When the end is also the beginning...

This evening I went for a swim and rushed back to see Brown Bear before he went to bed. I asked him to help me move the things from our old car to the new one. He put on some shoes and came outside - a bit reluctantly admittedly - and then helped lug car seats and random water bottles and leads from one car to the other. As we worked together I explained that it was the end of an era and this was the car he had come home in as a baby. He smiled at me and we carried on. When we had emptied the car, remembering to take out the eighties CD which has some songs he and Blue Bear like on it, I asked him to get the booster seat from the new car. He asked why and I said, "put the booster on the passenger seat and get in. We're going for one last drive."

We found some rock and roll on the radio and I put my foot down. We drove down the hill (a bit too fast if I'm honest) and went round the car park of the golf club. "Do you remember when Blue came to live with us and he cried so much ? I drove round here a lot that night." "To make him go to sleep ?" "Well to help calm him down, but it didn't really work. He missed Auntie so much." We talked a bit more about his brother then I told him how magical it was to bring him home for the first time as a newborn baby. One day I will tell him about how desperately we wanted him. How we cried and wished and prayed for him and when we knew he was real it was the happiest day of my life. That I talked to him every day in my tummy and sang him songs. When Neo miaowed at 4 in the morning the baby kicked me from inside and I knew they would be a force to be reckoned with.

It's not just the car that is old now. Neo is frail and ill. He can't sit comfortably as he is stiff in his back legs. He sleeps on our bed all night and can't bear to be left alone. His kidneys are failing and it's breaking my heart to think he's not the lively boy who came home with us over ten years ago from Battersea Cats and Dogs home. Brown Bear loves him very much and it makes me sad to think how much he will miss him when he's gone. Recently Neo has started to sleep on Blue Bear's bed. He is an excellent babysitter and will stay until his charge is sleeping, then he comes downstairs and miaows at us to tell us the boys are asleep in bed.

Things that I've taken for granted are coming to an end right now. The car we brought our baby boy home in is being replaced. The cat who made our first house a home is growing older and weaker. The year is coming to an end and it's taken all of my energy and strength to make it to this point. I don't want to remember the lowest points, but I have to in order to get past them. This time last year my beloved friend Soraya was in hospital with kidney failure. She downplayed it on the phone, but it was as serious as it sounds. I didn't see her as she didn't want visitors in hospital. I was preparing for our first skiing holiday in France. We were really excited and hadn't told the boys yet. I was waiting for Blue Bear's birthday party to be over before I made it all about Christmas in the snow. Soraya was so pleased for us and I promised we'd speak when we got home. I think we did only once more before she died.

Saying goodbye is difficult. Not least when you don't expect to have to do it. I've told my boy that this car was special to me because of what it meant in relation to him and his brother. It's now time to make some new memories for all of us.

Scream if you wanna go faster ? What if I wanna get off ?

Apologies for the extended and unexplained radio silence over here. There are reasons.

The practical one is that my MacBook finally gave up after over 9 years loyal service. The other one is more involved. Since the start of this year it feels like I've been like sitting on a rollercoaster that is slowly creeping up the incline with the fear and anticipation that comes with it. Just as I think it's about to go over the top and gain momentum it turns out there is further to climb. Now in the interest of full disclosure I should tell you that I am not a fan of rollercoasters or 'scaring yourself silly in the name of fun.' I don't indulge in horror movies or chase thrills of any kind. It's just not my bag baby. So when I say that's what it's been like I mean it's involuntary participation in something that I can't predict and that I didn't want to be doing in the first place.

The incessant journey has included bereavements, family illness, starting a new job and the stresses that go with all of these things. At each stage I've gone into practical 'doing' mode so that we can get through it. Then it's become too much. After a while being on the edge of your nerves becomes the 'new normal.' (I hate the word normal - it's so judgie, but it's apposite here).  I've never needed much sleep and it's possible for me to function on very little, but I am at the stage where forming thoughts escapes me. Every day seems to present a situation that needs to be solved. A child who needs to be in two different places so there's the logistical planning. A work thing to attend or plan or deliver. Add to the mix the guilt at not being around to help with medical appointments or give sufficient time to listen to friends who are in difficulty.

All my energy was going into training for a half marathon and then it was done. My body kept going and going without enough rest. Each time I thought I'd get to rest it didn't happen. I gave up trying to get a break, it was pointless. Each time I think I will get to stop and rest something else happens. So I just keep going. It's like making a tower out of playing cards on a table with one slightly wonky leg. You know you're just putting off the inevitable. So I balance one more card on top. Yeah that's fine, it's only one more thing. I take another card because if I'm doing that I might as well just do this as well. The structure starts to look a bit wobbly. It's still standing though. Just.

