Dear sisters,
During my treatment for breast cancer, I had great ideas about this wig party I was going to organize to celebrate the end of therapy. Everyone would come wearing outlandish wigs, except me, I would be swishing my beautiful newly grown manes, in a swishy blue dress to match. We would dance to the scissor sisters all night.
When it did actually end, I was happy –really - I knew I was happy in my head, but I did not feel it much in my body. A party was the last thing I wanted. Having come out the other side having put back the 7 kilos I lost here, feeling stiff and rickety, hot and flustered, I was not doing much dancing.
The small world I had been inhabiting for eight months suddenly became very large again.
It felt as if I had been dropped by my doctors and nurses onto the middle of a busy freeway intersection, with the message” You’re done now. Off you go”. My dearest and nearest were understandably happy to be relieved of their duties. The only one there with me was a horrible little man, sitting in my head, shouting obscenities like” HEY, do you know you had a potentially fatal disease? You are not immortal, do you realize that? Not like all your healthy friends, who are all going to live forever. THINK ABOUT IT. “ Hey, you feel PAIN? … it could be cancer…huh, huh, nudge, nudge. ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT IT?
Yes, I was thinking about it. Every little pain could be the sign that IT had returned. I had big arguments with the little man in my head. Especially this pain in my ankle, which keeps coming and going. It feels like a pinched nerve or an inflamed tendon, but the little man made me look up things up on the internet –– and it said metastasized breast cancer in the bone feels like a burning sensation, it comes and goes etc. You see, this is what it was!
But I have just had my 6 monthly tests, a mammogram, a bone density scan, follow up with the radioligist, I discussed my aches and pains. Everything looked normal. My ankle pain is definitely not cancer, they said. With conviction. So I am okay for a bit and now the little man in my head looks a little silly, doesn’t he?
It will hopefully just be a question of physical therapy for a few months and a new pot of pills. But no running for a while. No boot camp. I joined a sports club with an outdoor pool on the roof overlooking the city. I need to keep my view.
Love S1
Friday, September 5, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
A story in three bells
Or: A bell full of summers
Dear sisters,
The other week, it was a Saturday, something happened to me. I am reminded of it by a crystal glass that looks like an elegant clear-cut grail that you’d drink pearls melted in wine out of, it is my special wineglass when I am at home - except when there are certain special guests who also have a dispensation on the smoking ban, such as our dear Mother, because then the special guest gets to drink out of it - when I tap against this glass, it sounds like a clear, crystal bell. One could imagine what an organ of these things would sound like but we will leave it at the single tone, if we remember Arvo Pärt’s lesson of yesterday. So this bell reminds me of a day that three bells unexpectedly and quite spontaneously came into my life.
The first, on my computer; I don’t know who put it there, but when I move it, or start certain programmes, different ones each time, it goes drrrring, in a way which reminds me of childhood, as we have since become plagued by many other, different tones doing service as bells. I have shaken my computer and it won’t budge, nor will it tell me who put the bell there. It is a mystery.
That same night, I went to meet the friendly Czech puppeteers. One of them disappeared for a while, to go to the tent he said, to check everything was ok. Later that night after a few drinks I took my brand new bicycle and saw to my astonishment that the aliens had landed! They had planted a huge, bulbous gleaming bell, looking like a shiny mushroom on my right handle bar. Two notes: ding…dung… sounding like a baritone ship bell in bicycle bell equivalent, making a downward minor third interval. The first two notes of “Hey Jude”. Needless to say this is what I now sing OUT LOUD (how else can you do this?) whenever I ride my bicycle and it could be heard all the way home as I cycled back that night in the drizzly rain. Woe to the sleepy people of Antwerp. Believe me, when all is quiet sound travels in this town. I find it hard not to ring my bell even when I don't need to, although it has a clear but ever so slightly melancholy, er...ring to it.
The third bell, well, I woke up in the morning, and suddenly heard a high-pitched ringing in my ears. It is very faint, very light. I don’t know who put it there and I hope it goes away. It must have been the loud music of a few days before. Some people go crazy from such ringing in their ears. I shall consult my recently re-found friend E. of times past who has since metamorphosed into a specialist on the subject and is researching the subject here in Antwerp. That will be a good excuse anyway to meet up again after the pleasant reunion we had.
