Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Word Association – Broken

word association
Broken – Arj

 

Once again I look for a word prompt from wordpress for inspiration.  The word Broken catches my eye.

Word Association is a game that is played ‘just for kicks’ at most school or even work team building outings.  On the surface it comes across as a very innocent game.  But if you were a savvy psychologist you would seriously analyse the answers from each individual.

Let’s take the word Broken.  Many words could follow that.

Broken – heart.  depends on the speed of the answer.  Quite possible the person is  a                                         recent single .

Broken – down   He/she isn’t driving a brand new car

Broken – Leg       Very possible this answer could be from my eldest after one his ski trips

Now I will give you my answer,

When I heard the word Broken the first thing that came up in my head was ‘Arj’.  I am almost certain that would have been the same for my husband and even my eldest.

Broken – Arj  –  Makes a lot of sense in our family.  Although family member ‘Arj’ would vehemently deny that statement.

Arj is my youngest who was born with too much oomph.  He came out with a mighty hurry and with a lot of gusto.  Even after twenty one years there is no sign of the brakes being applied.  Over the years he has gathered more muscle and strength.  Which doesn’t help our course nor the items in our household.

The unbreakable ‘Tonka Truck’ was no match for this kid.  Yes that was broken too.

 tonka

So you can imagine the condition of the rest of his toys.  Many number of toys came from  my nephew who was a few years older than my boys.  It would come in pristine condition.  Hari is not as gentle as my nephew but the toys would still have a lot life in them when they get to Arj.  With Arj they meet their demise pretty soon.

Gentle touch and patience are two words you will never associate with Arj.  When he closes a door (any door) the whole house shudders.  He walks as if he is in the Army barracks and being ordered to march.

Two recent incidents:

Arj travels to Sydney to catch up with his brother and head off for skiing.  Hari picks him up from the airport and they head off straight to the slopes.  Its a good 5 – 6 hr drive when you don’t include traffic.  After 2-3 days of skiing they head back to Sydney.  Not sure if they planned to leave late or boys being boys, they leave the ski lodge late.  Hari takes on the wheels again.  They get home late.  Hari was really tired and wanted a long hot shower.  So he asked Arj to have a shower first, so that he could have a nice relaxed long shower after.  (Hari and I are mindful of the environment, but not when we are having a shower).  By the way this was a brand new apartment.  Building was completed only a couple of months ago and Hari had moved in a month ago.  Arj switches on the light in the bathroom.

Total blackout.

Well as per Arj he just touched the switch.  Hari found the switch completely sunken into the wall.  It had fused the whole thing.  Yes, Arj claims it wasn’t his fault, it must have been cheep workmanship according to him.  How Hari managed to live there for a whole month without coming across this poorly crafted light switch is really remarkable.

The Second incident that comes to mind is the refrigerator  door handle.  It was a regular weekend in our household.  Washing machine, Dryer and vacuum cleaner were getting a work out.  Arj was going to feed the turtles and then the two of us were going to wash the dog.  The turtles have frozen meals and this is kept in our spare refrigerator in the laundry.

Snap! crash! what ever other sound a refrigerator door handle makes when breaking.

Again Arj gently touched the door handle to gently open it.  It was probably a very poorly made refrigerator.  Arj was left to hold part of the door handle that was now very securely in his palm.

I have had the pleasure of living past the golden jubilee.  In this life time I have heard of broken heart, broken leg and broken down. I have heard of broken switch as well.  But never in this fashion.  I have NEVER heard of  a broken refrigerator door handle.

We all agree with such gentle touch of Arj, it really cannot be his fault that so many things crumble at the sight of him.  We as a family must strive to buy and build better things.

 

Broken https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/broken/

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Posted in India, Sri Lanka, travel, True Story, Inspirational

Destination Goa (part 2)

Goa beach

We both liked the sound of Goa.  We started to do more research about the place from the internet as well as from known people.  Glenn was great at calming my nerves. As well as giving me valuable information about the place and giving me tips on the do’s and don’ts.  We got to know Glenn through my youngest son.  He was the Director for many of the drama productions my son was involved in.  Glenn is white on the outside but truly an Indian on the inside.  He visits and at times lives in India for long periods. At this particular time he was living in Mumbai and regularly visiting Goa.

