Those moments of peace...

Beautiful Danda, thanks again for sharing. Sometimes I´ve wondered if we´re not making you feel "obliged" to write on the blog especially when your energies drain and your marathon becomes longer and longer. But then I read your entries and your sincerity, your generosity in sharing, your amazing capacity to transmit the good and the disappointing, are so overwhelming and touching that I know that this blog is part of your path to Victory! In any case, another heartfelt GRAZIE for making us part of your battle and helping us feel close to you.

I also wonder at times if prayers and positive thoughts are not better than so many words? But then, I love to read every entry of your blog followers (and I often wonder how many millions of beautiful personal letters you must receive!). And I guess that, after all, troops need to be a little noisy, no?:) Well, querida, I just wanted to tell you how happy I am you have such an incredible sister! I actually had no doubts but what you describe is a true confirmation that all the strength, beauty and intelligence we saw in Chiara when she was growing up was real, as real as it can get. And, through this experience, she is flourishing all the more...just as you are. Danda, do you realize what amaaaaaazing things you´ve achieved in this past year? Do you realize how many obstacles you have surmounted and mountains you have climbed, and not just physically but mentally and spiritually? You are not climbing one mountain but many, and with each one you are given the opportunity to grow more and surprise yourself more (I can see you saying: "I´d much prefer not to have to learn!!!" And you´re so right! We all wish you didn´t have to go through this!!). But remember how sad and disappointed you were when you had to cancel your first trip to Rome? And then, look! You have some great photos and even more beautiful memories to show that you made it to Rome and to your 102-year old Nonna! Yes, in comparison, getting to Rome is a smaller mountain to climb than defeating the cancer but these are all impressive achievements. I think you´re doing a great job of realizing how healthy and strong you feel given the circumstances, and that is no minor sign to ignore!

In this different stage of your marathon, I pray that you may find those moments of peace that you spoke of some time ago in your blog. I wish that those rare moments may become less than rare and, actually, almost as pervasive as the positive thoughts you successfully nourish in your mind. I wish that those moments of inner peace may help you find the last "bit" of strength you need to win this battle of battles. Although this may seem like a war, I think it´s more of a race, a very loooong one, a sailing odyssey across oceans of all types. So I wish that the time will soon come when you no longer need to wage war against the cancer for it will understand that it has taught you enough, that it has made you even stronger and more beautiful than you were before, that it has mobilized enough love and positivity to realize it has no point in being inside you. I wish for it to drift away, dissolve, neutralize, vanish on its own accord.

I guess we´ll never understand why some of us get such tough, scary, unfair challenges and others are spared. But one thing is for sure, we are all given opportunities to grow and discover our human potential and the best way of thanking life is to try to learn as much as we can and not succumb to fear. You are a living example of how to find millions of silver linings when a huge dark cloud looms above you. When that ominous cloud finally drifts away and dissolves into millions of harmless water particles, you will see and feel the warm rays of the sun that was always there but the ominous cloud didn´t let you see.

Once again, I leave with you some words I read and wanted to share with you:

"Faith is the ability to stay focused on love no matter what, trusting it to bring about wonderful solutions and miracles....Distrust, on the other hand, is the opposite: it makes you believe that you have to do everything yourself, and all things in life are won through struggling, worrying and competing. Of the two feelings, which do you think is happier and healthier?"

With much love, Sally

Strength, a Sister, and a Song.

Dear All,

I haven't written in a while, having needed time to "regroup", configure a new battle plan, adjust to the new turn in the road...The past few days have not been easy, but then, is there anyone who thinks that marathons ever are?

My body braved Cycle #20 of chemo remarkably well - I feel that my body has become the battered tank that continues to take full frontal attack after attack while still steadily moving forward. It sounds surreal to say, but it is almost as if it has become "used" to this routine... chemo has been so central to my life for over a year now, that my body and it join in an ugly but purposeful dance of sorts. Some of the steps are familiar, some of the rhythm is predictable... and yet there is always a difference in tune and tone with every time. In this cycle, the worst was the nausea, lack of appetite and deep fatigue, but I did not feel pain, did not get the "chemo coat", did not lose my hair... The effects lasted the better part of a week, and then I could tangibly feel them begin to lift. Sweet relief. I think that the physical part of this marathon is what gives me most confidence, because when I look at myself in the mirror, I simply don't LOOK like I have been through 20 rounds of chemo. I don't FEEL like I have been through 20 rounds of chemo. Today I woke up, made it through my day, and I felt normal. Energetic. Hungry. I contradict my own preconceptions of what someone with my illness and my experience should physically look and feel like. And so, I hold on tight to the strength that my body continues to show me.

