Sunday, 27 June 2010
Saturday, 26 June 2010
More pictures....
Ok, so the blog system is officially driving me mad by altering the layout of the pictures and the oversizing them outside of the borders even on the smallest setting, together with there appearing to be no way to make the posts run chronologically from earliest to latest. That compounded with my basic lack of Spanish, which the wonderful world of the internet is using as it´s main language, means for now, this will have to be as it is. Perhaps with a small hammer I could get it to do as i´d like, although i´m not convinced the internet cafe would be too pleased......
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
21st June 2010
So this is where it all begins. I'm not convinced about this idea of blogging (what sort of word is that anyway, it's not four letters away from flogging, and just the one to clogging, which is perhaps more apt) but since it appears to be the best way to keep everyone up to date and to provide a single point to allow anyone to contact me, blogging, it appears, is the way....
I guess I should explain why stewed plums and custard. If I am honest, the following is something I wish I had the wherewithall to say at Mums funeral, but the more I looked at what I had written, the more I choked, and the more I couldn't find a way to tell the story.
There are those of you who will have heard this story from Mum herself. It was one she loved to tell, and one I heard her recount many times over those final weeks. It was something that made her smile, and truth be known, between us we used the "what food shall we try today" game as a way of making light of what I know was nothing short of truly horrific for Mum to go through. How the treatment and various medications took away taste and replaced it with what Mum described as like chewing metal. How certains food types would instantly make themselves known as a no. Yet it was Mums want for life, her continual trying, that allowed us to laugh over the food testing sessions that would lead to me teasing her that the cancer treatment really should have a side effect on the list known as "pregnancy esque food cravings maybe experienced". The fridge and cupboards became havens for jelly, fizzy drinks, non fizzy drinks, yoghurts, fruit, liquorice, cream, milk, water, pasta, beans, fresh vegetables, canned vergetables, soup. Anything that could be tried to enable Mum to be able to eat, be able to taste, and most importantly, be able to keep down.
I'm not going to make any excuses for this. The truth of Mums cancer was a constant battle between keeping the pain behind a wall of medication, and finding ways to help reduce the constant need to vomit.Cancer knows no boundaries, it has no idea of dignity, no respect for life, no care for wishes, dreams, hopes, and shows courage a never ceasing attack of spite.It was Mums never ending endurance and attempts to fight back that made and makes me so very proud of her.
It was around 1am, I was about to make myself a cup of tea, something Mum would dearly of loved herself, which I felt guilty of each time I switched the kettle on. Mum tried daily, but to no avail since she told me that it was like drinking copper, copper masked with sugar. I asked whether there was anything I could get for her, and whilst the kettle was boiling, out came the request "could I have stewed plums and custard?". To this day I still don't know where the request came from. Maybe a memory from Mums youth, maybe an ad between the true movies that I used to tease her so for watching. Wherever it came from, it was something new to try. By chance, plums were something i'd picked up a few days prior, and so after a quick search on the internet, the plums were gently stewing in the sugary syrup, some custard whipped up and we were on our way to try something new.
That early morning is a memory I cherish. I sat beside Mum on her bed as she ate, and ate, and ate. No instant repurcussions, no sudden feeling of being full, just a warm glow from her smile as she enjoyed every mouthful until the bowl was empty and the request for a little more. We laughed at the ridiculousness of stewed plums and custard at was what now verging on 2am, we joked, we talked, and the word cancer was for those precious hours never even a thought that used to so often flicker behind Mums face as she said she was ok. There was no hunting on the net for clues, possibles, tips, maybes, hints from other sufferers of renal cell carcinoma, no mention of the question so oftern asked "Am I dieing?". That early morning we stuck two proverbial fingers up to cancer and life was normal once more. Talk of Mums wish to return to Turkey, the route we would take, how I would show her Italy, how every six weeks would be an adventure. Her eyes were alight and her smile so very bright.