The advise we heard from many was to avoid South Goa.  Russian mafia seems to have an influence in that part of Goa and makes it an unsavoury place for Tourists.  But, then again it would depend on your age group and your interests I think.  Glenn summed it up nicely.  He said South Goa for Russians is like Bali for Aussies.  Glenn also gave me places to eat and have a drink.  Places where if I say his name and said I was Glenn’s friend I would be treated well.

I also had a chat to another friend and work colleague.  She was from Goa, or her family was from Goa.  She was born in Africa but her family originally comes from Goa and she still had many cousins who lived there.  She gave me a array of phone numbers, just in case we needed some help.

Armed with places to eat and phone numbers to call we were now feeling a lot more confident in booking our flights and accommodation.

Once again my buddy became a fly at the buffet.  For weeks we were stripping Trip Advisor website to shreds. Every review was scrutanised.  In the meantime one of her friends parted the words “you must stay at Taj holiday village”.  https://vivanta.tajhotels.com/en-in/holiday-village-goa/

We had looked at this previously (many a times I might add), but now when we were finally ready to book, they did not have the dates available.  The only option given to us was that they could accommodate us for the last two of the dates of our holiday.  Jan was happy to take it, I was happy to take any thing.  Horray, at least two days of our holidays we had a bed to sleep on.

So now we had to find another place for the beginning.  Finally we settled on Acron Waterfront.  In a way it was good that we did not get more than two days to stay at Taj as it was very pricey.   https://www.acronwaterfrontresortgoa.com/

Along with trying to get accommodation in Goa, we also tried our best to align our itineraries. So, for me it was Aus to Singapore, Singapore to Mumbai, Mumbai to Goa.  I was supposed to reach Mumbai around 9.00pm and then our flight to Goa was next morning at 5.00am.  Jan after her million flights would reach Mumbai at 1.00am and leave for Goa on the same flight as me at 5.00am.  Return journey, we would reach the airport at the same time but I leave to Mumbai and she would to Bangalore to get her connection for Kerala. This way we thought we could share the same cab/shuttle to and from the airport.  Strength in numbers was our thinking.

I had a five or six hour stay in Singapore. I wasn’t concerned about that, I love that airport.  I could spend a whole day without any trouble, my credit card might, but I have no issues of a lengthy stay at Singapore airport.  On the other hand I was rather worried about my stay at the Mumbai airport.  Found out that Mumbai had a Airport Transit hotel. So I made a booking for me, per my memory they do hourly or 4hr blocks. http://www.nirantahotels.com/

I was taking every precaution I could, I even bought a new handbag just for my travels. No, it wasn’t an excuse to buy another handbag.  All my handbags are designed so I could just dump stuff in there.  No zips or any other sealing mechanism.  So I bought one that had a zip, straps that I could put it across my shoulder.  All this to prevent the bag snatching.

Glenn kept assuring me that Mumbai was very safe and there was a lot of respect for “aunty” age people.  But, I kept thinking what would a “white man” know.  And he had just ticked me off by putting me in the “aunty” age group.  For the benefit of other possible travelers to India, the other advise given to me was mainly regarding water.  So only bottled water and no salads.

I did get a few jabs.  Can’t remember what they were for… possibly for Malaria, Hep B and Hep C and something else.  Not sure which Hep I took.  Sometimes people have natural immunity to one of them.  It’s best to do a blood test to find out if you have this natural immunity.  You need to start on the jabs about a month before.  My advise would be to check with your GP a month ahead rather than rely on the above information.

Applied online for the Indian Visa.  Be aware there are many bogus websites.  I guess one way to find out if you are in the right website is in the number of stupid questions asked. If you are in the right website, then you would need information on pretty much everyone and everything.  I was surprised they did not have a question about my cat.  It would have been hard to explain that I do not own a cat.  The problem also was that until you answer the question you cannot go to the next page.  My dad passed away 30 years ago, they needed his occupation, qualification etc. Anyway, I diligently got all the information and submitted my application as I did not want to be deported. I uttered “bloody Indians” many a times (don’t judge me yet, I am apologetic for my judgement by the end of the trip).  My visa arrived within about 2-3 days.

