we are mobbed by kids all dying to be photographed. We take Guy and Cindy’s Christmas card shot for them (here’s a sneak preview).
Christmas card for Mr and Mrs Thomas
Posing rather against her will…
While brandishing my iPhone, an annoying German man quips, ‘Ach, I see you don’t like your phone’. Seeing me looking very puzzled, he continues, ‘It will be stolen if you don’t put it away’. Stunned by Mr Busybody all I can muster is Smartass, as loudly as I can. For the record, I have had absolutely no trouble on the streets of Mumbai, despite wandering around the Chor (Thieves) Bazaar with £250 of Rupees in my handbag!
Fresh fruit stall at the Bombay Gateway
Bustling crowds at the Gateway
It’s a holiday atmosphere, the weekend sandwiched between Diwali and Muhurram (Hindu and Muslim New Year respectively). The crowds are vibrant and surging, massive balloons pepper the maidan, all manner of children’s toys and trinkets are laid out on the ground, and food stalls are doing a roaring trade. Overcome with all this busy-ness, we repair to the cool bar of the Taj, showing Ross the memorial to the terrorist attack on the way.
Cindy with her British High Commission deep throat in the Taj foyer
But what is this? Big excitement, Prince Charles is also in town and staying right here! Cindy bumps into a mate who’s on the consular staff and he tips us off to a photo opportunity in 20 minutes when HRH leaves the hotel…we are the only people here apart from security, but my photos unfortunately are not that good (the downside of only using an iPhone for this blog!).
Aha – here is HRH at last
This is as close as we get – but its pretty close although he dashes past us on the wrong side of the flower arrangement!
No visit is complete without scouring the Chor Bazaar. Our haul includes two heads: a 3-headed Vishnu from Karnataka, ‘600 years old’ – yeah right, Ifram; a serene Buddha from Uttar Pradesh and a lovely bronze bull, cast using the lost-wax technique.
Our new three-headed Vishnu
Cindy and her new billy goat friend
Stripping a car down to its component parts in Chor Bazaar
Sunday we become wannabee watchers at the Four Seasons brunch – the Veuve flows freely and we certainly get our money’s worth. Delicious assorted Asian cuisine too.
Cindy before we had several bottles of Veuve Cliquot…
The highlight of the trip is, undoubtedly, becoming Cindy’s teaching assistant for her weekly session at a charity in the red light district, providing a safe haven and educational stimulus to the daughters of prostitutes. We spend all morning preparing our two sets of activities, one for little ones 6-12; and the other, the over 13s. Cindy has come up with a basic mobile for the younger group, so we cut, colour, stick and decorate our prototypes; and a much more elaborate photo frame, made out of ice lolly sticks, for the older girls.
Doing our prep…
We arrive in the heart of the brothel area, passing several ladies getting ready for their evening. A woman will be kidnapped or trafficked, held in a half-way house, gang-raped and taught in her job until subservient, and then sold to a brothel in Mumbai, owned by a man but run by a former prostitute. For two years she will not be allowed out, but kept in a cage; later she gets some freedom, by which time she has nowhere to go.
Cindy getting down to work, kids looking on with rapt attention
The average age of a working girl in Mumbai is 14; she earns R20 (20p) per John and probably sees 20 a day. She has to pay for everything – bed, food, laundry, water, using the loo…not to mention her purchase fee, so she can never repay and be free. HIV is rife, as is glue sniffing and drug taking. Many have children: birth control would seem an obvious ‘investment’ for the owners of the girls, but it seems that unprotected sex, despite the unwanted results, adds a premium…Interesting that Ifram, the Chor Bazaar shop owner said, ‘You should tell those girls to have safe sex…all this disease is no good’. To which we replied: ‘But it’s the guys who want the unsafe sex….’. He just waggled his head in that very Indian way.
Concentration….
The charity is a tiny two-story room, filled with the sound of piping voices and girlish laughter. Namaste Teeecher! greets us as we arrive. Upstairs we squat on the floor in a room where you can’t even stand up, and the girls crowd around, eagerly grabbing the ‘ones we made earlier,’ while we try and explain what to do. English is rudimentary, but the gist is communicated through other helpers.
I never knew I could still cut and colour…
Cindy has warned me that all the glitter and sparkles will be in hot demand, and indeed it’s fascinating to see little strips of diamanté bobbles being secreted under toes! Nothing has prepared me for these delightful girls, all clean and brightly dressed, polite until their enthusiasm erupts into avaricious hoarding of crayons and sparkles – a little fight breaks out in one corner, scissors are banned so we have a lot of work to do!
Photo frames made by the older girls
But the overriding take-away is of enthusiasm and attention to detail: the concentration of the colouring in, the precision of choosing the sticker that’s just right, applying the flowers and glitter to the frames, all punctuated by the high-pitched screeching of Teeecher! Teeecher! to get our attention. Every finished item has to be admired and photographed, until honour and pride are satisfied.
Very proud little girl
As we leave we are accosted by a Nepalese prostitute, with a small Buddha-like baby, shaven-head with a big red bhindi. The Nepalese are at the bottom of the pecking order, and she is off her head: staggering about, exhorting us to take her baby, while smiling beatifically. It’s a sad reminder of the reality of the streets.
The red light area as we leave our teaching session
Taking photos is frowned on and mine are checked…this is in case the girls can be identified in the schools they attend. The stigma of their origins would put an end to any hopes of betterment. So the majority of the shots make it impossible to identify individual girls and I have kept the charity’s name secret. If anyone wants to donate or volunteer, contact me privately and I will put you in touch.
Chorty Billie almost too grown up to play with mice..
Master Dizzy Rascal Thomas, check those eyes….
