Beach Break

I am having a break at the beach. It is beautiful here and very relaxing.

I was hoping I’d be feeling magnificent, but alas I think I am a suffering from my final withdrawal from hormones. I had my Mirena removed last week and I suspect that my body is reacting to the absence of the progestin it was delivering.

Anyway, I feel a bit heavy in the head and migrainey (aura without pain, thank goodness). It is the first time I’ve felt like this since cancer treatment propelled me into menopause.

I have been feeling magnificent though. It is great having the port out. It has left a gnarly scar but has healed well. I have returned to the gym, been working in the office with increasing abilities to concentrate, still walking and horse riding, and I now have enough cognitive ability to read books again and have been devouring them with gusto.

Being at the beach brings back memories of time spent in the family bach as a child and in particular the escapades of one of my cousins closest in age to me. It is hard to believe, now that Orewa is a suburb of Auckland, but we had a two bedroom bach there. It was about 1km away from the beach and backed on to a farm.

My cousin and I were sent off for a nap one afternoon at the bach. We weren’t in the mood for napping. We decided to be super heroes and threw ourselves around the bedroom. My Mum came in, told us off and put us back in our beds. Unperturbed we became quiet super heroes. My cousin put a towel around his shoulders and as such had a cape and was able to fly. He decided to escape. He opened the window, threw himself out and rather than flying, he fell like a stone and put his teeth through his tongue. We had a trip to the medical clinic and from that moment on, I have had an aversion to blood.

Another time my cousin went missing from a family picnic at the beach. Panic ensued when he could not be located. The surf life savers were alerted and searches commenced. After searching fruitlessly for some time a family member returned to the bach where my cousin was located. He’d walked back to the house, crossing State Highway 1 in the process, and was happily playing with his match box cars under the fig tree.

The back garden of the bach backed onto a farm. We were separated from the farm by an open drain. There was a lovely horse that was sometimes in the field over the drain. I loved that horse. He would put his head over to get scratches and I sometimes fed him bunches of grass or bits of carrot or apple. My cousin wasn’t such a fan and he used to tease the horse. One day the horse put his head over the drain, picked my cousin up by the T-shirt and deposited him in his paddock. I remember the impressive set of horse teeth marks on my cousin’s shoulder and my Dad having to jump the drain to rescue him.

It is funny the memories a familiar landscape sparks and it explains why I love a view of the sea over farmland.

After a lengthy absence I have a number of cancer appointments coming up. I see the breast surgeon later this week and the oncologist next week. I will be starting a year long course of neratinib soon.

I have a mop of short, curly hair, some weird looking finger nails, diminished eyelashes and a weak left arm - but they are now the only outward signs of the punishment my body has gone through. I am working on being big and strong again. I am healthy eating, weight training and trying to be active every day. Life is good and I am grateful for where I am now compared to this time last year.