That was the three unexpected bells. It has a little tail too. The day after the puppeteers had left Antwerp, after gracing us with their presence a full summer long, my roommate N. received…
...a bicycle bell in the post. Someone, not an alien, or a Czech puppeteer, she assured me, had accidentally broken her bell; this was a special gift. A closing note to the special summer that had me wishing for a request on an organ at the former monastery up in Holland that the organist couldn’t play because he didn’t have the music with him, only to hear it, after the ice-cream van had quietened down, tinkling on the carillon outside my house as soon as I arrived home. Strange and amazing and beautiful, sounding symmetry.
My heart is like a bell. Now I just need to find a way to make it ring.
Love from S2
Dear sisters,
The other week, it was a Saturday, something happened to me. I am reminded of it by a crystal glass that looks like an elegant clear-cut grail that you’d drink pearls melted in wine out of, it is my special wineglass when I am at home - except when there are certain special guests who also have a dispensation on the smoking ban, such as our dear Mother, because then the special guest gets to drink out of it - when I tap against this glass, it sounds like a clear, crystal bell. One could imagine what an organ of these things would sound like but we will leave it at the single tone, if we remember Arvo Pärt’s lesson of yesterday. So this bell reminds me of a day that three bells unexpectedly and quite spontaneously came into my life.
The first, on my computer; I don’t know who put it there, but when I move it, or start certain programmes, different ones each time, it goes drrrring, in a way which reminds me of childhood, as we have since become plagued by many other, different tones doing service as bells. I have shaken my computer and it won’t budge, nor will it tell me who put the bell there. It is a mystery.
That same night, I went to meet the friendly Czech puppeteers. One of them disappeared for a while, to go to the tent he said, to check everything was ok. Later that night after a few drinks I took my brand new bicycle and saw to my astonishment that the aliens had landed! They had planted a huge, bulbous gleaming bell, looking like a shiny mushroom on my right handle bar. Two notes: ding…dung… sounding like a baritone ship bell in bicycle bell equivalent, making a downward minor third interval. The first two notes of “Hey Jude”. Needless to say this is what I now sing OUT LOUD (how else can you do this?) whenever I ride my bicycle and it could be heard all the way home as I cycled back that night in the drizzly rain. Woe to the sleepy people of Antwerp. Believe me, when all is quiet sound travels in this town. I find it hard not to ring my bell even when I don't need to, although it has a clear but ever so slightly melancholy, er...ring to it.
The third bell, well, I woke up in the morning, and suddenly heard a high-pitched ringing in my ears. It is very faint, very light. I don’t know who put it there and I hope it goes away. It must have been the loud music of a few days before. Some people go crazy from such ringing in their ears. I shall consult my recently re-found friend E. of times past who has since metamorphosed into a specialist on the subject and is researching the subject here in Antwerp. That will be a good excuse anyway to meet up again after the pleasant reunion we had.
That was the three unexpected bells. It has a little tail too. The day after the puppeteers had left Antwerp, after gracing us with their presence a full summer long, my roommate N. received…
...a bicycle bell in the post. Someone, not an alien, or a Czech puppeteer, she assured me, had accidentally broken her bell; this was a special gift. A closing note to the special summer that had me wishing for a request on an organ at the former monastery up in Holland that the organist couldn’t play because he didn’t have the music with him, only to hear it, after the ice-cream van had quietened down, tinkling on the carillon outside my house as soon as I arrived home. Strange and amazing and beautiful, sounding symmetry.
My heart is like a bell. Now I just need to find a way to make it ring.
Love from S2
Monday, September 1, 2008
Of Grass and Flowers
Dear sisters,
Here is a beautiful piece of music described by its Estonian composer, Arvo Pärt. I enjoy his music very much, it calms me down no end. This passage is particularly good because it includes the music of another language as well as a look at the simple melodies...
Love from S2
Here is a beautiful piece of music described by its Estonian composer, Arvo Pärt. I enjoy his music very much, it calms me down no end. This passage is particularly good because it includes the music of another language as well as a look at the simple melodies...
