It's National Peanut Butter month

Note to self:  Schedule hair appointment for 14 November 2020.

Not that I am suggesting I won't have a trim in between, but I think I need a definite appointment on that particular day.  The 14th of November, as you well know, has been set aside as World Diabetes Day.  The International Diabetes Federation chose that date - Prince Charles' birthday (oh alright, Mr Banting's birthday too) - to encourage the world to become more aware of, and concerned about, diabetes.

Awareness is always a good thing, especially around preventable and curable diseases.  It warns and encourages people to check various body parts and take the necessary action.  I am most grateful that Andrew's cancer was caught early and treated.  Type 2 diabetes can be prevented and controlled.  But Type 1 can't.  It is an autoimmune disease, and strikes for no known reason, and very quickly too.  All it takes is a few days to go from a carefree 11 year old (in TD's case) to a insulin-dependent-for-ever PWD (Person with diabetes). Just this week and not for the first time, someone benignly told TD to "get better soon."  It doesn't work like that - the diabetes club offers life long memberships only.

There was a gathering of mothers of T1 kids this Thursday, because that can be a kind of club too.  Shared experiences can make us stronger.  Community can be less lonely.  Connectivity can be helpful.  I didn't go.  TD was home studying for exams, and stress overwhelmed her at about the time I was going to set off for the tea.

A beautiful and calm place to visualize

Instead we went for a walk, did some breathing exercises, visualized her happy place, and got back on track.  I am grateful I was there when she needed me.

So, back to World Diabetes Day and my hair appointment.  I am thinking that next diabetes day I will do something that is both ordinary and nourishing: a hair cut fits the bill.  It will be a nod to myself that life goes on regardless of mothering diabetes, but sometimes it is lovely to take time out to let someone pamper you.

 These days there seems to be a month for everything.  November alone celebrates, according to one website,

#Aviation history month
#International drum month
#Caregivers appreciation month
#Diabetes awareness month
#Model railroad month
#Novel writing month
#Peanut butter lovers month
#Jewelry month
#Sleep comfort month
#National Grumpy month


It's all a bit much.  I guess we can pick and choose which to celebrate.  But it makes me uncomfortable to have to celebrate T1 as it is unpreventable and incurable.

Of course, the above list is incomplete.  It fails to mention that it is also MOVEMBER, to bring awareness and support for men dealing with testicular and prostate cancer, suicide and mental health issues.  That means Andrew is cultivating his hairy upper lip look.  This year he is going for the handlebar moustache. Sigh.

But if even one person is helped by all these awareness campaigns, they will have served their purpose.

Note to self:  Schedule all my own health checkups early in the new year.  And don't forget to book Bronwyn for 14 November.

Note to reader:  I made up the National Grumpy Month.  It just fitted my mood.

But it is only September....

2017's attempt

 

2016's look

For the past few years, I have approached November with a bit of a sigh.  Andrew has taken on the challenge of Movember – growing a moustache to raise awareness and fundraising for prostate cancer.  The hairy upper lip is not my favourite look on him to be honest, and he hams it up by choosing outrageous styles which he cultivates with great care.  I count the 30 days and tolerate this hirsute project.  But this year, I will not sigh, because this year it is personal.

Andrew was diagnosed with prostate cancer in March.  It has thrown us all a bit, not least him.  I can write about it now, because in July he had surgery to remove the prostate and on Monday we got the good news that he is probably clear.  Sometimes, whilst enduring something awful, I find it easier just to shut up and bottle it all in.  When the crisis is looking less threatening I can articulate how it was – that is just the way I am.  The surgery went well – Andrew’s doctor is one of the few trained and skilled in robotic surgery for the prostatectomy.  So instead of a very long scar down his abdomen, he has five smaller wounds.  He was booked off work for four weeks and – for someone who uses every second of every day –  I was a little surprised and grateful that he slept for most of it. 

It is hard to describe what it feels like to watch a partner fall ill with a dread disease.  Lots of things spring to mind: Like all the dreams and unfulfilled projects that we really should have given more time to: Like what is really important in life and how important balance is;  Like are we practically equipped to deal with illness.

We had a policy – we would tackle whatever was thrown at us together.  So I go with to all the doctor’s and physiotherapist’s appointments, make notes and talk about all the possibilities with him.

There has been a lot of sadness this year, and a lot to cope with. 

This November I will embrace the month of the moustache with much more enthusiasm.  Andrew has been very good about spreading the word to all people who will listen – Men- get your annual PSA level checked.  Take your health seriously.  There is nothing embarrassing about body parts and functions.  Talk about things.

I am very grateful for the skill of the medical community in Cape Town.  Andrew’s next check up is in 6 weeks.  We are hoping the good news continues and we can breathe a little easier.  Both this cancer scare and TD’s diabetes have made me realize we shouldn’t take health for granted.  

Carpe diem, and all that…..

Slender threads

Until last Thursday, TD had long, long hair.  She cut it short after much anticipation (and some angst) and gave the pony tail to CANSA - the Cancer Association of South Africa.  They make wigs for people who lose their hair during chemo treatment.  She has wanted to do this for a couple of years now as a thoughtful, personal response to people living through cancer.  Most people  have been touched by cancer in some way - through a family member, friend or colleague.  Awareness about cancer and its treatment is growing, in part because the media have demythologised it, but mostly because people are less afraid to talk about it and more open hear what treatment is available.

Other equally potentially deadly diseases do not receive such attention.  Why do some illnesses still have stigmas attached to them, sometimes even blame.  Why are people quick to judge others who are ill, why do we even have a label called "Lifestyle diseases"?  Much publicity around diabetes  seems to have an admonishment with it.  A radio advert running on our airwaves at the moment says something like: "Do you have a glass of orange juice for breakfast, and energy drink on the way to the office, cola with your lunch?  Do you know you are setting yourself up for diabetes type 2?"  The advert is from the government justifying the proposed sugar tax.   People look at TD and assume unhealthy eating habits caused her pancreas to stop functioning.

Another illness that people don't want to talk about is depression.  Despite alarming statistics - about 7 out of 100 people suffer from depression at some time in their lives - it is whispered about with eyes averted as if it is something to be ashamed about.  I was thinking about this because depression, like cancer and diabetes, can be life threatening if not treated.  A week ago, a class mate of TD took her own life.  She was only 14.

We need to talk.  We need to destigmatise ALL illness.  We need to be more compassionate, less judgemental. We need to be kinder  - to others and ourselves.

Life can be a slender thread.  We can be hanging on,  hoping the thread holds, hoping others see that it is fraying.  Let's use our slender threads collectively to create a interwoven rope of support.

I hope whoever gets the wig made from TD's hair magically absorbs the love and support which comes with it. Every time I look at TD, I see strength and compassion and great beauty in her short hair.  And I want to hold her tightly and keep her safe.