So the four days pass quickly; Cindy’s street cat – you might remember her from the last blog – Chorty Billie (meaning little cat) has now become a sleek madam; she has been joined by another little chap, Dizzy ‘Rascal’ Thomas, who is equally naughty and has one blue and one green eye!
Mumbai remains an enigma of a city: so much poverty, but so much energy, activity and striving for betterment, even if only to survive the life on the streets. And humour. Where else can you drive past a street vendor twice in 15 minutes and have a conversation in sign language, explaining why you’re going round in circles? It’s a complete juxtaposition to Singapore and a reminder, as we watch the devastation of the Philippines (the island we dived on in August, Malapasqua has been devastated), that SE Asia is a continent of many cultures, faces and diversity.
Off to the mosque in Chor Bazaar
The Bell Temple in Bandra
Detail of the bells
Bell Temple
Posing kids, they simply love it!
Guy sitting it out at Ifram’s shop…
Old man feeding the goats
Denim/indigo dying shop
Goats will eat anything
Cindy feeding her dogs
Street people receiving a free meal courtesy of benefactors
The middle class take their Sunday morning exercise while the poor wash their clothes
trousers laid out to dry…what commercial business has its stuff washed in THIS water???
Cindy and Ross in the Bollywood Walk of Fame
Ross with a new mentor
Cutting into the biryani – its encased in pastry
unwrapping the perfect biryani
Chorty showing off
A fine cow takes to the centre of the road…
Madame la vache takes centre stage
Queuing up at the vet for DIzzy’s first jabs
we are queuing outside…
Roadside stall with lovely fresh veg – until we saw a dog pee on them!
TEEEECHER!!!
Colouring in…
Master Dizzy nThomas
Ross, Cindy and Guy at Bombay Gateway
A rat in Chor Bazaar – alive! we saw loads of dead ones too
Little and large
The older girls concentrating on their picture frames
In this post we welcome old friends to stay in our new apartment and celebrate my birthday…
After almost 9 months here on and off, we feel we can show people round, and at least know where to go to eat! Ross was away in Basel for the first few days, so we enjoyed the vibrancy of the Naitonal Orchid Garden in sunshine; followed by a delicious lunch in the nearby restaurant, only to be interrupted by massive thunderstorm. Poor old Mr and Mrs B had forgotten their umbrellas so got very wet indeed!
Mr and Mrs B enjoying the Orchid Garden
Mrs B and Mrs C trying to merge with the flora…
Dodging showers and trying to find taxis seemed to be the biggest challenges of this visit; nevertheless we areyet again stunned by the Gardens on the Bay; lunch in one of the Supertrees affords a sumptuous view. Not as good as the viewing platform at Marina Bay Sands which had to be done despite black clouds all around.
on the walkway between the Supertrees
Economics grads posing for a team photo
Chinatown is also a must-see in SIngapore, poking round the tat stalls nevertheless affords good bargains while, at the higher end, the intricacies of a specialist tea shop delight. Here Clare bought a dead ringer for the Hare with the Amber Eyes teapot…My more prosaic larger elephant teapot is perfect for more than two people! Thanks Clare!
These are Chinese zodiac teapots
My birthday teapot!
It has to be done, that famous Singapore Sling. So off to Raffles with some of Mr B’s visiting friends – far too sweet for me and, I gather, all pre-made so a bit of a production line. But the Long Bar is a fun place, even if rather full or tourists, like us! Afterwards to a real find, specialist Peranakan/Straits Malay restaurant, Blue Ginger, where we let the waiter do the ordering and we eat greedily and with gusto.
The girls enjoying the Slings
Clare and me in the ancient hallway of Raffles
Yummy crab
Mr and Mrs B tucking in…
And so the the birthday: preceding night dinner we feast on chilli crab at Jumbo Seafoods in Boat Quay; then Sunday lunch at one of our favourites, Din Tai Fung, the Taiwanese dumpling house (not as good as the original one in Taipei, but still yummy); and then 20 or so new-found friends, plus one or two older ones from university days, for drinks. As it was Diwali, I ordered samosas, bhajis and pakoras, promptly delivered by Omar Shariff (I wish it was really he, that would have been the best birthday present ever!), and Mr and Mrs B made a few blinis, while Lucie G brought a delicious cake! (see picture up top)
But not all play, dear readers: Mr B had lots of meetings and went out clad in a suit, much to our amusement; while Mrs B, aka Clare Cooper of Art First, and I had a Board meeting and strategy summit on my sofa while I rested my leg on a hot water bottle.
Mr and Mrs B posing in front of the canapes they expertly assembled!
Don’t laugh, you hear me right – I have a large haemotoma on my calf which means I can’t walk or stand for long. A challenge for Monday’s induction meeting at the Tanglin Club which involved a lot of standing about…and even more of a challenge for next weekend’s visit to Mumbai, for our diving in Sulawesi the following week…and the ski season. Painful physio and ultrasound on the menu to try and get my leg back…
I will keep you updated!
lovely orchids en masse
Little India prepares for Diwali
Underneath the yellow orchid bower…
Cleaning my copper tray with tamarind. Result!. #domesticgoddess
Sublime cod at Blue Ginger
Outside the Hindu temple on Diwali
Auspicious Diwali patterns in yoghurt
Yum Cha dumplings…
In the Cloud Forest dome
DOt know what this is but its gorgeous!
Celadon tea-ware
Marina Bay Sands in background
Fly-eating plants in the Cloud Forest
A happy Family poses in the Cloud Forest
A bunch of kids atop Marina Bay Sands
The domestic goddess/hostess with the mostest surveys her Diwali feast…
vickygoestravelling 