I hate that whole, 'I'm more tired than you' competition that we're all supposed to be into these days. Everyone is busy - we're all doing too much. I'm not asking for sympathy. The reason I mention it now is that now I have a sense of a year having gone by without having had a chance to blink. The feeling of being in panic mode for the entire time has caught up with me. I am exhausted. My body aches and I am rarely coherent. This has been going on all year. No one can sustain that level of stress and be unaffected.

It's almost the end of the year and if I think about what has changed since this time last year it's been momentous stuff. Soraya was still alive this time last year. We were making radio shows and making plans for the radio station. I was at home and took my sons to school and picked them up and we were planning our first ever family skiing holiday (which was epic by the way !) I had more hair then - ok I know that's mundane, but it was a big deal to me.

So to go back to the rollercoaster analogy I am still in this rickety carriage that I don't want to be in. With fewer companions than I had before. The ones who are there are who I want to be with though. The sense of fear hasn't subsided at all. If anything that anticipation of something awful about to happen is ever present. I'm don't know when I'm going to arrive at the end of this ride, but I have to stop holding my breath in fear. After all, with everything that's happened surely I can deal with whatever comes next ?

You want me to put my boobs where ?

There are a few things that I have observed about getting older - I mean proper older not that "Oh I can't believe I'm going to be 30 next birthday" kind of rubbish. This is the realistion that two years from now I'm going to be 50. Oh shit ! What on earth have I done with all these years so far ? Well, a fair bit really. It's what's to come that fascinates me now.

I always took it for granted that I would grow old with my friend Soraya. We had our kids older than most women we know so shared a loathing of all things aimed at, 'yummy mummies.' When we were both back at work after maternity leave we used to go for a run at lunchtime. It was less about fitness and more about plodding round Green Park while having a natter and a catch up. One weekend while driving somewhere - probably to visit the in-laws - she phoned me. It wasn't unusual for us to have a chat outside of work, but it was often futile as one or other of us would be on the move. She told me that she had something to tell me and she was sorry not to tell me in person, but wanted me to  know something. I knew it wasn't going to be good news. It wasn't. Soraya had breast cancer. She apologised to me - I told her not to be so daft. Then we talked about all the practical things that she had to do, the treatment plan, the time off work, etc. I offered my help with anything at all. She thanked me and we went about our business.

Once the treatment started we would talk about how it was going. When anyone 'helpfully' suggested some woo-woo solution like herbs or light healing we'd have an expletive filled conversation about it. I mean me and Hubbie had heard all that guff when were told we would never have children. Shamanic drumming, acupuncture, sound healing, all sorts of magical waters to bathe in and even some specific foods were all suggested. When anyone told Soraya that this thing was better for her than chemotherapy we would discuss how, "it would be lovely to bathe in marshmallows, but I'll take the poison that has a chance of killing the cancer thanks." At one point she told me how guilty she felt about the 'poison' and I told her to stop thinking of it that way and to see it as medicine that was working for her and not against her. We spoke about hair loss and how crap she felt after chemo.

Then the treatment was done and it was the waiting game until she had the 'all clear.' There were check ups and after effects and the constant fear that any twinge or headache was a sign of something far more serious. Two years ago she had a pain in her spine that wouldn't go away. Whenever I talked to her we were baffled that her doctors weren't taking it seriously considering her health history. Then a year ago she paid privately for an MRI and it showed she had a tumour on her spine. That's what was causing the pain. She was livid - understandably. We talked about what was to come next. Radiotherapy this time and she told people in stages that she had secondary cancer. She had the overseas holiday she'd wanted for years. We went to the theatre and spent time making radio shows together. Every time we met we would hug like long lost sisters and it was magic. It was her last year of life - even though we didn't know that at the time. I am so grateful I spent as much time with her as I did, albeit by accident rather than design.

So why is this on my mind right now ? Well a couple of reasons, but I'll tell you just one of them for now. About a month ago I was called for a mammogram. My first thought was, hang on who's going to go with me ? Don't get me wrong I am perfectly capable of going to appointments by myself. However, in this case it was one we had already discussed. Whenever Soraya had a check up I'd offer to go with her. We agreed when it was my turn she would do the same. I told Hubbie and he said he'd go with me. It was a lovely gesture, but when we arrived were told it is a women only clinic and he had to wait outside - fair enough. As I sat in the waiting room making small talk with the nurse I felt the panic begin. Not for me - that wasn't the issue at all. It was fear that the sadness would rise and overwhelm me. It wasn't via breast screening that she found out about her cancer. She did have a lot of them afterwards during remission though. We joked about the 'boob sandwich' and how only a man could have created such an instrument of torture. As I repeated the same joke to the kindly nurse who undertook the exam my face hurt from trying not to cry. Then it was over and I went to work.

The results came two weeks later. All fine.

Not everyone is so lucky. For anyone who has had different news I am thinking of and holding you right now.