My dog was sulking as I started packing.

Cont….

 

Posted in Daily post, Word prompt

It was 1966…

cindy. jpg
Cindy Crawford

Cindy was born in February of 1966.  About the same time the Sivapalan’s were awaiting nervously for their bundle to be born in June.  If everything goes to plan this would be their first born.  But, nothing has gone to plan so far.

Mum had a few miscarriages before me, It looked like she had passed the danger period this time.  All the prayers and vows at different temples and Churches seems to be aligning and working together. But, it was still early days to open that Champagne bottle.

Finally the day arrives.  Sun was shining.  Well, I don’t really know if the sun was shining, this is Colombo Sri Lanka, unless it was raining, sun is always shining or more like burning.  But, it sounds much better when you say, Sun was shining.  Well, to tell the truth, it was probably humid, it’s always humid in Sri Lanka.

So let me start again, most likely the sun was shining and the air was filled with a musty smell, the smell that you get when it’s a hot and humid day in an overcrowded bus.  Most likely there was no air conditioner, just a ceiling fan, barely moving.  Well, things were worse of for Jesus, so no complains here.

Finally the star was born.

The entire family/clan was waiting for this day.  Grand parents from both sides were thrilled to the core.  Not sure why my paternal grandparents were excited. They already had about 34 grand kids, and about 10 great grand kids.  But, I guess they were excited for mum and dad.  They knew of the anguish and pain they had gone through so far.  For my maternal grand parents, this was their first grand child.

Mum, was blood type RH o negative.  This is usually a problem in pregnancy, if the child she conceives is of RH o positive which then causes an RH incompatibility.  Usually the first pregnancy should be okay, but then in the following pregnancies things can go way wrong. These days there is Anti – D injection, which is administered after the first child is born.  But in my mothers time there was no such thing.  Not sure, why she miscarried in her first pregnancy, but it followed a few others.  And really not sure how she managed to carry me full term ( I am RH O positive).

To my parents I was a miracle.  For my dad I was the extra star that was twinkling in the sky, for my mum I was the extra spice needed for her curry, Curry?? well that doesn’t sound that poetic does it? Okay let’s say “extra spice needed for the world”.

The whole family/the clan was involved in naming this precious child.  Dad asked everyone to contribute suggestions. Main request was “it had to be a small name”.  Sri Lankan’s liked to name things a mile long and then shorten the name or call them by a completely different name.  It would be like naming someone Edward Anthony Brown and then call them Paul.  Well, that’s not even a good example.  White names are not long enough.  Okay my Dad’s name was Sivapalan.  We love the vowels, when in doubt just add a another vowel. His friends and work colleagues called him Siva, which is fine, the first four letters of his name, But the family called him Rasam.  His twin brother’s name is Ramachandran  – and the family called him Nesam.  Do you see a pattern here.  No, there is no pattern, just random names.  Hence, my dad’s decision to  give me a small name.  Uma is the Hindu goddess of the earth.  Apparently he called out each name ” Uma, Uma darling come here”, “Shanthi can you bring me a cup of tea darling” ” Usha, Usha”  etc. So there you go, that’s how I ended up with the smallest Sri Lankan name.

Eighth of June 1966 …

According google on this exact day and year a tornado kills 16 people in Kansas.  Two years later on the exact day James Earl Ray was arrested for the assassination of Martin Luther King.  I am looking through the rest of the statistics and information on things that happened on that day (mostly useless).

8 June 1995 -The first version of the programming language PHP is released (yep we’ve all heard of that one, probably the first and the last)

8 June 1984 – Ghostbusters (1984) is released in cinemas.

If you think the above are really useless pieces of information, well, the rest were even worse.

So, it looks like other than Moi’s great presence to this world, nothing special happened on that day.

Journey begins for mum and dad with their bundle of Joy.  First time parents.  She was so beautiful, she was everything and more they wished for.  She was their pride, She was their joy and she was everything.

