From Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (film)
“’Roid rage?” my son had asked. I had not been in the best of moods, and the steroids did have something to do with the general edginess that morning… although I am inclined, myself, to just lay the blame squarely at the feet of vanity. We were going out.
With another round of chemo and immunotherapy looming, no idea how well I will make it through this next three day course of treatment and lockdown happening once again, we were determined, weather permitting, to get out somewhere… anywhere… if only for a couple of hours. So, when a patch of blue sky showed on Sunday, we set off for Oxford.
This year has been difficult for everyone as far as getting out and about is concerned, but the last few weeks have been even dodgier on a personal level. There are too many unanswered questions, important ones like, how far can I drive? Or walk? What are my new limitations and how far can I stretch them? There was only really one way to find out.
The hour’s drive was fine. I was pleased by that. Then I had to get out of the car.
My personal Halloween horror story had happened the day before. Washing my hair, I had noticed the odd one slipping down the drain as I rinsed. It was not until I was almost done that noticed my hands we full of hair. Not just the odd strand… but handfuls of the stuff. Attempting to comb the remaining curls detached them too. Two minutes with the scissors sheared it short… and a good gust of wind will take the rest like a dandelion clock…
I cannot complain, as I expected to lose my hair very quickly after the first batch of chemo and it kindly hung around for weeks. For a few days, even the short-cropped hair clung to my scalp, looking as if I had just chosen a new hairstyle. That, along with the steroid-induced moon-face, knocks years off my age, as there is not a wrinkle, not a fold, pinch or crease in my face or neck with all the swelling. You could patent this stuff as the ultimate in cosmetic ‘fillers’…
On the other hand, I do look rather as if someone has strategically inserted a bicycle pump and has inflated me far too enthusiastically…
Then, to add insult to injury, you have to strap an oxygen tank to your back and do your wanderings feeling like some kind of surrealist turtle at the speed of a tortoise. This, I could live without.
So, vanity took a hit… until I realised that vanity could go take a hike too. I was out and about, after all, walking around and doing things, in good company and sunshine… and the alternatives were not exactly appealing.
So, that is one hurdle I am over. I hope.
It is odd though, to realise that even in a scenario like this, where ‘life and death’ is not just a figure of speech any more, that something as simple as self-image can still have so much impact. Thinking about it, though, it does go a little deeper than that. It is about control.
With cancer, as with so many other serious illnesses, not only are you at the mercy of an unseen assailant within, you seem to cede control of your body to the medical profession… and they do with it as they see fit. Your days march to the timetable of drugs and appointments… even your body responds on cue to what the medications do and what they ask of it.
It is an insidious process. Your sense of identity is leached away, little by little… your appearance is changed, your work, your routines are gone. You cannot eat or wear the things you would usually do, your sleep patterns are disrupted, in fact, anything that makes you feel like ‘you’ is under threat. And that includes any plans and pipe-dreams you might have had for the future… not least because you no longer know that you will have one.
It is not all that surprising, then, that it is the little things that begin to get to you. Those, you feel you may be able to control, at least in some small measure. I am beginning to feel it is increasingly important to find something you can keep within your control. That might be learning all you can about your condition and treatment options, so that you have the means and knowledge ready with which to make your own informed decisions. Or doing something creative… completely random… unusual… something just for you.
I’m cooking a lot more. Revisiting old favourite dishes, comfort foods and recipes that have been passed through generations. With each one, I am reconnecting with family, friends and memories… it is not so much for the food itself, but the love that keeps coming back to me with every bite and aroma. Being able to share these dishes and their attendant memories, passing along the recipes, bringing past, present and future together in this way, is a joy… and joy is always ‘out of control’… but only in the very best of ways.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Reblogged this on Musings on Life & Experience and commented:
Sue is feeling out of control at times in fighting cancer.
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Oh, Sue 🤗
At least you’re still putting a positive spin in things.
🥰
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Not a lot of option, Ritu… Especially whe you never know from one minute to the next how many chins you happen to have 😀
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Bless you, Sue. Keep smiling 🤗
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Oh, I will 😀
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You’re an amazing and brave woman. I like that you’re finding things to take control of. Love and too you with lots of prayers for a complete recovery.
