Anita Dawes's Blog: http://jenanita01.wordpress.com, page 12

Memories of The New Forest...

It was a late summer day. The sky was an intense blue and enormous puffy white clouds sailed above our heads, heading towards the horizon as we set off on an adventure, satnav in hand.
The journey to the New Forest took just over an hour but didn’t seem very long at all. There was lots of lovely scenery to look at, especially as we got closer to the Forest.
You know when you are almost there, for you begin to see the wild ponies everywhere. They are allowed to roam freely, wherever the mood takes them and if you are lucky enough to live there, you must get used to them just turning up and being in the way. They are not that small, either. To call them ‘ponies’ would give you the wrong impression. Most of them are quite a size and can be quite formidable!
I am always surprised by the amount of people who are visibly frightened if a pony gets too close to them, but sometimes it can be alarming. One poor man had to give up his ice cream; it was either that or lose an arm.
As we made our way to the car park, there were several ponies standing around in the street and a few more in the car park. Nobody seems to mind, but it does tend to play havoc with the traffic. Most of the foreign tourists have no idea what’s going on, and I know from experience that it’s completely terrifying trying to steer a car around a completely oblivious animal that’s just standing in the middle of the road.
It was not our first visit, so we knew what to expect. We were here about ten years ago and still remember one rather large and stroppy pony who was trying to break into some of the cars in the car park. He obviously thought he could smell food, and it was all very scary not to mention the damage he was causing!
We decide to have lunch and have a look around afterwards, so we chose an eating-place with a good view of the road so we could watch the show. One pony in particular was standing in the middle of the road and didn’t look as though he had any intention of moving any time soon. He seemed to be hell-bent on causing as much disruption to the traffic flow as possible. Almost deliberately, I thought as I could swear I saw mischief in his eyes.
I heard some of the locals explaining to the tourists that the freedom the ponies enjoyed was theirs by right, as they were here first. The New Forest belongs to them and people take second place, as simple as that. Very strange goings on, if you ask me, but wonderful to see. This has been going on for centuries and I can see it going on for years to come.
I could live there for sure, to literally share your life with wild ponies seems like my idea of heaven. Quite apart from the fact that I have wanted to live in a forest for years…

#Wordless Wednesday...

My Favourite Places x5…

                                                    The Physic Garden, Petersfield.
One of my favourite places is actually in my hometown. Somewhere I love to visit whenever I can, just to recharge my batteries.
It is called a Physic Garden, some kind of garden left over from long ago and not a garden in the sense we use, but one full of medicinal and therapeutic plants and flowers.
It is quite large and walled on all sides with intersecting pathways and benches at regular intervals.  These benches are always occupied whenever I visit, and it would seem I am not the only one who loves the place. From pensioners and housewives, to young people, spending a few moments of their lunchbreak in tranquil surroundings. It is obviously a very old garden, as some of the walls are currently shored up with wood to stop them falling down, which is a shame, but would cost a small fortune to put right.

The last time I was there, I spotted some mistletoe growing quite low down on one of the oldest apple trees I have ever seen. Most of the plants and trees are ancient too, with some varieties I have never seen before, and all are helpfully labelled for your information. I had never appreciated before just how old a tree or plant could be and still go on producing leaves, fruit and flowers.
It is an oasis of calm, in the middle of a busy town, and has saved my sanity on more than one occasion. I always manage to find something I have not noticed before, or sometimes just to sit and absorb the peace is enough.
The place is always full of birds and insects, and if you sit quietly on one of those benches, it is like being in another world, in another time. One I usually prefer to the one outside its walls, that’s for sure.
I always hate to leave and wish it were my garden, to be able to walk around it at any time of the day or night would be wonderful.

