GRATITUDE

I know my previous blog said this one would be about music, but I want to give some gratitude first.

No, I haven’t joined a twelve-step programme, although on reflection, maybe there should be something similar in terms of global fraternity, for cancer sufferers and survivors. But I’ve called this blog gratitude because I’ve been truly moved by the responses of so many people when they have heard about my diagnosis. Some, I know well and are family and close friends. Others are men and women who I have known in the past – either personal friends with whom I’ve lost touch, or those I have worked with over the decades. Then there are some who are strangers, but who have read this blog and found it helpful. To you all, from the bottom of my heart I say, thank you.

In so many respects, this experience has been a humbling one. I always thought I was so independent and self-sufficient. I’ve perceived myself as being the one to help others and provide solutions, and don’t let’s forget about Susan’s invincibility! Cancer has turned all these daft and frankly overly self-important ideas on their head. Susan is vulnerable, at times needy and … oh yes, HUMAN. What a damn surprise all this is. 😊

I’ve already given a credit to my GP Practice, but I want to do so again. Apart from my personal GP Dr Jessica Baron, I had a call last week from the Managing Partner, Jonathan Levy, to say how sorry he was to hear of my diagnosis. Jonathan used to be my husband, Tim’s, personal GP and was quite extraordinary with him. He visited Tim at home and later in the hospice – just for a chat. He always phoned me later to say how much he enjoyed his visits and how much he learned from Tim about art, design, architecture, and you name it. (Tim was a designer.) But Jonathan is not my GP, nor am I on his team. He asked me to promise to let the practice know if there was anything they could do for me and let me know he would call again this week. I consider these acts to be above and beyond duty but demonstrate true empathy, kindness, and care. So, thank you.

I am one of four daughters. Our parents are both dead and each of my siblings lives in a different continent. We try to keep in touch by WhatsApp, Zoom and phone, but it is at these times that we need to be closer geographically. My eldest sister was diagnosed with breast cancer in March 2021. What are the odds of two sisters being diagnosed within months of each other? We compare notes and speak on the phone but are nearly 5000 miles apart. With Covid, I don’t know when we will be able to get together again. We four have a plan for a reunion in Tobago in April 2022 to coincide with what would have been our mother’s birthday. I hope to God that we can all make it and that we will all be well again. For all of you my darlings, I wish you love and joy.

I wrote the following sentence in a memoir which is still in draft, and I may never publish: “I could never get the love and affection I wanted because I did not know how, or what to ask for.” This sentiment is writ large for me now. So many friends want to do things to help but I have no idea what to ask for. There are times in the middle of the night when I think if only I had a hand to hold, a face to smile – or cry with. But I can hardly organise this on a just in case basis.

Once again, to all these friends, I say thank you. I am seriously trying hard to both ask for and accept help and support.

The image at the top of this blog post is of a beautiful rose I saw in Regent’s Park last Sunday November 28. It makes me remember how much I love nature and how grateful I am for its many wonders that surround me. The image at the end of the page is a photo of sunset I took in early September from my bedroom balcony of my new house in Cyprus. I was supposed to be there now, before this damn cancer put the brake on all my plans. However, it’s only the temporary handbrake.

Today, Thursday December 2, is C-Day or should that be B-Day? It is the day of my breast surgery, so now it is time for some music which will be the subject of my next post.