Here I am with my boys on top of the world! Skiing in super-Chatel for three hours today, not much snow but enough, and sunshine!
Tag Archives: Champery
Contemplating the next 5 years of living with cancer
Detail from the Temple of Heaven complex in Beijing
It’s been over a week since the All Clear. After so much anxiety in the build up to the scans, its hard not feel the come down from the high in the following days. People say ‘You must be so happy that it’s over’ and I feel very curmudgeonly saying, ‘I am thrilled, of course, but it’s now only four and half years until I can say I’m in remission’. Continue reading
Of mountains, meditation, yoga, writing…and waiting
Carpets of wild flowers
The waiting is the worst. As the time for the scan draws nearer, the complete ‘otherness’ of Champery and the Swiss mountain air is appealing. Ross comes up for the weekend but otherwise I am largely left to my own devices, to meditate, do yoga, work on the book, garden and read. Continue reading
Battling with the NHS as I hit a health hurdle
The beautiful rose Felcity Kendal gave us in Louise’s memory
Went to get an HRT prescription last week, and thought it worth mentioning to the Doc that I was feeling exhausted, and a bit dizzy plus I am losing weight (a kg fell off since I returned from China, now 53 kgs). She took some blood tests to rule out a number of things including under-active thyroid, mycoplasma (a form of pneumonia prevalent in Singapore) and Vitamin B 12 deficiency.
Easter in Switzerland: happy and sad times
Dents du Midi in afternoon sunshine
Easter week in Switzerland is drawing to a close. Tommy and his two friends – all Thomases too – depart today, and we tomorrow. Continue reading
In which we greet the New Year with some good and bad news…but lots of hope!
Ross ski touring with Tommy, Dents du Mid in the background
New Year’s Day
I greet 2014 with renewed hope and vigour! 2013 played a very curved ball in injury time as up until November it had been a great year for us with the move to Singapore and all the travelling to exotic oriental places.
Only a few days left of mountain magic and then back to London, histology results and radiotherapy. Wah! And Ross departs for Singapore so I will throw myself on the mercy of all my dear friends to accompany me to physio and radio. A roster has been suggested. Volunteers please!
On the plus side the wound looks good. New Year’s eve saw me tackling the cable car and lunch at the restaurant panoramique at the top with the Mitchell family; not only great to see them but to get two consultations for the price of one: David is one of Britain’s top vascular surgeons and knows the Prof, while Anne is a GP, so lots of comfort about how the pain will be bad, it’s normal, and then healing will take up to two months. A peek at my leg in full view of the sunbathing crowds causes some raised eyebrows!
With Ann and David Mitchell at the Croix de Culet
However, this little expedition knocked me out and I had to retire to bed for a couple of hours; so exhausted that was fearful that I would not see in the New Year, which kicked off with apero for 25 or so chez nous…champagne and canapés, foie gras and sauternes, all brought by friends – Fenwicks, Poolers, Serikoffs, Huguette et al. My brother and his girlfriend who is having a little boy in May, are also here, and it has been wonderful getting to know Melanie and see how happy they are. New life for a new year.
Sasha flanked by Melanie and me on NYE
We tottered up to cousin Christine’s for main course: Diego and Diane have prepared hams, and Tommy and Olivia have made sweetcorn and courgette gratins, all delicious. It is a beautiful clear night and we stream out on to the balcony on the chimes of midnight as the sky explodes in a flurry of brilliant fireworks, which illuminate the Dents and rain down green, purple and red over the village. The beacons atop the peaks are lit and dominate the skyline as red dots. The sky is full of lanterns bobbing upwards.
