With the Russian madman causing mayhem in the world, I am really trying to maintain a positive outlook.
The war news is dominating and it’s difficult to avoid. But am very aware of how my mental health can affect my physical health, so I am attempting (and so far succeeding) to limit my news watching/viewing. I look at just enough to get a very superficial overview but even that is more than I want. I feel so sad for all the people affected by this megalomaniac!
Time flies by, even the chemo treatments. Yesterday was #5 of the planned 6. The results of my blood tests continue to be good. The cancer marker went from 301 to 187 this week. But not low enough to move on to the next stage. Dr. McCleave said they want to see it at around 30 which is quite a long way yet.
When I came back to South Africa in 2019, I naturally gravitated to where I was born and grew up. And actually ended up in the what we used to call the village of Kloof. (It’s no longer a village!) Kloof is about 18 miles/29km from Durban and just on 1600ft/500km above sea level, giving the area a more moderate climate than Durban, usually being a good 10F less which was the case when I took Rodney to the park this afternoon. Plus less humid.
The fourth treatment went as planned. Mick came with me so he was able to meet my doctor. It’s always good to have another set of ears in a consultation but this one was very straightforward because everything is going so well.
November 16 last year is the fateful day I got the definitive news that changed my life.
By then I ‘d been in hospital for 8 days going through tests and everything else that goes along with a cancer diagnosis. I’d just had laparoscopic surgery for a biopsy and the GYN/surgeon came to visit me after I had very gently been given the diagnosis. He’s a lovely man and from reading his bio, a pretty religious one as well. He said to me as he sat at my bedside, “Have you considered end of life?”
My office this morning is the veranda that looks out onto the very green grass and the fever trees with their weaver bird nests, where the birds are very busy finishing off their new homes. Their chattering and chirping can get quite noisy! As can the frogs in the pond at night. I had to close the window the other night, as their croaking was so loud, I couldn’t go to sleep. Oh, the trials of living in Africa!
People are asking what my take is on the country, coming back with an undetermined departure date. My mission is to decide whether I am able to adjust to the country I was born in, lived in until I was 18, made numerous returns/visits of various lengths to over the ensuing years, and now am looking at making my permanent home again.
It doesn’t seem to matter where I am, here I am!
What I mean is that despite being the other side of the world, in a completely different environment, my life takes on a familiar routine, with just a few minor adjustments. It would be different if I was on vacation or visiting as a tourist. But that’s not the case and so my life continues with barely a hiccup.
Getting used to a new country, or adjusting to a place I used to know but is now new to me, is a challenging proposition. Instead of being bombarded with Trump mania, mass shootings and political horrors in the US, I’m dealing with “load shedding” and school violence, local government whinging, plus the ongoing Zuma saga.
