Number 39

Part One………..

Things to do after cancer treatment – life shuffle.

As I drew near to end of both my pregnancies, I nested. Not intentionally, it just happened. I stocked my cupboards with endless cleaning products & toilet roll, filled the freezer with pre-cooked meals, washed, folded & ironed masses of baby clothes, bedding and blankets. As both my babies were born on the run up to the winter solstice, I planned and prepped for winter celebrations and generally pottered about preparing my little world for the arrival of new life.

When my mother became aware that her life was coming to an end, she sort of nested in reverse. I am not aware it was all intentional but she started to “put her affairs in order” as it were. It involved a lot of throwing things out. Much to the horror of my father, who rescued a multitude of discarded objects and squirrelled them away in one of his many sheds. I think she was preparing her family for a world where her physical presence had ceased to be.

When the dust started to settle after the active cancer treatment, I found myself doing a mixture of my pregnancy nesting and my mothers end of life sorting. It was about a year down the line before I realised what I was doing. So much got thrown out. The clothes I wore during chemo, bits and pieces that I was keeping just in case. Friends that started to creep back into my life, having been absent during treatment but who was “oh so glad I was in the mend” (I admit to some serious ghosting here but that’s a story for another day).

I needed to move on from the life that was cancer treatment, as much as I could. I got a new job, changed my car, my phone, handed bags of perfectly good things to charity. At the same time, I started planning, preparing myself for my new, post cancer life.

One day, our neighbours built a garden wall. Not a pretty reclaimed brick wall, a dark grey breeze block wall. A wall that seemed oppressive, that wasn’t straight, with bits of metal protruding haphazardly from the top, with holes where cement should have been and looked like it would fall down if the wind got up. It made my soul sad and my husband cross (because it poorly constructed and he – as in the husband, is a perfectionist)

So we sold the house. We up sticks and moved to the other side of the county, from our lovely house in an awful area to a house that needs a lot of love, in a better area. Where we can’t hear the ever present police sirens, the constant drone of cars and I don’t walk the dog in the morning through the litter ridden streets to the ever present faint aroma of weed and red stripe.

So hello number 39. It’s going to be an adventure, we have stuff to do but you are going to be well loved – I have plans!

Much love xx