My head isn't feeling so bad tonight, and I feel optimistic that I'll sleep better tonight than last night.
We had a good weekend - I woke up feeling more rested than recently on both Saturday and Sunday, and although I felt a little grumpy, I discovered that feeling grumpy gives me enough energy to feel able to tackle some of the clutter piles that have been waiting for my attention. Getting even a little clutter sorted was a very satisfying experience.
We bought a fold-down wall-mounted clothesline on Saturday, and Ben and David mounted it to the laundry wall, along with the optional awning, so we now have somewhere convenient and undercover to hang out the washing, rather than the clothes horse that we've been using the last 6 years. There is a removable rotary clothes line in the top garden, but it doesn't rotate properly because it hits some shrubs. We only use it rarely because it's a long way from the laundry, getting to it involves watching out for Ginny's deposits on the lawn, and there is a thick carpet of periwinkles and some blackberries growing under it. So I'm excited about having 24 m of line just outside the back door in a sunny spot, and the prospect of removing the old line, ripping out the periwinkle and blackberry, and converting that patch to a new vegetable garden. It will also give us somewhere to plant the mulberry tree (bliss on a tree!)
I'm wondering if I was getting a little depressed about my GBM diagnosis in the last months of last year. In hindsight, I realise I was beginning to doubt if life was worth living, I was feeling pessimistic about the future, and I was feeling increasingly guilty and self-punitive about perceived failures to uphold the excessively high and obsessional standards I set for myself. I was worried that my children would not have good memories of me if I were to die in the next few years, and although I could understand that I had every right to be angry, irritable, grumpy, distracted, or sad about the crappy luck I've had with health over the past 2 years, I didn't want to make excuses for myself, and wanted to rise out of the quagmire of fear and self-criticism that sometimes bogged me down.
Having had this third tumour has helped me develop a new way of looking at things, and to be mindful and appreciative of the way I've dealt with it.
I've realised that I generally have a very optimistic, appreciative, and positive way of looking at current and future events, and that I need to hold onto the bright, white light that this brings me, and to hold onto the hope and faith that things will always be better in the future.Things are pretty good now, and could be far worse, and there is much to look forward to. I've been blessed with loving friends and family, and with living in a country and an age where health, education, welfare, and opportunities for a fair society are much better than they have been at many times in the past, or in other countries. Filling my heart with gratitude and joy for all the good things in life is helping me keep away from the swampy ground of fear and worry, and I'm hopeful that this year will be the start of many more years of good health to come.
I've also decided to view my GBMs as individual brain tumours, and not to think of them in the context of cancer. Before I had breast cancer and then the first two GBMs, I used to think of brain tumours as being isolated things that grew in the brain, of varying levels of malignancy. I knew the malignant or highly aggressive ones could come back and had poor prognoses, but I didn't realise that they could be multifocal (like my GBMs), and I didn't know that chemotherapy was available for them - I thought they were treated with surgery (remove the tumour) and sometimes radiotherapy. So I didn't really think of brain tumours as being a form of cancer, which was very helpful in dealing with them when I first had them.
Now that I know more about cancer gives me a wider range of options for reducing my risk of recurrence - eliminating sugar from my diet, boosting the health of my immune system, making my body more alkaline, less acidic, and better oxygenated and hydrated will make it a less hospitable place for cancer. Along with the many other dietary and natural supplements that are available, plus exercise, mediation, and other lifestyle factors.
So I'm going to think of my brain tumours as being analogous to thistles in my garden. I need to keep a watchful eye for new plants, and to remove them when they grow. If they're left too long, they can ruin the garden. There are possibly a number of seeds lying dormant, under the soil, waiting to germinate, so I need to make the growing conditions inhospitable for new growth, and to continue to keep a watchful eye for any changes. I hope I'll be able to keep the garden clear of thistles forever, now that this last one has been removed. I will seek second opinions from other neurosurgeons and radiologists to ensure that all potential seedlings are benign.
Must sleep again now, I think it will be a good night for sleeping.