I didn’t really understand how serious this journey would be, until the time came for me to have similar fears and hopes.  I went to hell and back to have my two bundles. My fears, turned to hope and finally the glimmer of hope became a reality, not once but twice for me.  I don’t know why he answered my prayers and not the others. I don’t even know if it was the prayers or just was meant to be.  I don’t know if there is a lesson in this.  All I know is that I am great full for this journey.

(don’t quote me on the medical information as I am not a doctor, just things that I have read and heard from other doctors)

Sorry for tricking you into thinking that you were going to read about Cindy Crawford, but hey, her picture may be more attractive than mine, but my life sure is more interesting than hers.  Well, minus the marriages and fame.

Daily Post – word Prompts – journey

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/a-journey/

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

The Dreaded “C” Word Cont… (part 5)

cancer

 The Dreaded C Word

The dreaded “C” word cont….

The dreaded “C” word cont…. (3rd lot)

The dreaded “C” Word cont… (part 4)

I am not a regular temple visitor.  Even when I go to the temple I prefer to go after the pooja and have a one on one with the Almighty in silent prayer/meditation.  I don’t ever ask for anything.  I go there to thank him. So this particular visit was a strange one for me.  I couldn’t stop the tears running down my cheeks.  I felt it was not fair to ask him to spare my life as there were small children dying of cancer; there were pregnant mothers dying of cancer, I was just asking for a postponement by 3 years if possible.  In 3 years Arj would join Hari in High School.  The school drops offs would become so much easier for Ganesh.  In fact, there was a school bus.  The two brothers together in the same school would mean they can be of support for each other.  These were my reasoning.

Some ask me if I was worried about death itself.   Was I scared of dying?

It never crossed my mind. I know it sounds almost untruthful.  But really it never did.  All my fears were about the two kids and how will their lives be.  If the question was put forward to me now, if I was scared of death,   I have to say no, death is the last of my worries, death is the easy part, and living is much harder.  I have to work hard to live.  Once I complete living today, I have to live again tomorrow, with all the responsibilities and commitments. 

I don’t know about heaven or hell or an afterlife.  I don’t really know if any of them, or some them exist.  I see no point in knowing that.  I don’t think my behaviour in this life is going to change in anyway by knowing that.  I do good, not for the dangling carrot, but just because it is the right thing to do. I don’t really care if I make it to heaven or I come back as a bird in my next birth.  I feel I have no control over that.  But I sure can have some control over what happens in this birth. 

I know he can say “I will give you cancer any time and take that smugness out of you”.  Maybe so, but damned if I was going to go without a fight.  I had nothing to lose and everything to gain for the sake of my kids.  You twisted bastard, you picked on the wrong woman. 

Things with my mother were becoming tolerable but not great.  We were behaving like guests living in each other’s house.  I knew I had to make some serious decisions and make some serious changes.  I didn’t tell my mum the date of my surgery.  One of my cousins lost her husband a year ago and mum has always felt guilty that she couldn’t make it to the funeral.  It was his one year death anniversary coming up.  This was all in Perth.  I booked her flight to Perth and suggested that she spend some time with her in her time of grief.

I had decided that its time that I made my family capable of looking after themselves in case I lose the battle.  I wasn’t accepting defeat, but I thought it was like having a will, life insurance, just having a game plan.  Training started on using the washing machine, putting the clothes out, bins out, vacuuming and helping me with cooking.

Obviously my mum was not happy when she found out that the surgery was going to be when she was away and wanted to change her flights.  One of her concerns were “what would the people say?” I put my foot down and said, if I need you I will definitely call you back, but you taught me to be capable and an independent woman. This is a simple surgery and there is no point in you changing your flights.  She was hell bent on staying.  Her adorable friend Lyn came to my aid. She could somehow feel it was something more than a hysterectomy.  She took my mum for coffee and made her understand that she needs to respect my wishes.

I needed all my strength to fight this battle.  I couldn’t do it with the negativity that was looming at home.  Even though I raised eyebrows by sending my mum away at a time most people would have asked their parents help, I knew this was the right decision for me.  One was the negativity, the other was while mum was around, the three men in the house would not learn any of the domestic basics. This was very important to me.  No loose ends.  If I am gone, there is no way that hubby and mum could live in the same house.  It wouldn’t be a healthy environment for the kids either. They needed to be self sufficient.