My mind and emotions, however, have braved the past week with much greater difficulty. The recent scan results really knocked my confidence and showered me in doubts and fears. So much so, that I have had to actively work at getting back my determination, my positive attitude, my belief in possibility. I now say a set of affirmations throughout my day, something that has proven to be particularly effective when I am battling "negative thoughts" - it is hard to think negatively when you are saying something positive. I say these at any point in my day - in the shower, walking down the street, in bed, while I am cooking.... out loud or in my head, the statements are helpful ways of keeping my focus. It may sound strange, but I can sense a negative thought coming, and I immediately revert to my affirmations, allowing them to take centre stage instead. And yes, I still visualise and am trying to integrate more moments of meditation in my day.

But it's the people around me that continue to be such a driving force for me. My family has been wonderful in helping me with this, and you all as my troops have also been incredible morale boosters in all of your messages. But I have to make special mention of my amazing sister, because Chiara has been the one to really pull me up lately and keep me in this race. I cannot begin to describe what her pep talks are like, but they are a perfect combination of fact, of logic, of attitude, of patience, of conviction. She does not sweet talk, nor sugar coat, nor patronise. She is reactive and proactive, she is understanding and empathic, she is encouraging and persuasive. She listens to my worries, she talks me through my tears, she guides me out of the dark dead ends. She holds me tight in my lows, and kicks me in the ass when I need it. What she says makes sense, and in resonating so clearly it brings me a degree of comfort that is unquantifiable. She embodies belief, perseverance, dedication, and love.

And she is there for me without fail. Take, for example, this past Sunday. I was walking through Hyde Park with my mother, and as I watched the couples and children and families and runners around me, I became overwhelmed with a deep sense of sadness and anxiety, and burst into tears. I felt in my own little "solitary bubble", set apart from the happiness and carefreeness of those I saw, and wishing so desperately to have a moment of that reprieve, of being able to feel the weight of this illness lifted off my shoulders just for a while. And the emotion was such a wave that I couldn't pull myself together, so much so that, right there, I took my mother's cell phone and called up my sister. For the next 30 minutes, Chiara talked me through it, with my mother all the while keeping step next to me, holding my hand in quiet support as I voiced my thoughts into that cell phone, and let Chiara's words sink in in return. By the end of the call, I was okay again. The sadness had subsided, the suffocating weight had lifted, and I felt strength return. Chiara is there for me, in that way, day in and day out. Yes, this marathon has waves and winds and bumps and hills. But I have Chiara, and not only is she running next to me, but she is half carrying me on her back all the way to the finish line. She is a truly remarkable person.

And talking if people who do me a world of good.... James is thriving. He is now the master of Legos, building towers and yet to be named contraptions, which he brings to life with "Brrrmmm, brmmmm" sound effects. He has discovered the joy of drawing, and he will sit for minutes on end at a little table we have in our living room, with crayons in hand, colouring away. He loves to walk, run, climb, tumble - all toddler, all boy. He is so playful, so sociable, and his giggles are infectious. And he sings - he is a child who simply loves to sing. His song is what wakes me up in the morning, as I hear him singing a tune from his cot. His song is what fills our home as he happily putters around in exploration. His song is what brings our day to a comforting close as he hums his way to sleep. I just adore it. I just adore him.

Time for bed. Tomorrow is another day. One step closer to the finish line, with a strong body, an amazing sister, and a song in my heart.

Hugs to all.

rain, rain go away

Dear Danda,

Thank you for sharing all the pictures. Nonna looks amazing and so do you! Remember you have Nonna's genes-there are none other that I would want to have for strength than that of an Italian woman! Thank you for sharing your news-it takes great strength to share disappointing news. I suppose that there is fear that if you say the words they might in fact be true. But it is true and we all have to succumb to a new battle plan and a longer fight, but like Nonna we are in and will prevail.