Tommy with Christine and Katie Pooler
The Youngies: Charly, Olivia, Tom and Katie
Then Ross, Tommy and Tom Pooler light our own Chinese lanterns, which soar up, up and away in an orange glow to meet Louise whose spirit is with us this night, in the mountain air and in the effervescent glow that lights up the sky. The stars twinkle down on us as we stand, me in my bare feet (kills the pain I say when told I’m mad), and exchange New Year hugs, kisses and warm embraces of dear friends willing this to be the year that I regain my health. If the power of positive thinking and vibes could cure cancer then I would be clear! So much love is humbling and I thank you, all my friends, for it and the support over the past couple of months and for those yet to come.
One of our lanterns winging its way to join Louise
I am sorry that the last blog sounded so bleak, but writing is part of my therapy, and like an exorcism…once captured in black and white the negativity is out of my system, leaving room for happier thoughts.
Let’s hope that 2014 is a year of health and healing for all of us, filled with the love of friends and family.
Mitchells, Fenwicks, Cattell boys, Olivia & George Stoy…Dents…NY Eve
6 January – Histology Day
Finally the dreaded day arrives, and Dr Fi and I assemble to see the Prof. The past few weeks have been rather unnerving, not quite knowing, yet fearing, today’s meeting.
Dr Fi is in fine form: the Prof has been busy writing for the Daily Mail on why he believes the NHS should stop training women doctors (they go part-time and it results in fewer doctors etc etc). Red rag to a bull, but she promises to zip up as the meeting is about me…
The good news is that the Prof got the clearance, as in margin, on the tumours, ie better than he expected. However, he confirms what both Fi and I already suspected, that it is a stage 3 and – here he brings his chair round the table and sits next to me, boy this IS serious – they found the tumour within a ‘large vein’.
Gently he explains this means it may have already travelled as tumour cells migrate via the blood. However, there is no point in doing anything until a scan in April as new sites will not show up until the cells have grown enough to be visible. As Dr Khong said, the cells are so microscopic at this stage, they are impossible to identify. So it is going to be a long haul. But I think I knew all of this even if I didn’t share the anxiety, so I don’t feel shocked, weak at the knees or nauseated. Just resigned and even more determined to live life to the full. As Prof says, we just have to hope that I will be lucky.
On the other hand, I am hugely cheered by his admiration of my mobility. Him: ‘You can start going up stairs properly now.’
Me: ‘I’ve been doing that for 2 weeks already.’ I am doing far better than he expected. But he gives me a stern talk on being too ambitious as a fall downstairs (which I can’t manage yet, one foot after the other) would be dangerous.
Him: ‘Have we finished the medical bit now?’ Cue for media discussion; we always end our sessions talking about journalism.
Me: ‘Yes.’
Him: ‘ Did you see I had two articles in the Mail last week?’
Me: ‘No – these are the ones on female doctors I assume. I bet you’ve had some interesting feedback. I’ll read them and give you mine if you like, but I am a feminist you know!’
He gets all excited and writes out how to find them online; he slides the paper towards me, then deftly removes the duplicate and gives it to Fi: ‘Would you like to read it too?’
Fi: ‘No thanks. I promised Vicky I wouldn’t say anything as I am here in friend, not doctor, capacity, but I have read them and I disagree completely.’ There follows a lively exchange of views, friendly yet feisty as only Fi can be… Finally he asks Fi, ‘Do you know Penny? (another of the monstrous regiment of fierce women…and a good mutual friend of all of ours). This confirms that the Prof likes women like us, despite what he writes. He wants to keep me on as his patient: ‘I keep the ones I like’.
And now home, cat on knee, contemplating the long road ahead of living with cancer. Next stop: radiotherapy, first appointment Friday.
Dear friend Hilary and I on NYE
In which my leg improves slowly but sorely
Champery is as pretty as a picture in the snow!