I did think about the two adults in this equation as well. My husband as usual wouldn’t show his grief, bury himself at work with zero patience and maximum irritation.  I can’t even imagine what this would have done to my mum.  Grief would have destroyed her.  Unattended grief turns into anger.  And that’s what would have happened to hubby and mum.

We also come from a culture where the men think, all is achieved by making money. And for the women, it’s all about getting home cooked food on the table.   If only, those two things were the only things needed for solve all the issues in life, it would be much easier to live.

In all of these dramas hubby was no angel, but he has a visa, a permit, granted to him, under the clause of “whatever said and done, he is nice man at heart” which translates to he can be a brat as long as, time to time he shows signs of a gentleman.  My mum, my father in law and a few others or our kin are recipients of this privileged permit as well.  Somehow I wasn’t privy to one.  I read in one of the pregnancy books, that pregnancy brings upon tantrums and melt downs on the mother as her hormones are all over the place.  Reading that sentence out to my husband nearly caused another tantrum.  So there was no room for Uma to be a diva.  I didn’t want to be one anyway.  If you are surrounded by drunken people and you are the only one sober, you realise how badly they are behaving and you become more and more sober because you just loathe what you see.  Mean while the drunk is thinking I am great, I am funny, I am strong and I am it.  While they are gleaming in their egoistical glory unfortunately the sober one is suffering, she/he is thinking, this is my family, this is my friend, and I can’t leave, they will self destruct, no one else will put up with them, not for long anyway, and I am the only one thinking straight and fair.

We tackled Diva behaviour by dealing with the Evil Eye.  We believed that evil eye was the cause of everything evil that happens in one’s life.  Same reason was given for domestic arguments.  The reason we had an absolute melt down was because of this darn Evil Eye, “I said, you said, what will the people say” was all due to the poor schmuck who visited you that evening and complimented your kids. I failed to pick up on the fact that it was not a compliment but rather the work of casting an evil eye.  So we finish the argument by mum making a ritual of burning chillies in a pot with soil and other magical ingredients.  We hug and kiss and all forgiven (but rarely forgotten, memories are stored away for a later use).

The concern of cancer, young kids, just day to day chores, work, money or how little I was earning at this stage, future and like I needed a hole in my head the two divas was all consuming my thoughts.  But mum in Perth, there was a sense cease fire and we were starting to build a relationship.  We were actually happy.  It is a strange thing to say when you have a cloud over your head.  But then again, I was not thinking about it, not all the time anyway.  I really didn’t see the point in dwelling on an issue which I had no control over.

I woke up from the surgery, at this stage I didn’t know if they had gone ahead with the hysterectomy or they had just closed me up because they found the cancer.  It was good news.  The surgeon explained that they removed everything as the endometriosis had progressed real badly. They had removed both ovaries and everything attached to that, even the tubes.  They had to scrape down the walls of the kidney, liver etc as this growth had spread that far.   Everything removed was sent out for more cancer testing.  Results came negative.

I came to the conclusion that the raised tumour marker was due to this extensive endometriosis.  I felt that we had dodged a bullet.  I wanted to make use of this experience.  I was mad at us for having petty fights.  None of our fights was on serious issues, no one cheated on another, and it was not related to assets and property, we had everything to be happy for, but still we wasted time squabbling over stupid things.

Again I say the reason for bringing the laundry into the public is not to compete with the Kardashians, but to say that life is precious, time is precious don’t waste it.  We have been given a second chance, not everyone gets that wakeup call and unfortunately for some it’s too late.  Don’t hit the snooze button, just wake up NOW.  Then again, if you haven’t dealt with the issue, however trivial it may be to the other, that fight/argument is going to revisit you again.  Learn to listen to each other.  Be fair, and accept compromise, but at the same time don’t let the other bully you. If you let the other bully you into silence, you are playing Ms/Mr Amicable, while boiling on the inside.  Eruption postponed to a later date.