It has been raining here for a week. Relentless at times. It seemed every time I walked out a door it rained harder...in sheets....as I pushed my umbrella against its force and made my way to my next destination. But for a brief moment yesterday the sun broke and set the evening sky aglow with blushing clouds. It was a beautiful sight and I thought to myself without all the rain this scene would not be possible-sometimes with gloom comes beauty and fresh perspective.

The cancer is the rain that seems to be never ending, but you are sun that continues to poke its head through and create these moments of unbelievable clarity and rays of beauty. Danda, do not give up, if you have the strength use it, we will be there to bolster you up when your brow becomes furrowed. We have you. Trust that we are there to keep you strong when you feel weak. And nearer and dearer you have James and Julian your knights in shining armor who will be the smiles that keep you smiling throughout each day.

I love you and are praying that this new cocktail of treatment causes the cancer to retreat. You deserve a break from it all-can you keep the islands as that vision on the horizon where you will sit under palms and wade in gin blue water? You must look to the future to keep you going; I am.

Hugs,
Alexis

Tomorrow comes the Song

Danda, I saw this photo on National Geographic's website, taken of a cube of sea water. I think it's being offered as wall paper among other things. A jigsaw puzzle might be made from it as well! In that little cube there were over 600 individual organisms, all co-existing. It seemed a minute part of A GRAND DESIGN into which we are all thrust in our turn and which we make the most of in our various and sundry ways. You and all of us are part of that "puzzle." Why it is that you have been dealt the blows of "outrageous fortune" and not some other one of us is totally unanswerable, even as we rail against the unfairness of it and want to take Fate on in a dark alley with brass knuckles. I know we are all hovering close by, eager to surround you with love, encouragement, positive thinking, whatever we can to sustain and comfort you, especially when the news is temporarily not so hot. We will not rest tranquilly until you are over this hurdle, but like all these little sea creatures we are bound together to you and one another, believing that you WILL overcome. Alexis is right: you've got all those fine longevity genes from your nonna and they are stronger than the gene that has somehow gone awry and created this mess. There is a clear spot somewhere up ahead. At the end of the day at sleep-away camp, the director used to say, borrowing from a source I can't remember, "Faint not, fight on, tomorrow comes the song." I'm warming up my voice for that tumultuous day. Sending love to you and all the family.

An Environmentally-Unfriendly, Overheated Apartment

Dear Alex,

Thank you for so bravely and generously sharing all of your news. I’m happy that you had a wonderful time in Italy and the story of James climbing stairs is unbearably charming. I’m sorry for the news of the most recent obstacle.

I agree. I look at these photos of you and I wonder how it could be that this person has advanced cancer, has undergone 19 rounds of chemo? She looks so vibrant and light and healthy. If that isn’t the face of strength, I don’t know what is. I am proud to be one of your troops. You are an amazing commander.

To further illustrate your strength for you, I will offer you a comparison. I will share with you a story about someone who demonstrates less strength, much less strength. The other day, Ian and I were walking in the park and it was cold, really cold, and I hadn’t dressed properly. My arms were freezing; my eyes were watering and the eye water was thickening in the cold air; my thighs were going numb (and they’ve got a lot of “protection” (fat) from the cold, so that tells you how cold it was); and between my audible complaints and whining, I kept longing to slip off the road and find a nice tree to curl up under on the ground. I wondered if Ian would notice and if he would go for help and if help would get there in time or if he would need to curl up on the ground too or if wild dogs would find me and eat me. None of these scenarios were appealing, I don’t like lying on the ground and I think I would not like to be eaten by wild dogs either, so I kept going, but I complained and complained. And Alex…I was just cold! That’s all it took for me to have hysterical thoughts. And I knew that we would eventually walk into our environmentally-unfriendly, overheated apartment.

I don’t know what it is like to fight so hard and for so long as you have. How exhausting it must be. More than exhausting even. I wish I could package up some energy, health and happy-feeling and send it to you. I wish I could tell you where your finish line is exactly. I wish I could banish the side effects. I can tell you that I love you and I think of you every day. I think you’re doing a great job fighting this f*#cker. I hope that you will find distraction easier than you have recently. Negative thoughts are natural (see above story), but should not be indulged. They are just thoughts and not real. What is real is that you are here and still fighting and moving forward and you will reach that finish line.

