15th December 2007

I was out last night when my friend Jo introduced me to a lady who has just been diagnosed with breast cancer and will be having a mastectomy on January 2nd.  What a way to pass Christmas and start the new year…  Jo told the lady she was sure I’d talk to her if she needed to but the lady isn’t ready to talk to other cancer birds yet.  I remember not wanting to talk about it with other cancer people at first, you have to believe you have cancer first.  I still have moments of denial!

I received a message on MySpace recently from someone who has been writing to me ever since my diagnosis.  His messages usually make me laugh loudly but this time his message contained just 3 words: “Are you ok?”.  I didn’t know how to answer it without telling a huge white lie so I didn’t, sorry Robbie.  I used to live in France and over there it would be a different story.  If you ever asked a French person the same question you would still be there two days later listening to their health issues and by then you would know their blood pressure, iron levels, family history and bowel habits.  It’s so English to answer, “I’m fine, thanks” when someone asks how you are but the French are serious, unashamed and honest when it comes to their health.  I once remember a friend who was alarmed at seeing an emergency medical helicopter land nearby and seeing his neighbour air-ambulanced away.  We lived in the sticks and the neighbour had apparently suffered severe chest pains so they sent a helicopter out quick.  2 days later the friend was surprised to see the neighbour out working on his garden.  Concerned, he asked him how he was and the neighbour replied unembarrassed, “Ahhhh, c’est du gaz”.  (It was wind).

I’ll be ok but either the drugs are making me feel down, (hormone stuff), or it’s the time of year or maybe even a combination of the two because I don’t feel ok at the moment.  I wake up and wish I had my own family so I could make mince pies for them and have big family arguments over Christmas.  There must be a lot of people out there feeling a bit wobbly at Christmas.  Keep your chin up people, it’s only Christmas.  I’m ashamed to say I made my mum cry on the phone the other day.  She said she was choking on a tortilla chip and I believed her.  My brother told me later she’d been crying.  I feel guilty so about this.  I don’t really tell people when I’m feeling down, I just burden my poor mum.  I know it will come right.  It’s just part of the rollercoaster ride.

I’m looking forward to Christmas and having a rest though – putting my feet up and eating some non organic mince pies.  I’ve been getting out there training hard for my motor bike test in some pretty parky and miserable weather.  My good friend, Is, sent me some heat pads that I slip inside my gloves to stop my fingers dropping off.  My training progress is like playing golf; one day you think you’ve got it, the next, you think you’ll never master it.  Now don’t mention the U turns!!  Last time I reported, I had a puncture at 70 mph so I’ve been looking out for mechanical problems.  Sure enough, this time, I could smell burning as we set off from Derby for Nottingham.  I was just wondering if the bike might be about to explode in flames, (overactive imagination, Lou), when a voice over the intercom said, “Pull over Lou when you can.”  It turns out I had sprung a leak from the coolant liquid thingy so we had to turn around and take bike no. 1 back to Derby.  Setting off on bike no. 2, we were just nearing Nottingham, (our destination), when the other student got a puncture, (fortunately we were riding in slow traffic this time), so again we had to head back to Derby to fetch another bike.   I rode pillion back with the instructor, (bike no. 3), and gave the student my bike.  We finally set off for Nottingham again with me on bike no. 4 and arrived in time for the other student’s bike test.  Unfortunately, he put his foot down doing the U turn and failed.  It was like ground hog day.

Flipping U turns… the instructor says the U turn only features in the test to ‘up’ the failure rate. They are very difficult to do and I am having major problems mastering them.  My test is now imminent and my bowels are beginning to make strange noises.  On my last lesson, I finally mastered the tricky U turns on the flat road and the instructor decided to take me to practice on the road used in the test.  It has a camber on it and makes throttle control much more tricky.  I did 3 U turns, putting my foot down each time, (a fail in the test), and finally fell off the bike on the 4th in spectacular fashion trapping my leg underneath it.  I was worried I’d done something serious to myself at first but it was only the brake that was broken and not a part of my body.  It was a costly error though as I had to pay for the breakage.  At present I rate my chance of passing this test as… low.  The nerves are going to play a big part in it and I’m feeling under pressure to pass after all the training I’ve been given.  There was a lady at the school the other day buying doughnuts to celebrate passing – it was her seventh attempt.  Gulp.  We’re supposed to be setting off round Europe in April!  Got to pass, got to pass!…  Think 3 B’s: deep Breaths, Belief and Bowel control.   

1st December 2007

I swing between feeling incredibly lucky and amazed that we found my cancer so early and the anger and disbelief that I got cancer as a younger woman, especially as I’ve always been so health conscious.  I’m still having hot flushes but I hope they’ll stop soon.  If not I’ll be having them for the 2 years of the Zoladex treatment I’m having and I assume they’ll come back when I get the real menopause later in life!  I think some of the flushes may be caused by the Department of Work and Pensions though.  They have been bombarding me with various forms to fill in and recently a phone call telling me I needed to attend a health interview.  I informed them at the beginning of October and several times by phone and letter since that I’m not claiming any benefits as I’m in full time study.  However, there seems to be a huge communication problem between departments.  It would be laughable but some of these letters are quite threatening in nature and as I haven’t done anything wrong, (and I worked part-time throughout my treatment, receiving about £37 a month from them for a few months), I’m feeling a bit miffed about it all.  It was difficult financially during this time and I owe money to various people as a result.  Your letters rub salt into the wound DWP!