Woke on Christmas morning to the sound of torrential rain! Not what the doctor ordered in a ski resort…
I had spent the majority of xmas eve chopping veg, preparing stuffing, making the cabbage, prepping the bread and apple sauces, and balefully eyeing our rather small goose. The boys go off skiing and narrowly avoid getting stuck on the French side – brings back memories of that terrible day I was waiting for Louise on her third attempt to leave London [her last xmas, 2010] and they got stuck in France and were not there to calm my nerves…had I known what a narrow squeak Tommy had getting here this year, with the English storms raging, I think I would have been beside myself. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
Spent a very nice xmas eve chez cousins Christine, Diego and their boys, oysters and empanadas, their Chilean tradition. We did a rather fun Stealing Santa where you can steal someone else’s secret Santa when it is your turn! Tempers got rather frayed at one point…
Tommy on xmas day
Christmas morning itself is always a big reminder of Louise’s absence: she adored opening her stocking at the end of our bed, just as I adored finding silly things for her. The best present in 2010 was the burka I got in Oman, which she wore at lunch in France, just after they had been banned. We were doubled up with laughter at lunch and, later, when she skied down the mountain wearing it!
Louise in her burka on xmas day
Tommy is just as big a child and he is thrilled with the contents of his stocking. As ever we gather on our bed and open our stockings in turn. I had some lovely extravagant gifts, Jo Malone, Molton Brown, edibles – felt very spoiled. All the smellies a girl could wish for and perfect for the pampering phase of my life.
The master chef!
After lunch – there was plenty of everything, even the goose – with Tommy playing sous chef to shouted instructions from the sofa, charades were called for and I remembered we had a box game. When I opened it I discovered scoring sheets in Louise’s handwriting, evidence of past fun. The shock of seeing her childish, teenage scrawl brought her absence into a palpable reality and my mood never really recovered.
Ross and me exhausted by xmas; the charade box is in the foreground
In fact I had spent most of the day feeling queasy – a mixture of grieving and reaction to drugs – and so much food and drink make me feel worse, an unusual situation for me. On top of which my leg is hurting like crazy. In the end I leave the merriment and go to bed, but cannot sleep. Feel very anxious and vulnerable; the unspoken thought which I had been trying to banish all day now creeps into my head: is this my last Christmas? I wonder if others are thinking this as well; I try to gauge the meaning of those kind words and looks.
xmas lunch with brother Sasha, George and Beth, Hannah and Charlie
I have been trying not to think morbidly but what with my leg swollen and throbbing, it is hard not to imagine the worst. And all this terrible tiredness; and no matter how much I eat, I am still getting thinner… Is it just the price of healing or something more sinister? Only time will tell…
* * *
Wake up at 5 am on Boxing Day to the sound of the snow plough. The rain has turned to snow and there is at least 4-6 inches outside, and it is still snowing. Good news for the skiers and I can thus spend the day in bed writing and reading with my leg up. Which is now back to normal, thank goodness. They always say things are better in the morning.
Tommy enjoying the powder on boxing day
I am pleasantly surprised that I do not feel envy as they kit up to go skiing, even on a gorgeous day with deep powder in the offing. Instead I feel a great sense of relief that I can snuggle up at home with a good book (The Luminaries), a jigsaw and Radio 4 for company. It makes me realise how much energy it takes to heal my wounds, both mental and physical. At least six weeks…
My latest worry is whether my leg will be healed enough to start the radiotherapy in January. Despite the sudden improvement in walking – I can now flex my foot with each step rather than advance with a fixed, stiff knee joint – the pain comes winging back, a dull ache combined with a terrible tenderness where my calf used to be. I suppose this is how an amputee feels. But it’s difficult to rest the back of my leg on anything as it is so sore. And by the end of the day, my lower leg is tight and throbbing despite being elevated most of the time.
I took the dressing off yesterday, and Ross removed and replaced some of the steri-strips. Pleased to see the bruising has gone down a lot and the wound is looking good. So good I am showing it to you!
the much improved leg!
Last tummy jab administered yesterday too, thank God. Stomach a patchwork of blue, yellow and grey bruises with long lumps marking the needles’ length! Think this is a reflection not so much of my lack of skill but my loss of tummy fat, resulting in the injections going into the muscle rather than subcutaneous fat. Wah! Only wearing the DVT stocking at night now.