Good Intentions…

Round about now, quite a lot of those people who made New Year resolutions are feeling guilty, as most of their good intentions have fallen by the wayside.
I didn’t make any resolutions. Not much point really, for all the things I would love to change have evaded any control on my part for years. The absence of any good intentions has not meant that I started the year in any better mood though, quite the opposite really.
How can you be so enthusiastic one minute and under the table the next? My life is beginning to be choked with overwhelming chores, suffocating the creative in me. I am finding it harder and harder to make my brain understand what I am trying to do. Very confusing, but this will pass, they say, and I for one, cannot wait.
They say that once you have learned how to do something, your mind and body will never forget how. ‘Like riding a bike’. But have you ever attempted to ride a bicycle after several years have passed? You will remember the basics, of course but it will feel strange, and some of you will come unstuck and fall off.
This is why we should all practice our craft every day, and this includes writing. If we fail to do this, thinking it will all come back to us, it will not be the same. It cannot be the same for our minds and bodies don’t remember all the details. I know mine doesn’t.
The nuances of style and technique dull with lack of use and become blunt. Even tiny fragments of brilliance need to be polished frequently to maintain and improve its shine. So all I have to do now, is find a fragment and a duster! In other words, stop worrying and just write!
 


Speaking of achievements, Jaye’s new book, The Last Life is now on Amazon.com and for a while, only 99p.
It would be wonderful if someone could read it, and maybe say a few words?



http://www.amazon.comdp/B017DNXBXE






 

The Final Chapter…

 (re-blogged from http://jenanita01.wordpress.com)



The last part of the puzzle had just been revealed, and it all but took away the relief of finding out that the cancer had not spread.I had another appointment at the Breast Clinic, and was not fully prepared for their plans for my future.
At least I knew I had one, I hear you say, but their proposed treatment plan was not for the faint hearted.
Three weeks of radiotherapy and five years of anti-hormone drugs was a small price to pay, but by the time all the side effects and endless possibilities was explained to me, I felt sick to my stomach.
On top of everything else, it turned out that the offending breast was infected. Hot, swollen, and very uncomfortable, needing an intensive weeklong course of antibiotics. In addition, if it failed to resolve itself, would need to be drained. 

Was there no end to all of this?
Added to all of this, was the knowledge that someone would need to take time off from work to drive me to the hospital, which was not exactly around the corner. I was getting more and more miserable by the minute.
I hate to be a burden on anyone, so this was something else I would have to suffer in silence. Plus, I may very well be too tired, or sick, to enjoy the process. (I am joking!)
Life wasn’t going to be a picnic for several weeks to come, BUT at the end of it all, I would be 90% more likely to remain cancer free in the future.
So no backing out then.
This will be the last post dedicated to this subject, as you are probably just as fed up with hearing about it all as I am. But despite all my complaints, I know I am one of the lucky ones, even if I do end up with a very odd looking boob!
At least I get to keep my hair!

Did I see The Rainbow Bridge?

Re posted from http://jenanita01.wordpress.com


On the way to the hospital for my pre-op check-up, I was more than a little apprehensive. The day was cold, freezing wind and rain chilled me to the bone long before I reached the car.They were going to inject me with a radioactive dye to highlight the sentinel lymph node, ready for the surgeon the next day. This would be removed along with the tumour to see if the cancer had spread.
I had lived with this knowledge for nearly a month, and the following day I would know the worst. Inside, I felt as cold and bleak as the weather, but somehow resigned to my fate, whatever it was.Just as we turned onto the main road, I happened to look up at the sky.  Shining like an angelic message, was the largest, brightest and strongest rainbow I have ever seen. My heart soared up to meet it and tears filled my eyes. It felt so special and had to be a good omen.


At the time, I didn’t think of it as the ‘rainbow bridge’ people talk about, and we didn’t actually cross it, or pass under it. It stayed beside us as we travelled towards the motorway.
The following day couldn’t have been more different.
We left at 6am in the cold and dark. It felt like the middle of the night, and we were all in a sombre mood, bristling with apprehension. From the back seat of the car, I stared out of the rain-spattered windows, wondering what I was in for. I had an idea, being no stranger to hospitals. But just how bad it might be was unknown and I found myself mesmerised by the coloured studs  all the way along the motorway.
As we approached the coast, the view was incredible. The sea was calm and glistening with millions of reflected lights in the darkness, the dawn a faint promise on the horizon. It had to be a good day, didn’t it?
There was a lot of waiting around that day and more prodding, scanning and artwork. Yes, they do actually draw all over you. I ended up with all manner of squiggles, numbers and arrows in big black letters all over my breast. Pity I couldn’t photograph it!
To cut a long story short, the surgery went well. The tumour was satisfactorily removed, and all my lymph nodes were clear. Essentially, the cancer has gone. Subject to more intensive tests of course.
At this point, I have to thank the doctors, nurses and everyone in Breast Care Services at Queen Alexandra Hospital, Portsmouth for taking such good care of me.
It was just 28 days from diagnosis to surgery, a brilliant timescale. I barely had time to worry about anything!

