There’s nothing quite like scanxiety to make me pause and re-examine my life. My drive to the hospital on Friday was filled with prayers, promises and dreams to manifest. I tried not to focus on the blurry screen. I also (unsuccessfully) attempted to block out the radiographer’s scary murmurings. But
I’ve had my suspicions confirmed! Archie’s early morning visits coincide with Xena’s walks with her master. Not that I enjoy them any less. It’s just that second choice thing popping up. But I’m over that hang up. If I’m not someone’s first choice then they’re not mine. And it’s different
This time last year I had to deal with midnight guests sneaking into my room. Fear and mistrust arrived, uninvited and unwelcome. Very unwelcome… A new lump in my breast had popped up during the night and ignoring it was my go to response. ‘It’s probably nothing,’ I’d told myself.
Last night’s rain lingers on the confetti bushes and I’m hoping for more this morning. I shared my egg on toast with Archie and Xena, exactly one corner each, or war would break out. Egyptian geese are shouting from our rooftop and I am hoping that their chicks are in
Yes, I still remember my 2020 Xeloda phase. But I don’t dwell on it. Today has become enough. And the months have sped by, despite the lockdown slowdown. The sun is out again, after glorious rain and my little patch of grass is springing up in gratitude. Late agapanthus blooms
I was bunkering down. It seemed like the only thing to do. And a year later, I am venturing out a little more, masked and sanitised. It feels normal in some ways and in others, it is still surreal. There is a seriousness about life that permeates every decision. Even