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Thanks, Sadje. There’s nothing brave about it… just plodding onwards 🙂
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Take care. Being positive and accepting takes courage. 💕
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The server is losing my posts. I’m tired of fighting with “the system.” Suffice to say you are in “The Treatment Tunnel.” You don’t get to leave until you exit the tunnel. And hair grows back, usually thicker and curlier than before. My other friend Sue call it her “post-cancer hair.”
Mine just went really thin. It looks okay, but it’s very fine, very thin, very fragile. It’s my old age hair.
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Mine went fine and flighty after having the boys… it would be nice if it came back thicker again. Any curlier, though, and it ill look like a 70s perm 😉
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You are brave and I know you will come out of it. I liked your positivity. 🤗💗
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Thanks, Anjali. 🙂
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I’m glad you are managing to find some positives, Sue and a little humour.
In our house, Anita is coping well with her restrictions, but like yours, her temper raises its head now and again when it all becomes too much. She has never had to play the waiting game for herself before…
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You both have my sympathy on that one… it isn’t easy on either side xx
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XX
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Reblogged this on Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie ~ Authors.
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Thank you for sharing xx
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I didn’t realise you had cancer, Sue, I’m so sorry. But you seem like a strong woman and you have access to healing energy, so there is every reason to be hopeful of a positive outcome. Sending you love. ❤
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It is a fairly recent discovery, Annabelle. Thank you … in chemo today again so we are getting to grips with it xx
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Pingback: Out of control..? #cancer — Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo – yazım'yazgısı (typography)
I’m glad you can still find pleasure in cooking and food, and that you can connect it with fond memories of better times. Bon courage!
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S many memories are made in kitchens 🙂
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Pingback: Out of control..? #cancer | Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo #Reblog #WordPressWednesday | Campbells World
Hi, Sue. Thanks for the update. Great to see you are still remaining positive, finding new outlets for your creativity; and, that your humour continues to flourish in your writing. Stay at it lass! Best Regards.
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Lass? That’s the best word of encouragement, Goff 🙂
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Cheers. Keep Fighting. Keep Smiling. Have a great day.
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You too, Goff.
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Thanks.
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Sending tons of cyber hugs and healing thoughts to you. ❤️
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Thank you, Paulette ❤
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So far, my hair has just got thinner – and as out of control as everything else in this new world of cancer and chemo. And I can’t even blame my temper squawks on steroids as I only take them for three days every three weeks. Hope all goes well today.
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Today could have gone so much better 😉
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I hope today is going better.
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It did…still a long one though…
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Your so right Sue keep hold of those reins even if they are only small. …small can mean so much! 💜💜💜
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You have captured so well why so many of us have turned to cooking to keep us going during the ups and downs of the pandemic. I’m glad you have that comfort in the uncertainty and turmoil of your illness. Keeping you in my thoughts, xo K.
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It makes so much difference to feel that connection…xx
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Being positive and determined is a great way to fight this nasty disease. It releases hormones and other things that are good for you!
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I need all the help I can get with that today 😉
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Your positive energy will bid you well. Finding joy in cooking is something I can relate too. Sending many hugs your way, I hope you can feel them through the screen. Love you.
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Thank you, Darlene… the support of friends does make so much difference … and you can feel it. x
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Oh Sue! What trials you’re going through – I totally get the control thing. And this blasted lockdown has put paid to any plans for the next month or so, too. However, you are a beacon of positivity, and I hope the chemo is going as well as can be expected. Sending love as always xx
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I had high hopes too… ah well, here will come a day and a lunch 😉 xx
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There will indeed! I live in hope (and a desire for triple-cooked chips) 😉 We’ll meet up soon xx
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That sounds good to me too… I wonder if you can get chips for breakfast? 😉
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I really do think chips are appropriate eating at any time of day 😉
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I am inclined to agree. Especially triple cooked 🙂
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😉
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Love your positivity Sue. Sending you healing hugs. The night may be dark but the dawn is always waiting to bring light.
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Always a new beginning, one way or another 😉 Thank you, Balroop.
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So hard, Sue, but thank you for sharing this journey of further self-discovery and the wisdom that you glean from it. It will make a difference. Food sounds like a wonderful foray into something within your control, and I hope that you’ve found a way to enjoy the taste as well as all the connections to love.
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Some of the tastes are starting to come back to normal… although after today and a raft of yet more drugs, who knows 😦
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I adore the thought of out-of-control joy. ❤ And this: 'I was out and about, after all, walking around and doing things, in good company and sunshine…' Perspective/shift in our thinking is so powerful. Thinking of you.