Why did this Happen to Me?

(Re-posted from http://jenanita01.wordpress.com)

 I am normally optimistic about the new year approaching.
But not this time…
I already knew how it would start, and I wouldn't be making any resolutions because of it. The operation to remove the cancer from my right breast was scheduled, and right now, I wish it were over and done with. The prognosis is good, they say, but until they operate, they won’t know for sure.
So this could just be a small inconvenience, or the start of something so much more serious. My instincts are normally good enough to rely on, but this time they have let me down and I have no clue what will happen.
The thought of the possible battle, not to mention the loss of my hair, does not scare me at all. I have always been a fighter, so no change there.
But because my instincts and emotions seem to have been hit by a truck, I don’t know what to feel. It all seems a bit surreal, almost like a practical joke, or something happening to someone else. I have always been almost painfully independent, but now I realise I cannot do this alone. I am becoming what I feared the most, needy.
My life seems to have been one fight (struggle) after another, and my first book, The Ninth Life is more than a little biographical. I have almost bought the farm so many times and was fantasising about not being able to die at all. That wonderful, indescribable feeling has just been snatched away, leaving me feeling less than mortal. I feel like a child with a broken promise to deal with.  I was hoping that getting to my seventies might mean a gentle slide into peace and tranquillity. Obviously not happening any time soon.
For some reason, Jesse is conspicuous by his absence, which is a shame, for I miss feeling his dark doggy presence. Depression can be a strange comfort at times, for it can blanket your fears and stop you thinking. Something I would really welcome round about now.
Usually on New Year’s Eve, I am the life and soul of the celebrations, always optimistic about the possibilities of the incoming year. I love to listen to the chimes of Big Ben, preferably right there on the embankment in London, but failing that, seeing and hearing it on the TV. Turned up loud, so the vibrations can reach my soul as the huge bell strikes the hour.
This year was so very different.
There was no party mood, no drink in hand. I sat and listened to Big Ben, but this time there were tears running down my face. I didn’t really know how I felt, and this in itself was upsetting. My life seems to be on hold. Nothing is as it seems and I already hate what I am becoming. Where has my hope, all my optimism gone?
This had better all be temporary, or there will be hell to pay, of that much I am certain. I always felt as though I would go on forever, and now I don’t feel that anymore, I am all at once lost. I am turning into a doubting Thomas…and it will not do at all…

Battle Stations…

As most of you know, a few weeks ago, I went to my doctor because I thought I had found a lump in my breast. It was scary enough, at the time.
I was reassured that it was almost certainly nothing to worry about, but I would have to have it checked out, just in case. Somewhere along the way, I managed to convince myself that it would turn out to be a false alarm, something simple, like a cyst, or even my imagination.
Only it was none of these things.
They discovered that not only did I have a lump; it was the worst kind of lump. Suddenly everything changed and became very serious. What was originally planned as a simple outpatient procedure had turned into major surgery, including radiotherapy, or worse, if they found anything else.
I would also have to have medication to control the oestrogen in my body, and although I joked about growing a beard, inside, I wasn’t laughing.
Even though it was the worst possible news, the surgical registrar insisted that I would be eventually be fine. The cancer had been caught early and would be removed efficiently.
They seemed so sure of the outcome, but deep down inside I was having trouble believing them. My medical history suggested otherwise, for the words complications and trouble must be written on my birth certificate somewhere.
I came home from the hospital, stunned into silence. No humour or smart remarks that day. My family tried hard not to get upset, but I witnessed first- hand how much I was loved by every single one of them and that was the saddest part of all.
My lump (I refuse to call it by its proper name) was removed just after Christmas. I tried to keep a brave face, but inside I was angry, not scared and glad to get it out of my body. My instincts tell me that I probably will be all right eventually.
However, it was a hell of a way to start the New Year!