And that is why stewedplumsandcustard. A simple thing. The simple were the things that Mum treasured the most. Simple things and gestures which brought Mum so much pleasure.
Stewedplumsandcustard because this is my two fingers to cancer. It may have taken Mum in body, but it will never take her spirit, and it will never stop her from making her journey.
So this is where it all begins. I'm not convinced about this idea of blogging (what sort of word is that anyway, it's not four letters away from flogging, and just the one to clogging, which is perhaps more apt) but since it appears to be the best way to keep everyone up to date and to provide a single point to allow anyone to contact me, blogging, it appears, is the way....
I guess I should explain why stewed plums and custard. If I am honest, the following is something I wish I had the wherewithall to say at Mums funeral, but the more I looked at what I had written, the more I choked, and the more I couldn't find a way to tell the story.
There are those of you who will have heard this story from Mum herself. It was one she loved to tell, and one I heard her recount many times over those final weeks. It was something that made her smile, and truth be known, between us we used the "what food shall we try today" game as a way of making light of what I know was nothing short of truly horrific for Mum to go through. How the treatment and various medications took away taste and replaced it with what Mum described as like chewing metal. How certains food types would instantly make themselves known as a no. Yet it was Mums want for life, her continual trying, that allowed us to laugh over the food testing sessions that would lead to me teasing her that the cancer treatment really should have a side effect on the list known as "pregnancy esque food cravings maybe experienced". The fridge and cupboards became havens for jelly, fizzy drinks, non fizzy drinks, yoghurts, fruit, liquorice, cream, milk, water, pasta, beans, fresh vegetables, canned vergetables, soup. Anything that could be tried to enable Mum to be able to eat, be able to taste, and most importantly, be able to keep down.
I'm not going to make any excuses for this. The truth of Mums cancer was a constant battle between keeping the pain behind a wall of medication, and finding ways to help reduce the constant need to vomit.Cancer knows no boundaries, it has no idea of dignity, no respect for life, no care for wishes, dreams, hopes, and shows courage a never ceasing attack of spite.It was Mums never ending endurance and attempts to fight back that made and makes me so very proud of her.
It was around 1am, I was about to make myself a cup of tea, something Mum would dearly of loved herself, which I felt guilty of each time I switched the kettle on. Mum tried daily, but to no avail since she told me that it was like drinking copper, copper masked with sugar. I asked whether there was anything I could get for her, and whilst the kettle was boiling, out came the request "could I have stewed plums and custard?". To this day I still don't know where the request came from. Maybe a memory from Mums youth, maybe an ad between the true movies that I used to tease her so for watching. Wherever it came from, it was something new to try. By chance, plums were something i'd picked up a few days prior, and so after a quick search on the internet, the plums were gently stewing in the sugary syrup, some custard whipped up and we were on our way to try something new.
That early morning is a memory I cherish. I sat beside Mum on her bed as she ate, and ate, and ate. No instant repurcussions, no sudden feeling of being full, just a warm glow from her smile as she enjoyed every mouthful until the bowl was empty and the request for a little more. We laughed at the ridiculousness of stewed plums and custard at was what now verging on 2am, we joked, we talked, and the word cancer was for those precious hours never even a thought that used to so often flicker behind Mums face as she said she was ok. There was no hunting on the net for clues, possibles, tips, maybes, hints from other sufferers of renal cell carcinoma, no mention of the question so oftern asked "Am I dieing?". That early morning we stuck two proverbial fingers up to cancer and life was normal once more. Talk of Mums wish to return to Turkey, the route we would take, how I would show her Italy, how every six weeks would be an adventure. Her eyes were alight and her smile so very bright.
And that is why stewedplumsandcustard. A simple thing. The simple were the things that Mum treasured the most. Simple things and gestures which brought Mum so much pleasure.
Stewedplumsandcustard because this is my two fingers to cancer. It may have taken Mum in body, but it will never take her spirit, and it will never stop her from making her journey.
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