D day is coming…. I have booked a date for my motorbike test but I’m not saying when it is!  Ali’s lessons are still on hold whilst we find a solution to her leg length, (the search is on for a lower bike so she can plant her tiny feet safely on the ground whilst sitting on the bike).  My lessons were going well until last Saturday, when after only 30 minutes of riding and only 5 miles from our destination, the lesson ended abruptly.

Here’s what happened…  I had an early start from the Nottingham School to ride to the Derby School and pick up another learner.  Colin, (the instructor), and I set off at 8am and the cold hit me straight away, (despite my outdoors gear and thermal vest).  It was the coldest day we have had so far this winter.  My usual lucky no. 1 bike was not available and I didn’t feel comfortable as my porridge was still weighing heavy in my stomach.  Forgetting at first to put my visor all the way down, my eyes soon began to stream from the rush of cold air and my hands were numb after 10 minutes. 

We were nearing Derby, bombing along the A52 and doing 70mph when the usual black thoughts popped into my head; ‘Well, Lou you’re at the mercy of this bike.  I wonder what would happen now if there was some sort of mechanical failure – you’re bound to die you know…’  And just as I was about to overtake a line of cars and before my overactive mind could embellish my thinking with gory details, Colin spoke to me over the intercom: “Slow down, Lou, slow riiiiight down…”  Now, if you are going to have a scary experience on a motorbike, you would want Colin to be by your side.  He is very vigilant about your driving and is calm in a crisis, (he has already had to cope with Ali falling off the bike at a petrol station and traffic lights).  Despite his calmness, I could hear the concern in his voice as he said, “I think you have a puncture, your back tyre is going down.”  It was at this point that I began to notice something strange myself about the back tyre and the handling of the bike.

I’m not sure if I was thinking straight as I think I stopped breathing for a while but I decided to break very gently and move down the gears.  I could feel the bike was unstable.  As if by magic, a slip road appeared on our left and thankfully I was moving slowly enough to leave the dual carriageway by it.  We came to a halt around the corner by which time my back tyre was as flat as a pancake.  I was cold and spooked, the porridge was still undigested and starting to do a rumba in my stomach and I began to come over all queer!  Parking the bike safely, I climbed weakly off it and sat down on a wall but this didn’t help.  I was feeling faint and pretty nauseous by now.  Now, I have fainted many times during my life; I’m very good at it.  Apparently, I have low blood pressure which is very healthy on the whole but leaves you prone to the odd, embarrassing faint.

I know from experience that the only solution is to lie flat on my back at such times with my legs in the air.  I know this because I’ve ended up in casualty a couple of times by attempting to stay standing.  Once I even ‘came round’ in the arms of a Saint John’s ambulance man in a club, after a New Year’s kiss on tip toe with a devastatingly handsome young man ended in a faint!  When I came round, I was most disappointed to see the handsome young man had turned into a large, balding man in uniform asking me if I had been taking drugs which of course I hadn’t.  It was only the beer and my kissing gymnastics that stopped the blood from reaching my head temporarily and caused a faint. 

Anyway back to the story, there I was lying flat on my back on a pavement just outside of Derby, wearing my full motorbike gear and helmet, (looking like a small burnt match), with Colin holding my legs aloft in the air.  Apparently, some woman passer by thought I was dead.  Sorry, to have worried you lady, (and the other people who slowed down in their cars).  Finally, the blood returned to my head and my porridge settled.  When the Calvary arrived to look after the bikes, we were able to continue to Derby with me riding pillion on Colin’s bike.  I had several hot cups of tea at the school but was unable to continue the lesson as 2 other bikes were also off the road.  When my bike arrived later the tyre was pumped up and we inspected the puncture.  There was a large hole where the air was gushing out.  “How unlucky was that?!!” I asked Colin, peering at the hole.  “Actually Lou, you can consider yourself very lucky; nothing bad happened.”  I guess he is right but I can’t help feeling the grim reaper is somewhere over my shoulder!

All in all, the experience was a useful one to have had and ended with more good luck.  I was given a lift home by a guy who has offered us support with our riding and possibly his services as mechanic on our trip around Europe which is fantastic!  A raffle held by Choice Interiors this week also raised £1000 for our charities which is just brilliant.  The Community Nurses where I work have jokingly offered their first aid skills to us too.  Now we just need a 4 by 4 to follow us.

Move over Boorman and McGregor!  You don’t have to be famous to organise a charity motorbike trip!  The ‘Long, Hard Way Down’ is coming!  It’s going to be hairy and eventful too!!