I’ve become one of those weird people who photographs the sky.
There’s little more annoying than someone who spontaneously stops in the middle of a busy street and photographs nothing, right?
I have, until recently, filed these people in the category of bad New Yorkers. Because there is nothing that screams tourist more than someone clogging the footpath and taking lame photos. Nothing. And no-one is less tolerant of a lame-o than a New Yorker.
I seem to look up more at the moment.
I keep getting struck by how amazing everything is. Sun is astounding. Rain is remarkable. Clouds are like nature’s emotions. And they’re all playing out right above our heads.
Find a metaphor in it if you’d like. For now I’m happy just photographing skies.
So, it’s Straya Day. (That’s Australia Day to those not familiar with the Aussie Bogan Dialect).
Straya Day for me as a child was a sorrowful day. Not because it was the day that our fair land was cruelly torn from the hands of the Aborigines by the British invaders (although that would’ve been a bigger minded reason) but because it marked the end of a long and wonderful summer holiday and the return to a school year that seemed to stretch into eternity.
So it’s strange that now, many years on, I’m feeling pretty much the same way. On Tuesday I return to work after an almost five month hiatus. And I feel quite a bit like the kid returning to school.
My head feels delightfully empty of knowledge, facts and practicalities. I wonder… Will the other kids remember me? Will they even recognise me with my post cancer fuzz? I dread the sound of my alarm in the morning. Don’t make me march to your rhythmic beat!
But I’m excited, too. To get back in the thick of things and to see if I will find the old me sitting at my desk awaiting my return.
So, farewell, summer break, and here are a few photos to remember you by.
This last one has been a long time coming. It’s not from this summer, but it’s the rainbow I claimed for myself. Remember, right back in my very first post?
Happy Straya Day, y’all!
Ah, computer chaos. I’m sorry if any of you recently received an annoying email directing you to a post that didn’t exist, or was just an image… Technology is not always my friend, it seems…
Anyway, it’s been a while, and in this case, no news has been good news! My excuse is that I suddenly realised some time around New Year’s that it was summer (I know… right?) and that the weather was fine, and I was fine too!
For the last six months I’ve been taking what the nurses sweetly call bird baths. Basically, I sit in the bathtub with the water up to my equator (I figure that my equator is around about my belly button) and I sort of splash around awkwardly trying to get clean while keeping the dressings on my chest dry. And there have been so many dressings on my chest.
Dressings after dressings after dressings. Dressings that not only are not waterproof, but that actually tell on me when I get them wet, so that I am guaranteed a talking to by my community nurse on her next visit. Naughty naughty.
I can definitively state that I am one of those people who wants whatever they can’t have. And what I’ve been wanting more than anything these past few months (other than hair!) is to get fully submerged in water. Getting wet above the equator. Yep, that’s been the dream!
And the weather has been simply lovely (45 degree days aside), and so I’ve been taking Saskia to the beach to teach her to swim every few days and just kind of sadly dunking my feet in, and trying to keep the bag holding the IV drugs dry while half drowning the pup (who seems to be getting the hang of it).
So you can imagine my surprise and delight when I was released from both 24/7 IV drugs and dressings on my wound all on the same day!!!
The very next morning I raced for the beach and got as submerged as I could possibly get, and stayed submerged for as long as I could before I was in danger of being rewarded with a melanoma to keep my breast cancer company.
Oh, it was bliss.
If you really want to appreciate how wonderful life is, get cancer. Think hard about the possibility of dying young. Feel like hell through three months of chemo. Lose your breasts and your self esteem. Get bald and sad and housebound. Feel ugly, washed up, useless, and then quietly mend a little. Step in to the sunshine with your fake boobs on, and a little bit of fuzz atop your head, and BAM. Feel the happiest you’ve ever felt.
I am enjoying everything right now. I’m drinking coffee again! Coffee!!! LOVE coffee!!!
I’m drinking wine again! (Yep, LOVE wine!).
Food tastes amazing, too amazing. Dangerously amazing.
People tell me the fine fuzz on my head looks A-OK too. And it feels lovely, like a baby bird.
So that’s why I haven’t been blogging. Because I’ve been out there making up for the six months that wasn’t.
I’ve walked a lot. Read a lot. Started cooking again. I even stitched some cushions.
Boring… says Saskia. I guess I’ll dig up your garden while you’re waxing lyrical about how great everything is.
It’s been grand, really it has.
I guess that now I need to think about getting back to work. Real life beckons.
But maybe one or two sneaky beach trips first, hey?
Happy summer to you, all you good people below the equator. Enjoy every minute of it. And for those of you above the equator, make a snowman for me?
Fuzzy headed love to you all…