Sending you tons of love and gentle hugs,

Jess

That's What Faith Can Do!

So I was just introduced to a song that has such beautiful and strong lyrics that I think are good reminders for us all right about now. The song is called, "That's What Faith Can Do!", from a band named Kutless. Alex please remember that we all have faith in you and we fight with you.

That's What Faith Can Do ~Kutless

Everybody falls sometimes

Gotta find the strength to rise

From the ashes and make a new beginning

Anyone can feel the ache

You think its more than you can take

But you are stronger, stronger than you know

Don't you give up now

The sun will soon be shining

You gotta face the clouds

To find the silver lining

.

I've seen dreams that move the mountains

Hope that doesn't ever end

Even when the sky is falling

And I've seen miracles just happen

Silent prayers get answered

Broken hearts become brand new

That's what faith can do

.

It doesn't matter what you've heard

Impossible is not a word

It's just a reason for someone not to try

Everybody's scared to death

When they decide to take that step

Out on the water

It'll be alright

Life is so much more

Than what your eyes are seeing

You will find your way

If you keep believing

.

I've seen dreams that move the mountains

Hope that doesn't ever end

Even when the sky is falling

And I've seen miracles just happen

Silent prayers get answered

Broken hearts become brand new

That's what faith can do

.

Overcome the odds

You do have a chance(That's what faith can do)

When the world says you can't

It'll tell you that you can!

.

I've seen dreams that move the mountains

Hope that doesn't ever end

Even when the sky is falling

And I've seen miracles just happen

Silent prayers get answered

Broken hearts become brand new

That's what faith can do

That's what faith can do!

Even if you fall sometimes

You will have the strength to rise

Dear Alex,

Had I been able to answer, I would have asked for the bad news first. I always want to know what is weighing you down, and what you wrestle against- sooner...It doesn't take away from your good time with your family and Nonna, which your pictures clearly depict. I just feel closer to you, knowing that you are not holding anything back.

I know that if you were here, I'd just hug you, my embattled friend. I don't have any great words to say to keep you lifted, and when we get punched, I think it makes sense to cry. So, if I was there, I'd cry with you. I do cry with you....

But, the truth is that you are an incredible force, and you will continue the fight. I just wish that you could have some relief.

Please don't allow those negative thoughts to prevail in your brain. They are toxic and just hurtful. Please continue to look forward toward health and recovery. You will win this battle, this race. We will always be by your side.

All my love to you, and a big,
long, crushing virtual hug.
-Julie

Athena

Hi Panda,

It was nice seeing all the photos and reading that you had a good time in Rome. I also heard from my parents how cute James was and how much they all loved him--the pictures you posted definitely show that too. It was NOT nice reading the news of your scan, but your poem and your attitude gave me great comfort. I loved to see that your spirit, although attacked again and again, stands strong and determined. You are a great warrior. Like Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and war.

Hugs hugs hugs hugs.

Hello My Person!!

You keep doing the best you can and beat this!!!
You are strong and have overcome so much in the past year.
I can't even begin to imagine how you feel. I think you know me pretty well and I'd be doing the same thing you are and having all the same thoughts and no matter what anyone says I would be in my own misery!!
But that's me! You on the other hand can turn anything into a challenge and WILL defeat this crap!! We are all behind you and will pray like never before!! Keep that chin up and only positive thoughts!!!
I'm so glad you had the time with your grandmother. She looks great! Wow 102 she's amazing! You take what ever it is she's done and do that and more!
Your poem is wonderful and I'm sure it helped putting those thoughts in writing. Thank you for sharing it.
We all miss you and talk about you every day! Mark was over last night and sends his best to you and Julian.
Take good care of yourself and keep the chin up!
I love you!!!
Eve

Here I am.

Dear All,

You know when someone asks you, "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" and you try to determine which is the best option? Well, I sit here typing, posing you that same question, and wondering what your response would be.

