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 ?

This time next week it will be done

This year began with the loss of two people I love. A family member who was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer that took her life and a beloved friend who having beaten breast cancer and completed the Moonwalk with me developed secondary cancer and died painfully and suddenly. Both were cared for by Macmillan.

Years ago my friend's father Michael and Hubbie's school friend Helen were cared for by Macmillan nurses at the end of their lives. The nurses attended Michael and Helen's funerals and I know it meant a lot to the families and those who loved them. 

When I told Macmillan I was going to raise money in memory of my friend they said, "we are here for you too." That is why they are so amazing - they support and care for everyone who is affected by cancer. 

I am fortunate to have my health and my life so I am doing this for those who:

- are waiting for results

- have just had a diagnosis

- are having treatment 

- have reached the end of their journey 

- care for someone with cancer 

In May I cut off my hair and donated it so now I'm all streamlined and ready to run a half marathon. This is a genuine challenge for me and I'm training so that I can do my best to finish this distance. It is the furthest I've run so far and I've set an ambitious target to enable Macmillan to continue their fantastic support for people living with cancer and those around them.

Finally, this is for the lady who sat in front of me at the theatre the other night wearing a hat to cover her post-chemo hair loss. She told me her cancer is now incurable. I hope she gets to dance and sing for a lot longer.

On Sunday 14th October I am running my first half marathon to raise funds for Macmillan Cancer Support. It is a genuine challenge for me and the furthest I've ever run. Wish me luck - and if you are able to please sponsor me: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/RunSwazi

Thank you

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.

Fame at last...

Well this happened. 

In January I decided I was going to cut off all my hair to raise money for Macmillan and donate it to charity. 

Macmillan contacted me and asked if I'd like to take part in a photoshoot for them and I said, "hella yeah !" 800 photos later they produced this for the new fundraising pack. It even features the hand of my wonderful hairdresser Alan. 

The hair was donated to Little Princess Trust who produce real hair wigs for children and young people with hair loss from cancer treatment. It's a wonderful charity and I'm so proud to have been able to do this. 

So the next big challenge is the Royal Parks half marathon that I'm going to run in October. It's the furthest distance I've run and it's a real effort for me to train for this. I am hoping my shorter hair will make me more aerodynamic so I don't make a complete idiot of myself ! The training plan starts next Monday and I'm hoping to add to the £1200 I've already raised for the fantastic work that Macmillan do to support people with cancer and those who care for them. 

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported my efforts so far, financially and emotionally. I'm touched by the care and kindness that so many lovely folk have shown me. It hasn't made the challenges (both people and things) easier to deal with, but it's been reassuring to have a hand to hold and a listening ear.  

You can follow my progress on Instagram and if you want to support Macmillan I have a fundraising page. 

Sticking it to cancer

In the last 24 hours two women I know have lost their lives to cancer. Yesterday evening I received a message that my brother-in-law's mother had passed away surrounded by her sons. She had been a carer for her husband for 30 years and enjoyed only 6 years with her grandchildren and a partner who had also lost his wife to long term illness. Following a diagnosis last summer she received a very short and rapid course of chemotherapy, but it was unable to save her life. Christmas was spent checking with my sister how she was doing as we all knew it was only a matter of weeks before her mother-in-law would no longer be with us. At least her sons were with her at the end.

Then this morning I had the message I had been dreading since I heard last week that my darling friend had only days to live. I had just finished teaching yoga and was making a cup of tea. The phone beeped and I stared at the message for a few minutes. Then I broke down in tears. Big ugly, wracking sobs and felt my legs give way under me and I sat on the floor crying. I had only spoken to her a few weeks ago. We saw each other and laughed and joked that when she was done being unwell we'd go back to making radio shows together and making plans to rule the world. So what happens now ? 

It's not supposed to be like this. She's supposed to be at the end of the phone to help me prepare for the job interview she kept telling me she knew I was going to get. Who am I going to talk to about the letter I got telling I have to go for a mammogram ? She was an old hand at them and would have talked sense into me about how it's nothing to worry about and honestly it's just annoying more than painful. Don't even get me started on menopause. We were supposed to go through that together. Comparing notes and sharing mini-dramas and hysteria. Now she's not here any more. 

So, I have to go into this interview with all the confidence that she had in me. Knowing that she had belief in me and when I thought I couldn't do it she told me of course I could. As for the boob thing, well I'll be honest I'm not looking forward to that at all. Maybe I can ask a friend to go with me. Is that being pathetic ? 

I'm also taking on cancer head on. Literally. I'm going to shave my hair off for Macmillan Cancer who supported some people I love when they were at the end of their journey with cancer. Macmillan nurses are incredible and I want to show my appreciation for them. I'm growing my hair between now and my birthday then I'm going to get it cut off and donate it to a charity that makes wigs for children. With my new aerodynamic style I'm going to run the Royal Parks half marathon - at lightening speed of course. 

So that's my plan. Ok, it's not a cure for cancer, but it's my response to the senselessness of it all right now. 

If you want to stick to cancer and help ensure no one has to cope with cancer alone please sponsor me here: https://bravetheshave.macmillan.org.uk/shavers/swazi-rodgers

Truly, Madly, Deeply...

I've decided that I need cheering up this week.

I think we can agree that it's been a pretty crappy week. First we found out that David Bowie had died. It was unexpected, sad and completely overwhelming. Then today it was announced that Alan Rickman has also died of cancer. They were both younger than my parents and Hubbie's parents. It's a shock.