Love from S2
Saturday, August 30, 2008
When parenting becomes a little harder
The six year old son has decided that the best sound to make repeatedly and unannounced, is a combination of a burp and growl coming up from the pit of his stomach. It is supposed to represent something Pokemon, he has told me. He may or may not combine this with his "dribbling saliva out of the mouth" trick. When you ask him to stop, and tell him that it is rather disgusting in fact, he looks you in the eye, moves a little closer, and with a big grin pushes that extra globule of spit through his teeth. He does it in public too.
Jip is stubborn, a streak he has perfected over the summer. Unless notified three days beforehand in writing of a deviation from the (holiday) routine, he will, at any given moment, cross his arms, spread his legs and glare at you, refusing to budge. This could take place anywhere from the supermarket, the car or on the stairs up to the bedroom. The "all right, I'm going without you" ploy no longer makes an impression.
Jip is bored. Everything is boring. In his opinion there can’t be much more to life. God forbid, playing outside in the fresh air. Now that he is six he has seen it all, pretty much. School is boring, he does not want to practice reading 15 minutes a day because it is boring. He sees no added advantage to being able to read his own Pokemon cards or the instruction to video games. And no, he has no problem with me reading to him for the rest of his life. He doesn’t like people either. He doesn’t like anyone, he says (to which Rosie answers “but I like YOU..”) Only his friends at school are okay. They like Pokemon and Bakugan (the latest mind numbing craze) too.
The one thing Jip can get excited about is spending money. Since he gets $1 pocket money a week and sometimes money for doing jobs, he has a wallet and counts the contents continiously. He has shown no inclination to save, which he must get from his father. Walgreens or Target are his current favorite stores. Any outing is marked by the new thing he really, REALLY wants and has he got enough to pay for it?
"You are not the boss of my body" Jip says as I request him to brush his teeth, and remains lounging on the floor.
Jip has reduced the number of vegetables he will eat voluntarily from four to one. He likes spinach, he could eat spinach everyday. To my knowledge, spinach should not be eaten everyday, due to the high nitrate content. This is unfortunate.
The relationship between Jip and Rosie has moved into cooler waters, or rather it has heated up. Rosie likes to place herself in front of the television Jip is watching, with her nose pressed to the screen, removing the view. Rosie likes to walks through Jip’s carefully laid out and sorted Pokemon cards. Rosie likes to grab an essential part of Jip's battle construction and run. It will end in pinching (Rosie), arm twisting (Jip), on occasion spitting, hitting or kicking, accompanied by lots of shouting and screaming. The "she pinched me for no reason" is a familiar cry.
Rosie, locally known as "the girl with chocolate on her face" has developed a nuanced feeling for language. When I say NO she hears “Please carry on with what you are doing” Sometimes she will hear, "Not only carry on, but you could do it a bit louder?" In context "No" can also mean "Hit me hard" or "Stamp your feet." "No" turns out to be the international sign for "run and do it quickly". Other phrases with various meaning are "Hurry up" and "Come here."
So where am I, the parent, in all this going on? Cowering in a corner usually, standing next to my patience and sense of humor, seeing all the best pactices in parenting flash before me, just before my fuse fizzles out and I raise my voice to a shrill pitch, or throw in a bribe, knowing full well this is not going to do ANYTHING to relieve the situation.
But I am sure the end of summer, in which J and R were dragged around for weeks on end, the start of school, to which mother joyfully skipped again this week, and the return of routine, (some) rules and three organic meals a day, will do a lot to bring out the best in everyone once more.
Back in town, we are listening to this song, keeping our cool during a mini SF heat wave. This cd being the latest addition to my car collection.
Love,
S1
Jip is stubborn, a streak he has perfected over the summer. Unless notified three days beforehand in writing of a deviation from the (holiday) routine, he will, at any given moment, cross his arms, spread his legs and glare at you, refusing to budge. This could take place anywhere from the supermarket, the car or on the stairs up to the bedroom. The "all right, I'm going without you" ploy no longer makes an impression.