As your replies cannot reach me, I choose to start with the good. I had a wonderful trip to Rome. While I found the traveling to be very tiring, it was worth every bit of fatigue. As these pictures show (and more will follow), my grandmother was in wonderful form. She and James bonded beautifully... on the first day, he was bringing her candy by the handfuls... by the third day, he was blowing her kisses and gently caressing her face. She engaged with him as only Nonna can, combining a mixture of playfulness, affection, praise and discipline.

I had my alone time with Nonna, and also soaked in her presence as we all sat around chatting to her. Admittedly, I found it hard to "pretend" what my life had been like over the past year since I had last seen her. She immediately commented on my short hair ("Why did you cut it? You look like a little boy"...) and questioned me about my work, my work being the reason I have given her for why I have not visited her before now. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, there were so many times when I had to get up and take a moment as I fought back tears and fought the urge to say, "Nonna, I am having such a hard time". Instead, I had quiet conversations with her in my head, as I held her hand, and silently gave thanks for being able to be with her. And I reminded myself that bringing James to see her was the biggest gift I could give her and give myself, and so we focused on him, and he gave us plenty of joy in return.

In fact, James thrived in his three days there. Not only did he travel well, but he had fun exploring and taking in all of the novelty. You could tell how much he simply enjoyed having more space to run around in! Also, while there, he learned to go up and down stairs on his own - wonderful to watch fear turn into caution turn into calculated confidence. He perfected a backwards crawl as he went down a step that divided two sections of the livingroom, the cute thing being that he would start the backwards crawl very far from the step itself, as if to say, "Just in case, I had better be prepared..."! He discovered himself in the mirror in the hall, smiling at himself, and giving himself kisses. We had some relatives come for lunch on Sunday, and he loved the attention ( and wonderful gifts - hand-knitted sweaters, toys) and the interaction. I was so proud to see how sociable he was - nothing fased him, in fact, he was so curious. He and my Aunt Paola ("Zia Paola") have a special connection, and I loved to see him with her, his eyes wide and happy as he listened to her tone and to the sing-song quality of her voice as she spoke at length to him and showered him in affection. As the photos show, James exhausted himself in all of the excitement, falling soundly asleep amidst the commotion of the Italian family together. I have so many great mental snapshots of him with everyone.

So, yes, the trip was great and worth it on so many levels. So saying goodbye was heart breaking as always, and I simply dream of the next visit, ferverently hoping that it will be soon. Nonna turned 102 years old today,

And the bad news....? Well, I returned to London to have my scans, and the results were disappointing to say the least. Everything has remained stable with the exception of my liver where ther cancer has progressed. Old lesions have grown bigger and they identified some new spots. I was crushed by the news. Simply crushed. Dr. Plowman then presented his next battle plan - a change in chemo treatment (Again! This makes it the fourth chemo protocol....), which would entail a more aggressive cocktail than what I have been on for the past 6 months. With that, I should expect the usual side-effects (pain, nausea, fatigue, hair-loss) but he could not say to what degree. I will get chemo every two to three weeks (to be determined), with new scans after three cycles.

So, tomorrow I start what will be Round #20. I am afraid of and dread tomorrow, for what it is and for what it represents. I have been an emotional mess since the news of the scans, in tears all the time, and having frequent little anxiety attacks which leave me trying to catch my breath. I have had to actively ward off negative thought after negative thought (i.e., wondering how much time I have left, images of my "last moments", visions of how I would say goodbye to James) - it has been torturous and gut wrenching, as you can only imagine. And then I fight with all my might, every ounce of my willpower, to shut those down and focus on me being healthy and well and beating this f&*ker. It is exhausting to fight off those thoughts but I do, as best as I can, so as to save my own sanity. I have never been so scared in my life - it is indescribable.

I look at the photos above and I would never say that I look like someone who has had 19 cycles of chemo. Like someone who has advanced cancer. So, I tell myself, look at the healthy you. Look at the strong you. Look at the stubborn you. Look at the fighter you. I have begun to say affirmations out loud, particularly in moments when my negative thoughts pummel away at me, as a way of refocusing. Also, I can so clearly picture all of the things that I want to do, short and long term, and I tell myself that I will do them. I have projects to develop, places to visit, people to see, love to give, change to initiate. I often envision myself several years from now, and those images feel tangible not fabricated. I talk to my liver, I talk to my body. And I hold onto hope, even when all I can do is sob, because there has to be more to my life than this. I reject any other option than a return to health.