Another week of rest before coming back, so I am hoping that these small improvements will gain pace. Meanwhile, fret not, I love being on my own; the day is punctuated with visitors, the evenings alternate with meals in and out, Tommy’s girlfriend Olivia has arrived and the family feels complete again.
Louise, xmas 2010
in which we finally arrive in Champéry for Christmas
The Dents du Midi on the day we arrive – glorious!
We made it! Here I am with my boys in the mountains, getting ready for Christmas: the goose is collected, we smuggled the chipolatas and bacon through customs, the champagne is chilling, presents wrapped and last-minute instructions for shopping issued! It’s Christmas Eve and Ross and Tommy are off skiing while I am left to some retrospective musings.
The first one is of a practical nature: even if the weather is gorgeous, the snow is terrible so I don’t feel I am missing out. I had been dreading the feeling of unadulterated jealousy, listening to tales of knee-high powder and virgin slopes, instead it’s a litany of overcrowded, muddy pistes and closed runs. Sigh of relief!
This is always a very sad time for our trio: the last Christmas we spent with Louise was here in Champéry, and the memories are still so vivid: the tension and heartache when she nearly didn’t make it due to the British weather – it took four days, three cancelled planes and a £65 taxi before I scooped her up from Aigle station, her presents and possessions spilling out of broken bags (so Louise!); her garish New Look jumper; the delicious goose; the fairy-tale weather; the company of good friends – in other words, a perfect family Christmas.
Louise in her New Look jumper on Christmas Day 2010
Being on crutches up here evokes the time when I broke my hip three and a half years ago. Despite all the obvious downsides to such an injury (nine weeks no weight bearing followed by a further 12 on crutches), it also brought Louise and I very close. She came to look after me in Geneva while Ross was away and we had a riotous time with her wheeling me round the park and to restaurants, she so little she could barely control the chair! We then went to Barbados together for a fabulous 10 days recuperation with friends Heather and JP in their beachfront villa, and we had a very bonding and girly time sharing a room, fuelled by fine dining and drinking. I feel so privileged to have these memories. And now Tommy is manfully filling this gap by looking after me, both here and in London, in a similar fashion. It is very special.
Putting on the Ritz in Barbados, summer 2010. I wear Louise’s necklace every day
My lovely GP happily prescribed the forgotten painkillers – don’t know how I’d do without them…tramadol, paracetamol and anti-inflammatories. The pain is constant and aching.
My not-so-lovely leg post clip removal
I had a pedicure to cheer me up! After all my feet are on constant display!
The rest of my clips were painlessly removed by one of my nurses. She took a photo of the wound – not for the squeamish. It has been bleeding a bit behind the knee and it is quite bruised there. But everyday it feels a little better, though I foolishly keep forgetting to ask how long the pain will go on…perhaps not so dumb as it might only add to the vague air of anticlimactic depression that has descended. I apologise to you all, but I’m afraid it is not possible to be superwoman all the time.
A kind friend sent me a link to a book about cancer, obviously meant to give hope. However it only served to send me into deep angst about secondaries. Not knowing the histology yet (I know I said I was going to forget this for two weeks, but…) and the mitotic rate of the various tumour cells that were found, there is this faint niggle which can only be assuaged by quarterly scans for two years, and then six-monthly ones for a further three years. So it’s a long haul. I guess my status remains ‘living with cancer’.
But today I must make the bread and apple sauces, the red cabbage and do my physio. Tonight we will feast on empanadas and oysters with cousins Christine and Diego and tomorrow morning we will open our stockings, have a light but jolly lunch with friends, before tackling the goose with my brother Sasha and more friends. Tommy is donning the head chef cap.
I will enjoy this Christmas and be thankful for being with loving family and friends: three years ago it was Louise’s last, how could we have known?