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It is easy to get down about things, especially in the heat of the moment, but it only does take that small shift to change how we see the world.
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I had a chuckle at this … ‘…this I could live without…’ Hmm, thought I, not so much … Even the commonest of phrases takes on a different meaning too, when our perspective changes. : )
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I did the same as I wrote it… humour takes on odd tones too 😉
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Heheheh : )
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😀
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I lost a lot of my hair when I had radiotherapy. It grew back about 3 months later, just as curly as it was before.
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I won’t be having radiotherapy… but the drugs seem to be doing the trick 🙂
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You are a very brave woman, whatever you say. Yes, you have no choice but to go onward and through this, but to continue with normal life as much as youbdo, and to keep writing your blogs takes courage.
Hugs. X
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If I’m not trying to live as normally as possible, there would be liitle point in going through the treatment 🙂 x
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Ahh… ❤ and hugs sent… It is so disconcerting to 'surrender' gracefully those quality of life things one wasn't quite fully aware of in impact, though one knew enough to expect them – I am mightily heartened to hear you have the strength & stamina to cook, and to spirit and appetite to walk past roads traveled while you eat – sending you many, many prayers, and love from from across the 'pond' – ❤
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Thanks, TamrahJo. No, we don’t notice so many of the little things till they come under threat… ❤
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I have no doubt the ‘Gates of the Universe” are being stormed in pleas, by many, on your behalf – you’ve only to walk your path as best you may while others hold the ‘plane’ for you – submitting to that which cannot be avoided is not surrender, which I’m sure you know and, well – I think of the line (Dylan Thomas?) “Do not go gently into that good night, rage rage against the dying of the light’ and well, swollen face and demolished hair do, is well worth some ‘roid rage’ to bolster your own efforts – If nothing else, enough rage to support you while you walk through the beauty of life – both past and present – – :). And I’ve ‘talked too long” – but, I still trust, no matter where you are at, or where you are at, you understand why and well – I see you in all grace – and trust you to find your way through the maze of options before you! ❤
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There are worse things than hair and chipmunk cheeks. Even on days like today…which was not a good day!… at least I lived it 🙂 xx
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Sue, you have my deepest admiration for your positive attitude and good humor while undergoing cancer treatment. We should all have such grace! Wishing you all the best — may you feel as well as possible in the days ahead.
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As long as I keep ‘feeling’ Betty, that will be a bonus 🙂
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Erudite post, Sue. Your close observance and analysis of your feelings about the myriad of changes and loss of control helps bring acceptance of those things you must let go of… and there is a lot of that, it seems. Precious little remains unchanged, I imagine. Every day must bring another adjustment and surrender, shrinking your world down to a day and moment at a time.
Sending you warm hugs as you face the next round. xo
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Thnaks,Eliza, you do not realise, until you stand to ‘lose’ them, just how many small things you still cling to. This has been…and will be…a learning curve for me. ugs x
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Hail to your joy, in all the ways you experience it! God Bless you, Sue. ❤
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You too, Annette! ❤
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Thinking of you Sue. Your positivity and sense of humour shine through. Enjoy the fruits of your cooking labours. ❤
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I amy as well, thanks to the steroids, I’m going to look as if I’ve benover-enjoying them anyway 😉 ❤
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Go for it! ❤
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Sending love and healing prayers… Thanks so much for sharing your journey and inspire us to find joy in the little things we CAN do. ❤ xo
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It isn’t always easy to find that bit of light..but so far, I find there always is something we can achieve, or in which we can find a little joy. ❤
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Sounds a little bit sad, but you are always finding the positive in the sadiest environment. Thats good, thats motivating, and will help to overcome this bad thing. Be blessed, stay save and keep smiling. Best wishes, Michael
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Thanks, Michael.I will do my very best 🙂
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Thank you in advance, Sue! 😉
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🙂
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Love your positivity Sue and your visiting old things and making them anew. You brought back memories of years ago when I was very ill and put on those crazy steroids. I literally couldn’t sleep and my face and body both felt like the Goodyear Blimp. A horrible drug, yet sometimes life-saving. Buy yourself some pretty scarves. ❤
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That’s pretty much ho I’m feeling and looking, Debby… and just as I was weaning myself off them, they’ve aded extra ones and other ones to the mix too… 😦
I may need a Carmen Miranda turban to cheer me up 😉 ❤
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LOLLLLLLLLL, don’t forget to add the fruit! 🙂 xoxo
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Oh no…I won’t 😉 xx
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🙂 🙂 xx
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All of this is uncharted territory. You’re so brave, Sue. Grace under fire. I send you love and many hugs. ❤️❤️❤️
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It is definitely an adventure… 😉 Hugs, Colleen. ❤
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Hugs back, Sue. 💙💙💙
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how wonderful to have those food-related memories. glad to hear you got up to Oxford; we loved our day trip there a couple of years ago…
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It has a long and fascinating history… just a shame all the churches are closed at the moement.