My family has been amazing over the past few days, giving my boosters and peptalks and every kind of battle plan under the sun. New year, new tack, new weapons... but same projected outcome of a sweet-tasting, tear-jerking, personal victory at the end of all of this. You can do this, Danda, you can do this. Believe. 2010 is your year. It is the beginning of your decade. Keep that stride, get those knees up, move those arms... run, Danda, run... you are in this race until you win it.

I leave you with two pieces of writing: one Chiara's and one mine. Chiara's is a card that she gave me yesterday, in which she wrote me a note. The other is one of the many poems that I have been writing over the past year, an exercise which has given me release and comfort. I share both of these pieces of writing because I feel that they really reflect this stage of my marathon. In them, I see strength and belief and the positive energy that continues to propel me forward towards the day when I will cross the finish line a winner.

[Front of Card] "Dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you saw two living creatures, one of them does a poo and the other carries it for him, who would you think is in charge?" [Chiara's note inside the card] "Just to get through the point that although it may look like something or someone has the upper hand, the reality can be quite different. All about perspective. No matter what the cancer does, YOU ARE IN CHARGE."

Taking the Blow

You knock me down
Again.
And again.
Insensitive, invasive.
You try to steal ground,
Quietly wanting to own what is mine.
My mind spins from your slap,
My heart hurts from your punch,
My body tires from your hit.
Yes, I cry, because you sadden me.
You anger me.
You frustrate me.
You threaten me.
But I am so much more powerful than you.
I am tougher.
I own endurance, I own perseverance.
I own this body.
I own this fight.
You picked the wrong battle.
You underestimated me.
I shall clear you.
And never look back.

Hugs to all.

mutual bolstering

Hi, Alex -
I miss you I miss you I miss you. I so very much want to be with you. Not only doI want to bolster you in a ny little way I can with love, hugs, laughter, shared tears, shared appreciation of James, love of tea and People magazine...but I could use some of your bolstering as well. Things have been a little intense around here lately, and I crave to snuggle into your friendship. Why is that darn pond so freakin' big???? Ugh.
I hope your travels went smoothly. I know you will write about it when you can, and when you are ready. in the meantime, as always, I am thinking about you every day, and sending lots of love. - Lindsay

Hope!

Dearest Danda,

I am back on the blog after Christmas celebrations in Christmas Cove, wedding planning at Caneel Bay and Mom’s 70th birthday celebrated in style. The islands welcomed me home with open arms and Dad greeted me as we approached the runway. There was a small rainbow that appeared out of the ominous clouds over the hills of St. Thomas-it was undeniably Dad reminding me that he is still with us. There was also the frigate bird that circled Christmas Cove the morning that we sailed over to celebrate the day. Dad is ever present and I am slowly beginning to accept our loss and believe that he is in the heavens catching up with old friends free of pain and worry.

Ω I am leaving this little symbol in front of these words. I just hit the keyboard by accident and it came up on the screen. I think it is the symbol for pie, but I think it is also reminiscent of a horseshoe so I am keeping it because horseshoes are good luck! Sometimes there is a lot to be said for luck and hope.

My mother gave me a book after I saw her reading it, called Healing After Loss. It is by a woman who lost her daughter to an accident at an early age. She writes daily meditations on healing and grieving and I have found the book my touchstone since loosing Dad. She starts every meditation with a quote and then writes about the subject from her own experience. The words below comment on hope-I think that they can resonate with anyone who is going through a difficult time so I hope you can make use of it.

Hope is the thing with feather
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without words
And never stops at all.

~Emily Dickinson

Sometimes we know as much by its absence as by its presence. When we’re depressed, hope seems almost unknowable, a total illusion. We feel inwardly flattened, unable to move, or as if we are just going through the motions. The song of hope of which the poet speaks of is muted. Yet the will of the spirit, as well as of the body, is for life, even for zestful life. Then something happens—a friend calls and we mobilize ourselves, making an effort to be useful, to ourselves or to someone else. The energy quickens. At least the moment has some meaning again and that persistent note of hope, without which we cannot live, starts thrumming in our minds once more.