Alan Rickman was in some of my favourite movies. Juliet Stevenson - his co-star from Truly Madly Deeply - was on the radio this evening talking about their friendship and her voice broke when she said she'd seen him yesterday. It was heartbreaking. I know there are a lot of people who knew him best as Severus Snape, but some of us grew up with a memory of him as Hans Gruber from Die Hard or the Sheriff of Nottingham. It was rumoured that his scene stealing performance was so good that Kevin Costner ordered many of Alan's scenes to be cut in order to him Kev look better. Frankly with that horror show of an accent it would have taken a lot more to save Kev's performance than some judicious editing. In Close My Eyes his role as the Proust reading cuckolded husband of a wife committing incest was masterful. I loved him in pretty much all the roles I watched him in - including Snape, of course. While Emma Thompson stole their storyline in Love Actually, he was a surprisingly sympathetic would-be cad. I was once meeting my lovely friend SJ in Sloane Square (many years ago now) and she said, "I've just seen Alan Rickman." I got a bit over excited and shouted, "ALAN RICKMAN ? WHERE ?" SJ shushed me as apparently he had heard me (hardly surprising) and turned round. So near and yet so far.

So, here's what is helping cheer me up:

The lovely flower that our neighbour gave us for Christmas has flowered and it is just beautiful.

Now that both boys are in education I am trying to get some of myself back. I'm taking better care of myself and am excitedly making plans to run a yoga retreat later this year.

If all else fails a kitten will always save the day.

I'm incensed by this (incense, get it ?)

I last did the Moonwalk 5 years ago and often take part in the race for life - I used to do about 3 a year, now I do just the one. I don't like to hassle people so I really try only to ask for sponsorship for the big events which I'm putting some effort into taking part in. The Moonwalk is still the hardest thing I've taken part in (I'm including childbirth in this - yes seriously) although it's nothing compared with what anyone trying to survive a diagnosis of cancer is doing.

Which brings me onto a bug bear of mine that I've decided to voice here. The response I had from some people about donating to cancer charities. Now you choose what you give your money to and if you decide not to give to certain causes - or any - that is up to you. What I cannot understand is why some people feel the need to give out about how they disapprove of cancer treatment and get all judgey about it.

To be clear I think animal testing is abhorrent and I'm not impressed that cancer research charities essentially fund pharmaceutical companies to do research into treatments that they eventually charge money for. It's not exactly transparent is it ? What I have no right to comment on, however, is a person's decision to have chemotherapy or radiotherapy or any other drug treatment for their particular condition. I have been taken aback and horrified to see 'friends' making remarks about how it's evil and doesn't work because of what happened to their family or friends. I have two specific reasons for finding his behaviour reprehensible.

1. In the last few months I've been delighted that one of the fantastic midwives who took great care of us when my son was being born has fought and beaten her diagnosis of inoperable cancer. Penny was fit and healthy, practised yoga and swam daily. When she found out she had pancreatic cancer and probably only a few months to live she decided to fight it with a hardcore regime of chemo and radiotherapy and this week Penny had the operation that signifies she's beaten a cancer that kills 1 in five of those who have it.

2. One of my dearest friends who I'm walking the Moonwalk with was diagnosed with breast cancer and undertook a gruelling chemotherapy regime while also caring for her young son and elderly mother. We had long phone calls between chemo sessions and one day she spoke to me about how difficult it was. 'Friends' had suggested holistic therapies to her and she felt guilty that she was choosing to be 'poisoned' into killing the cancer. I talked to her about seeing the chemo as the thing that would make her well and that the massages and reflexology would be a lovely between treatments addition. If she could see it as making her well it had a better chance of working and the end result would be that she would be around for years with her young son and partner. Soraya is now fit and well - albeit with shorter hair. She writes a fab blog about her (mis)adventures with breast cancer here: Big C in 3G

Both of these women are alive because they had treatment. Both women love yoga and are keen advocates of alternative therapies, but they also chose to have 'conventional' treatment that means they are here now to be with their children and families. I also have plenty of friends and family who did not survive treatment and passed away. It is not fair, but it does happen.

I admire the work of Marie Curie Cancer Care and Macmillan nurses who took care of people I cared for very deeply. Walk the walk (the charity behind Moonwalk) was founded by a woman whose own experience of breast cancer informed what she felt was important in helping her to recover. Treatments and therapies including cold cap - that helps with hair loss during chemo - and centres to provide support and care including childcare during treatment all make a huge difference.

Cancer affects so many of us either directly or in a close friend or family member. It's fine to have an opinion. It's fine to believe that your way is the best way. It's not fine to share it when I've asked you to support or donate. You may well believe in sugar pills, or chanting, or wheatgrass and that is lovely for you. You don't, however, have any right to judge or castigate someone else for choosing to have a treatment that you would not have. Again for clarity, none of those who have made these 'helpful' remarks have ever had cancer, so it's all theoretical.

If you don't want to donate your silence will not be seen as offensive or require any explanation. Your desire to make comments that are unkind and unnecessarily cruel to someone who has made possibly the toughest decision of their life, however, is unwelcome. Just keep your comments to yourself.

As your Mum probably told you, if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing.

If  you would like to sponsor me and Soraya in our efforts to walk a marathon between us overnight on 10th May you can do so here: Team Swazi and Soraya

Thank you xxx