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that is a shame that the churches are closed…
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A tragedy, Jim.
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Food is so important in my household. I grew up with mum planning what we would eat each day. She’d greet me at breakfast having already planned or even cooked our evening meal. It’s in her Malaysian culture to love food. So I appreciate that comfort that food brings. Mum was and still is a brilliant cook better than any restaurant!
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It wa like that in France too… the table is still the heart of he home and family.Something we seem to be losing here, sadly.
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*hugs*
And Lilie and Logan send puppy kisses.
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Hugs back to you all, Tori xx
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I have so much admiration for you Sue…it seems that no matter what life throws at you that once you have digested it you fight back…Cooking is a wonderful leveller and always holds precious memories…Enjoy! Sending love and blessings 🙂 x
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I am taking a good deal of pleasure in revisiting old recipes and their attendant memories, Carol. There is something infinitely comforting about the smell of a warm kitchen that is busy feeding folk… especially with the non-necessary things like cakes 😉
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Tell me about.. I am off the cakes, bread and pies this month and no sundowners… The result this morning is 4lb off.. Xx
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I prefer baking cakes to eating them… and don’t usually have much. But, just as present, I’m being told to eat and keep my strength up…
So, I’m hoping that I can get off all the steroids they are shoving at me… then I might be able to lose a bit too! 😉
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I don’t eat a lot of them I think it has just been the culuminative total over a few months…sigh xx
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I’m just blaming the steroids… I’ve ballooned over a few short weeks. xx
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They do that…but if they work its a small price to pay…xxx it soon drops off when you stop xx
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I hope so… ’cause I look like the Michelin man at present 😉 xx
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Oh I’m sure you don’t, Sue…beauty is in the eye of the beholder and your natural beauty will shine through regardless xxx
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Oh yes I do… and I’d like to be able to reach my feetlike I could a couple of weeks ago 😉 xx
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All I can say is very beautiful post, and all the best wishes.
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Thank you.
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😇🙏💙
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I didn’t realize …you keep on keeping on you! Hugs n stuff !
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A relatively recent development, Michael. And a bit of a bugger. Hugs.
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My goodness!! You write so the reader is ‘there’, completely understanding and feeling all of you. Thank you for letting us in. Yes, finding something you can control. And discovering the joy of reliving memories through old recipes. Bless you, Sue!
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I’m really enjoying the cooking and baking, something I have dne little of since all the boys moved out. Cooking just for yourself is not quite the same, but I find my sons seem quite happy to take delivery of the odd lemon meringue pie or apple cake 😉
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That is a warm smile for me. Thank you!
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🙂
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You are correct, Sue about being in control when everything else is outwith your control. My Mum was given a wheelchair so my daughter and I could take her out. The town she lived in was on the coast so some beautiful walks except for the pavements. They were in dire straights and trying to navigate the wheelchair was horrendous. My daughter and I were arguing one day about who was to push “Nana” when my Mum got out of the wheelchair and said. “I’ll ruddywell walk myself.” I can smile at this incident now as my Mum took control and walked herself, slowly but surely. Goddess bless you, Sue, huge hugs. ❤
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Bless her, that’s the kind of stubborn I recognise, Adele 😀 ❤
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The oxygen tank must be very difficult, Sue. Thank goodness I didn’t have to manage that with my mom. Her hair also lasted for about three chemo treatments and then she suddenly lost it all. We then cut all her hair off. I bought her a wig but she didn’t like it and chose to wear a headscarf. My mom rested a great deal during her treatments, especially for the first few days, but then she also used to get up and she liked to cook. The doctor said cooking and baking were very therapeutic for cancer patients.
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The tank is a pain, although I don’t need it all the time. The machine has me nicely tethered at home though when I have to use it. I do have a few tufts of hair left… not enough to go without a scarf…
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