~Martha Whitmore Hickman

I hope every day for big things and small things knowing that some of my thoughts will play out with silver linings and some will not. But there is always tomorrow. Today I hope that your visit to Rome was fulfilling and that being with Nonna gave you strength and hope-she is a rarity!

Much Love,
Lex

"Impossible" Dream

Hi Danda,

I hope the trip to Italy went marvelously well, and that you´re back safe and sound. Today on the BBC they mentioned the inspiring story of Geoff Holt, a quadriplegic who has single-handedly crossed the Atlantic onboard a catamaran called "Impossible Dream". Geoff has just arrived to his final destination: the British Virgin Islands, the place where he had the accident which left him paralyzed from the torso down 25 years ago. Geoff is also the first disabled person to have sailed around the UK solo! Thought his video may be as inspiring to you and our fellow bloggers as it has been for me!

http://geoffholt.com/videos

And always on the sailing theme...yesterday, while I was doing some overdue tidying up, I came across an Ellen MacArthur quote which exemplifies her courage and audacity in beating the world record as the fastest solo circumnavigation of the globe in 2005:

No one knows what he can do until he tries

As is our confidence, so is our capacity

If it is to be, it is up to me

Nothing is impossible to a willing heart

Winners never quit, quitters never win

Make or find a way.

Bacione! Sally

IS THIS JAMES?

Found this card the other day in a box of oddments and thought it looked just like James! Perhaps, he will have a pooch one of these days that resembles this terrier mix. The two of them would make a mighty amount of mischief if given the chance! I will save the original and bring it with me when I next come to London or when you come here for the wedding you can collect it. See if you can borrow Max the next time you go to Seven Oaks and take a comparison shot for posterity. Hugs from the very warm and sunny Caribbean. I almost hate to rub it in! LSC

Welcome 2010

Hello Alex,

I have stored some extra hugs and positive energy to send your way as we begin this new year. I look forward to hearing about your trip to Italy. There is something amazing about seeing the world through a child's eyes - and just think about all that James will see and feel.

You are in my thoughts all the time.
Love,
Lisa

Hello!!!

Hello to all and a very Happy New Year!!

Alex, the pictures are too precious!!

I just think that James is the cutest thing ever.

He needs to model for some childrens clothing magazine or something!

I have to admit some days I go on the blog, read a bit (everything you write of course) and look at all the pictures and read about them. You are truly blessed to have such wonderful friends and family in your life and this WILLLLL get you to a better 2010!!

Love to you each and every day!!

Eve

Tiredness and Triumphs.

Dear All,

With two feet firmly in 2010, I have felt the momentum of the New Year. December was a rough month for me, physically and emotionally. I had too many moments of questioning, "Can I do this?", too many instances of feeling depletion at all levels. And with that came tremendous sadness, a lot of self-pity, and a feeling of "losing hold" on resolve... I find it hard to describe the "tiredness" I feel from all of this, and as I shut the door on 2009, I felt deeply, deeply tired.

But as with all marathons, you take things one step at a time, you let yourself be carried by the cheers of the crowd when your own voice weakens, you keep your eye on the finish line and trust that your legs will hold you up... and you pat yourself on the back for still being in the race in the first place. For hanging on in there. For working through the "tiredness". For not giving up.

And so I started 2010 acknowledging the "tiredness", but then stepping things up a notch. I have increased my supplements, been even more diligent about my diet, taken even greater care of my body. I have recreated my visualisations, dedicated more time to listening to my body, made more mental notes of what is important to me. I have allowed myself to plan. I have re-owned belief. I have let myself cry knowing that it's okay to do so today, tomorrow, the next day... because that is how I feel in the moment, and then it too shall pass. And I have told myself, a hundred times a day, "You ARE going to do this".

And as always, I have immersed myself in James. My family and I have spent some lovely, happy days with him. Long walks in the park, cosy afternoons at home. Time together. He changes every day and lately he has been going through a growth spurt - ravenous appetite, wonderful playfulness, great curiosity... he is a boy with a mission, seeking novelty and adventure and interaction in all that surrounds him. He pushes all boundaries and still manages to get a grin out of you as you struggle to keep a straight face. He has a girlfriend! (see photos). He is my dancer, my playmate, my mechanical engineer (see photos), my joy. He is a million and one reasons why 2010 has started off on a wonderful note.