Witch Ever Way you look at it...

           Our Review of the week...



Do you have the perfect life? Annie does. The perfect friend. The perfect business. And the perfect grandmother. She doesn't need anything else, and certainly not Mace Anderson, the too-clever-for-his-own-good new neighbour who has moved into Honeysuckle Cottage. Unfortunately, Annie’s grandmother isn't of the same opinion and has decided to use her ‘craft’ to spell the enigmatic Mace to fall in love with her granddaughter.
About the AuthorJennie Orbell writes contemporary fiction and to date has four published novels, a short story compilation, and a nonfiction book, compiled from her blog entries - "Two Chucks and a Tabby Cat". Jennie lives in Leicestershire, where she shares her life with a very laid-back man, two chickens, and a tabby cat - this last fact may not have been written in strict order of importance!  Jennieorbell.wordpress.com
~~~~~
A witch’s life should be perfect, right?
But Annie has no intentions of becoming a witch like her grandmother. She is young, attractive, headstrong and single, and sometimes her life has a habit of turning itself upside down at a moment’s notice and she could use a magic wand.
jennie OrbellIn the beginning, this story was deliciously funny and I anticipated a fun read. However, mysterious forces were soon at work, and a serious thread became apparent.
Her best friend Lizzie, a widow, is struggling to bring up her young son, trying desperately to forget how her husband died and continue living her life without him.
Annie has dark memories too, a nasty accident that she refuses to think about.Then an attractive man moves into the cottage just across the street, triggering her grandmother to conjure up wedding bells. But maybe he likes Lizzie instead?
A brilliantly intricate story. So much going on and at times I laughed aloud. The serious bits were incredibly sad, but it works out well in the end, after a well thought out twist that I didn’t see coming.
I would definitely recommend this well written book, for it has something for everyone and I defy you to read it with a straight face!

The Day I found a Lump...

(Re-posted from December 2015)




When I went to my doctor about a lump I thought I had found, I fully expected him to say it was nothing. Wishful thinking, I suppose.
But to my horror, he said there was something there and it should be checked out. Before I knew what was happening, I was attending the Breast Clinic at Queen Alexander Hospital in Portsmouth where I was subjected to various procedures. I had heard that mammograms could be very painful, as they squash your boobs flat in the machine, so I was more or less prepared for it.
It was a little uncomfortable, but I was more concerned about how flat they were squashing my boobs!
Next, I had an ultrasound scan, like the ones they do when you are pregnant. When the doctor seemed to be taking forever on the place I felt the lump, I had to ask if it was all right. Quite calmly, he said no, it was not. Then equally calmly, he said he would need to take some tissue samples with a biopsy.
At this point, I wanted to crawl away into the corner of the room, for this was not the scenario in my head. They were supposed to say that everything was fine, that I was wasting everyone’s time.The taking of the samples didn’t hurt a bit, as my boob was numbed. Pretty much how the rest of me was feeling at that point. I was having a waking nightmare where all my hair was falling out.
In between these tests, I sat in the waiting room, watching an assortment of women cope with the same situation. Some were determined to be brave; some so relaxed and laid back. Sometimes, one would come out of a room, clearly upset. I was fast becoming one of those.
Then it was my turn to see the surgical registrar, a lovely woman with a positive, beaming smile. I sat there, fully expecting the worst possible news. However, it turned out that my lump was considered small. She didn't think it had spread to my lymph nodes or anywhere else and would be removed under local anaesthetic in the outpatient clinic, regardless of what kind of lump it turned out to be.
She said I was one of the lucky ones, and that everything would indeed be fine.
I wasn’t totally convinced, but she sounded so confident, I tried hard to believe her. I knew I wouldn't be able to relax until I knew the results of the tests.
More of my story on Wednesday. See you then!