Jip is bored. Everything is boring. In his opinion there can’t be much more to life. God forbid, playing outside in the fresh air. Now that he is six he has seen it all, pretty much. School is boring, he does not want to practice reading 15 minutes a day because it is boring. He sees no added advantage to being able to read his own Pokemon cards or the instruction to video games. And no, he has no problem with me reading to him for the rest of his life. He doesn’t like people either. He doesn’t like anyone, he says (to which Rosie answers “but I like YOU..”) Only his friends at school are okay. They like Pokemon and Bakugan (the latest mind numbing craze) too.
The one thing Jip can get excited about is spending money. Since he gets $1 pocket money a week and sometimes money for doing jobs, he has a wallet and counts the contents continiously. He has shown no inclination to save, which he must get from his father. Walgreens or Target are his current favorite stores. Any outing is marked by the new thing he really, REALLY wants and has he got enough to pay for it?
"You are not the boss of my body" Jip says as I request him to brush his teeth, and remains lounging on the floor.
Jip has reduced the number of vegetables he will eat voluntarily from four to one. He likes spinach, he could eat spinach everyday. To my knowledge, spinach should not be eaten everyday, due to the high nitrate content. This is unfortunate.
The relationship between Jip and Rosie has moved into cooler waters, or rather it has heated up. Rosie likes to place herself in front of the television Jip is watching, with her nose pressed to the screen, removing the view. Rosie likes to walks through Jip’s carefully laid out and sorted Pokemon cards. Rosie likes to grab an essential part of Jip's battle construction and run. It will end in pinching (Rosie), arm twisting (Jip), on occasion spitting, hitting or kicking, accompanied by lots of shouting and screaming. The "she pinched me for no reason" is a familiar cry.
Rosie, locally known as "the girl with chocolate on her face" has developed a nuanced feeling for language. When I say NO she hears “Please carry on with what you are doing” Sometimes she will hear, "Not only carry on, but you could do it a bit louder?" In context "No" can also mean "Hit me hard" or "Stamp your feet." "No" turns out to be the international sign for "run and do it quickly". Other phrases with various meaning are "Hurry up" and "Come here."
So where am I, the parent, in all this going on? Cowering in a corner usually, standing next to my patience and sense of humor, seeing all the best pactices in parenting flash before me, just before my fuse fizzles out and I raise my voice to a shrill pitch, or throw in a bribe, knowing full well this is not going to do ANYTHING to relieve the situation.
But I am sure the end of summer, in which J and R were dragged around for weeks on end, the start of school, to which mother joyfully skipped again this week, and the return of routine, (some) rules and three organic meals a day, will do a lot to bring out the best in everyone once more.
Back in town, we are listening to this song, keeping our cool during a mini SF heat wave. This cd being the latest addition to my car collection.
Love,
S1
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A song i like to sing to the cows in the fields
Hello all
A little favourite song of mine from my at the moment favourite funny comedy show " The Mighty Boosh" I discovered them in the mountains of Czech Republic this summer.
They were hiding in a cave.
The theme of the song might not be very appropriate for this time of year
but the cows here love hearing it again and again
and i look at it as a preparation before returning to the winter months of the dark continent. Please notice the striking red shiny outfit. Hint hint something we could all be treated to ! Here it is ,
ENJOY
All my Love
S3
A little favourite song of mine from my at the moment favourite funny comedy show " The Mighty Boosh" I discovered them in the mountains of Czech Republic this summer.
They were hiding in a cave.
The theme of the song might not be very appropriate for this time of year
but the cows here love hearing it again and again
and i look at it as a preparation before returning to the winter months of the dark continent. Please notice the striking red shiny outfit. Hint hint something we could all be treated to ! Here it is ,
ENJOY
All my Love
S3
Saturday, August 16, 2008
music to share
Dear Sisters,
So short after parting, a post. I don't have many words but some music to share.
It is quite mournful, but let this not mislead you; I am in great spirits! So here it is, Pergolesi's Stabat Mater, sung by Andreas Scholl and Barbara Bonney; enjoy.
Love from S2 in Antwerp
So short after parting, a post. I don't have many words but some music to share.
It is quite mournful, but let this not mislead you; I am in great spirits! So here it is, Pergolesi's Stabat Mater, sung by Andreas Scholl and Barbara Bonney; enjoy.
Love from S2 in Antwerp
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)