My mum was married off at a very young age, sixteen or seventeen, almost a child bride.  Her formal education ended with that. However, my dad believed in her abilities and talents.  More than anything he loved her unconditionally.  He was an educated man. But in his eyes, mum was still an equal, worthy of his love and respect. With dad’s support mum flourished in her confidence and started to hone on her talents. She got herself a Diploma in Dressmaking.   Dad’s sudden passing shattered mum.  It shattered both of us.  It came from nowhere.   No warnings.  Start to finish was just sixteen days.  He had a brain aneurism.  I have an enormous amount of admiration for the way she rose to the challenge of bringing up her only daughter.

Little does she realise, that this is where I drew half the strength for my battles.  She lived the life of Riley’s until my Dad’s passing.  She lived in a great big house with an aide for each chore. She was Chauffer driven to anywhere and everywhere.  She was treated like a queen by the staff at The Tea Research Institute, where my dad worked as a scientist.  These were the perks that came with my dad’s profession.  After, dad’s passing we moved to Colombo into a small flat. Life began with no aides and no cars.  We had to learn to use public transport.  We had to learn to live on a small pension. Mum realised this was not going to be enough.  She did not hesitate.  She thought she could make use of that diploma in dressmaking and accepted a job in a Garment factory.  Most relatives and friends were very supportive. But there were the odd ones who couldn’t resist sniggering at mum for going below her social standing.  Mum didn’t care.   Mum was just forty two. She may not have a formal education, but made up for it with her conviction.  She was very strong, even when it came to my marriage; some were not very convinced with my choice for a husband.  But she stood strong; her daughter’s happiness was paramount for her.  She wasn’t going to let anyone bully us.  Dad had given us the confidence to be independent and she was not going to fail her husband.  She missed dad immensely, we both did, and we had to be there for each other.  This was the period I realised how strong my mum was.  Each day she was becoming more confident and embracing her independence.

Living with us I realised, she had to live according to our whims and fancy.  It wasn’t always fair.  We were taking each other for granted.  When things got heated we didn’t mind telling her that this was our house and that’s how it’s going to stand. So, when mum returned from Perth, I explained to mum it would be better if she moved out.  In my mind I wasn’t just thinking about my needs, I was genuinely thinking of her needs as well.  She is an independent woman, and we are keeping her here with her wings clipped.

She didn’t see it that way.  She was very upset. She was really angry.  Well, why wouldn’t she?  She felt betrayed and used.  She looked after the boys from their birth. She was the full time child minder, when I returned to work. Now, that the boys are grown up, I am just discarding her. I tried to explain to her that wasn’t the case. I explained to her that, I love her very much but living under the same roof, we are just tolerating each other.  I don’t want to tolerate my mother, I wanted to yearn for my mother and her company.  And I explained that living separately but close by, we could achieve that.  Again Lyn made mum consider my suggestion.  So she reluctantly moved out.  She was still very angry and hurt.

I was still recovering from the surgery.  So, in everyone else’s eyes I was being crazy.  Why would I disregard her help? She could cook for me and take care of me.  Everyone thought I was just being spiteful.  Well, probably mum thought the same.  In life there is nothing called a free lunch.  Help usually comes with control and obligation.  This is how I felt at that time.  This is how I was made to feel.  I wanted my independence and sanity back.  And I knew in time mum will start to enjoy hers.

It was about a month and half since the surgery.  I had started to drive and do simple stuff.  This was a strange surgery.  You feel fantastic one minute and the next minute a dizzy spell.  I felt that I was starting to gain weight.  But more than anything I felt unfit, my stomach and my back were like jelly.  So went to see the personal trainer, I met years ago for a shoulder injury that I had.  He was amazing.  He explained to me that as the stomach region is compromised due to the surgery, and that in turn is not supporting my back. So it was gentle core exercises to strengthen the weaker muscles.  Progress was very slow.  But gradually I got fitter and thinner.

Life was good again.  Life was actually fabulous.  I felt like a new woman.  Many showed concern about a hysterectomy as they felt worse after the surgery due to the lack of hormones.  For me it was the reverse.  I wish I had done it earlier.  I just felt so great.  Until…. Until Dr. Lynch decided to spoil it all.