And, to end this entry on a great note, I am booked on a flight to Rome this Friday, to see my grandmother and some of my Italian relatives. A short, three-night trip sandwiched in between my treatments, but precious nonetheless. About to turn 102 years of age, my grandmother is a remarkable woman with the biggest of hearts, and I have missed seeing her so badly since I was diagnosed. I have missed sharing James with her. She still has never been told that I am sick (and never will be), and while I have longed to hear her wisdom and have her comfort guide me through this marathon, I am glad that she has been protected from worry. So while we will not talk of my situation, I will instead soak up the energy and warmth of her presence. For, in her eyes, I am healthy and whole. And maybe, just maybe, that vision of hers will become my own again soon. And tiredness will make way for triumph.

Hugs to all.

Wishing you Love and Renewal!

Danda dear, you may be feeling quite low as I write and this time it´s me who needs to take a deep breath as I learn to accept that this is what you need to go through in order to reach the ultimate healing that awaits you. I attach this funny photo from the Balearic island of Formentera (one of my favourite Mediterranean islands for having no high-rise buildings, surpringly well-protected dune systems, and breathtaking crystal clear waters!). As Formentera has been literally invaded by Italians, the Italian title of "Love and Iodine" on this beach "chiringuito" is not surprising. Love and Iodine? I find it great! Two key ingredients! Love, as has already been well exposed in this blog by various of your troops, has been an inseparable companion this past year permeating this roller-coaster ride of yours. No shortage of that, for sure! And iodine is one of the healing components of the sea. Iodine is therefore an analogy for the sea and all its physical, emotional and spiritual healing properties.

To me there is nothing as powerful, immense, vast, and healing as the sea. It is a vivid reflection of the wonders of this earth and of the powers of our own human experiences. At times, the sea has reminded me to be patient like the gentle waves washing up on a beach, one after the other, repeatedly, endlessly, soothingly. At others, it has whispered to my ear through the deafening sounds of a storm and its turbulent waters. It has whispered that it´s ok to bring out my most fiery emotions, to spill them out as the sea does for a few hours or days before it returns to it´s peaceful tranquility. But whether in turmoil or at peace, the sea is always real, true, faithful to Life in all its glory and its challenges. It never loses the connection with its inner essence. Deep below the surface the sea remains unruffled, quiet, at peace. No storm on the surface or human selfishness polluting and overfishing its waters can disturb that peaceful core. To me, Danda, you are similar to the sea. I have laughed, cried, admired, worried, believed, and risen up reading your blog entries. And each time I´ve read your lines, seen your beautiful self in photos or in person, and heard your gentle voice, I have been left in awe by your positivity, your inner strength, your capacity to keep smiling that generous smile we all love so much.

So now that the curtain has dawned on 2009, let us welcome 2010 wishing for, working towards, and believing in...Love and Iodine (in all its healing-related meanings)! I would like to finish off with a reference to that advice on not getting your hopes up. I admit that (as a very transparent dreamer...je, je!) I´ve been told the same more than once too. When I was younger I would get defensive or feel saddened by the words. Now with the benefit of hindsight and having lived the realization of various beautiful dreams in my life (thanks to perseverance, trust and a good dose of "testardagine"/"testarudez"/stubbornness!), I simply answer with my own variation of that famous quote:

Shoot for the moon, you might fall on a star!

No matter what, Danda, it´s a NEW YEAR and the fruit-picking time may be closer than you think! You have sewn sooooo many seeds in 2009, and you never know when they will start sprouting!

Love, Sally

time to scheme, or still a dream?

Hello, my dear -
One of the things that 2010 has brought so far for me is an intensified wish to come and visit you. Hmmm....
Love you - Lindsay

All those hopes multiplied a thousands times over!

Dear Danda,
2010-- a new beginning with all sorts of possibilities!!! Just want you to know that we are praying that your stars are aligned in the heavens for good news, improved prognoses, less pain, favorable blood counts, healthy bones and tissues, and happier days with your dearest James, the rest of your family, and your legions of friends! With magic wands waving, we Griffith Girls salute you and welcome this watershed year with you.