Pickle enjoying the Simon’s Cat video xmas card
So Bonne Fête as we say here! I will raise a glass of Christmas bubbly to you all and those less fortunate than ourselves. I will especially be thinking of my friend Brigid, who is trapped in Juba having evacuated her team from Bor, the heartland of Sudan’s civil war. Just a week before this she had told me how much she was enjoying her work there…see how life is constantly balanced on a knife-edge.
Carpe diem!
in which I go home
Here I am at home with my little friend Pickle, who has not left my side.
I am walking well, can manage stairs, but have to rest/elevate the leg until staples come out Thursday week. We are planning on leaving for Champery on Sunday 22 and staying through the New Year. Radiotherapy will begin mid Jan.
For those who keep asking me about what I will do about the hole in my leg, I cannot even contemplate anyone cutting my leg open again. If there is no therapeutic gain then cosmetic pain is a waste of time. I wouldn’t cut my face open for the same reason.
Ready for visitors and may need help next week with getting to/from physio as Ross is going to Beijing Mon -Thursday. Volunteers? It’s only round the corner in Heath Hurst Road.
Thank you so far for the visits and the thoughtful gifts. I have a nice leg cushion,courtesy Marion, a magenta cashmere blanket (Tommy), which I can tuck up under and lots of reading materials, flowers and tempting morsels. The chicken soup is arriving on Thursday, thank you Judy in advance! Under my pillow I find my worry family, which is a comfort.
I am feeling very upbeat, just in case you are wondering! As far as I am concerned the tumour is excised and with it any future issues. Of course I will have to have quarterly scans to check the other soft tissues for hot spots; after two years the stats say I am 50% clear, and after five, 100%. But I don’t think like that. Now all that matters is for the leg to heal and for me to get on skis again. Not this Christmas, I hasten to add, but certainly next year. And those trips to Mana in July and Raja Ampat in October look very tenable. Carpe diem!
my Mayan worry family, given to me by Olivia; anxieties are transferred to them while I sleep
in which we enjoy the mountain air
The glorious Dents du Midi early morning from our apartment
This week finds us in Champery to brief our Swiss team for our up-coming trip to Zimbabwe and Kenya. Like the rest of Europe Switzerland has been basking in warm sunshine and the mountains are heavenly – clear blue skies, a hint of morning chill in the air, and a heavy due on the grass. Our tubs have survived the summer and the geraniums and petunias are a blaze of red, pink and purple.
self in walking gear
This goat liked posing!
Saturday finds us venturing into a new area for walking: we drive over to Les Mosses on the other side of the Rhone, near Leysin and Les Diablerets, and choose a steep path which takes us up a steep path for 600m, levelling out at 2000m before dropping down again to the lake and lunch.
The farmhouse
Just before we find the path we come across a traditional farmhouse where a smoking chimney in high summer indicates they are making cheese. Inside the barn nothing has changed for centuries as the friendly farmer boils up his milk in a huge brass cauldron and turns his large alpage. We buy some; it is delicious, fresh, salty and tangy.
This is how you make cheese the traditional way
M le fromage
The views are stunning, and we are surprised to find a herd of Llamas on the trail, my curious admirer a gorgeous chestnut colour with eyelashes to die for.
Fields of wild flowers up at 2000m
All that remains is for the Sunday BBQ on our little garden terrace to brief the team; another gorgeous day, beef satays to show off my Singapore skills and jerk chicken.
The Swiss team of Christine, Diego, Annie, Tim, Nick Diane, Jean, Catherine and Michael debate the merits of malaria prophylaxis over many glasses of the finest reds and we animatedly anticipate our close encounters with elephants and lions in just over two weeks time.
Roll on Mana Pools! The next blog will relate our adventures but won’t be for at least 2-3 weeks as internet will be hard to find!
Briefing for Africa BBQ – home made satay and jerk chicken
vickygoestravelling 