 

 

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

The dreaded “C” word cont…. (3rd lot)

 

 

cancer

 

 

The Dreaded C Word

The dreaded “C” word cont….

Read the above two before you tackle this …

My journey begins. For years, I suffered from endometriosis.  Medical explanation to this is a tissue that lines the inside of the uterus starts to grow out side.  I also had a few fibroids in my ovaries.   I just like growing things inside my body.  If I had done so much growing on the outside of my body I could be six feet tall instead of 5ft. This meant for years I had suffered from bleeding and severe stomach cramps.  Naprogesic (a pain killer) was my ever loving friend. I was anaemic at most times. It was unbearable pain and discomfort.  However as a working mother of two over energetic boys and a wife of a domestically under contributing husband, I had no choice but to soldier on.  The GP’s were shying away from a hysterectomy as I was under the age of 40.  Damn hormones, you can’t live with them and you can’t live without them.

With a busy lifestyle my visits to the doctor was not that frequent.  I turned 40, but we also moved states and yes there was so much else happening.  So, no trips to the doctor, just trips to the chemist to get more Naprogesic.  I was 41, I could feel that things were getting really bad; a job got cancelled last minute.  That day was no different, I was in a lot of pain, I was already in the car when the client declined, so decided to drive to the doctors and get this pain sorted out once and for all.

My reasoning was that I had two kids, not planning on another, I had enough, I want the whole thing out.  Well, did I open the Pandora’s Box or what?  Ultra sound confirmed that I had plenty of rubbish in one of my ovaries, and the endometriosis was well cooked. Next stop, the Gynaecologist.  Met the Gyno, nice man, apparently his dad was a Gyno too, and his sister was a midwife.  Hope they were not talking shop at the dinner table.

Didn’t, realise that this would be the start of all tests.  At this stage, things were rather simple, decision was made to remove one of my ovaries, so that the other could produce enough hormones and we could avoid hormone replacement therapy.   This was around June/July. I was told that I will need two months minimum to recover.  I am a very practical person.  I thought well I will have to do it in one month.  We set the date for the surgery one week before the school holidays in September.  I had endured this for so long I couldn’t see the urgency.  I had so much to plan before the surgery.  Two months gave me enough time to cook and freeze food for the domestically challenged and his kids.  School holidays meant no school drops offs, and sports drop offs, no chess clubs and no debating.

I started cooking. My surgeon had given me scripts for a few more scans and blood tests to be done before the surgery to assist him with the surgery.  Blood test completed.  Two weeks went past and my life remained the same. I was still yelling at kids to get up in the morning, and the husband to get out of the toilet.

I was at work, it was 11: 30 am.  Just had a coffee and biscuits, too late to feel guilty about that chocolate bikky that I downed.  Yep, it’s Lyn, my surgeons’ nurse on the phone asking when I had something to eat.  I said just now, thinking “Christ I am only going for a hysterectomy not a lap band surgery”  She said politely, “Can you not drink or eat anything anymore and can you please come in for some scans at 4.00pm?” My blood test revealed that my CEA count was high.  That was a  Pauline Hanson moment – Please explain.  Carcinoembryonic Antigen.  She said “best if the doctor explains it, he will see you tomorrow after the tests”.  She said it’s a type of tumour marker. I am still in the dark. But I realised, that there were some alarm bells going off, at the doctors. I didn’t have much time to ponder if it was a false alarm or not as I had to organise school pick up and everything else.  It did stun me for a bit though.  Talked to the girls at work, they were nurses before they started their own business doing physio therapy, they had some idea but I was probably not in the right head space to take in all the information. Went outside to get some fresh air, and to call hubby, ask a friend to pick up the boys.  Time passed very quickly.  Had a CT scan of my lungs and a MRI of the stomach.

Little did I realise that this was the beginning of radiology cocktails.  Most of them were white, some of them had slight pink tinge, some pale yellow. It didn’t’ matter what colour it was, they had one common component.  They all tasted rotten.  Anyway, I was asked to come the next day to meet the Doc.

cont …. Continue reading “The dreaded “C” word cont…. (3rd lot)”