Empty

I don't remember last time I was this lonely.

How did my life turn into this?

Memories

I’ve taken on a project of going through all of our home made videos. When I was a kid my parents filmed a lot, not only holildays and birthday’s, but everyday stuff as well. A few years ago my dad managed to get all of it into a computer and now it is all in my computer. I’m going through them all and cutting them down to more manageable lengths and sorting them by year and event. It’s a lot of fun to sit and watch. I’ve so far gotten up to the end of 1989. Which means my brother is a funny 4 year old and I am a very blonde 2 year old. Sometimes it’s hilarious.

One bit which I got stuck watching over and over again is when we’re at my paternal grandparents house and playing in the garden. My grandfather was an amazing man, truly one of a kind. He was the epitome of what a grandfather should be. Patient. Kind. Playful. Funny. Trustworthy. Truly amazing. He passed away in April 2005 and I still miss him a lot. It’s a lot of fun to watch the old clips with him in them. He was very special to me and we were very close. He taught me so much. I love this photo of us. Absolutely love it. Probably one of the best photos I have of him and of me. Just look how cool we are

Relax

We celebrated with buying piles of cake and eating them at 11am. I don't think anyone of us had dared to hope. We all assumed the worst. I certainly did.

But medicine has done its wonders. And it's gone in the right direction. It isn't curable. We know that. But for now we've won a small (or massive) victory. Today we've been able to relax. Tonight we will sleep. Because we said a loud FUCK YOU to cancer today.

The verdict

I don't think I've ever dreaded a day as much as I'm dreading tomorrow. If I don't fall asleep, will that avoid tomorrow from coming? Tomorrow we will get the verdict. If it worked or not. Not that it can ever work in the way we want it to. But I guess everything is relative. Even this.

In English people sometimes say 'I'm scared to death.' the Swedish equivalence is 'scared for my life'. My mum said that earlier today about tomorrow. And usually when those words are used they aren't literal. Rarely people are actually scared for their lives. In this case it couldn't be more literal. I'm scared for her life. I'm terrified to the extent that I'm not quite sure what to do. I've written earlier about living in my bubble of denial. Now that's getting more difficult. But I still avoid thinking about it. If I let myself do that I can feel myself falling apart.

I really really really don't want tomorrow to come. While I'm so grateful I'm home so I can be here for this, a part of me wishes I was still in London. Then I'd be far away from this nightmare.

The thought of falling asleep and having to go to the hospital tomorrow makes me nauseous. Why did this have to happen to us? To her? I am so angry. And sad. I am really sad.

My goal tomorrow? To not faint. That's what I (almost) did when we were there in June.

More autumn feeling

I was going to impress you with yet another stunning photo of the place I call home. But no. I seem to have bery bad luck currently with cameras in general, not just my proper one, but the one on my phone as well. I decided this morning when I pulled up the blinds that I was going to go up on our mountain and go for a walk/run after breakfast because the weather is amazing. And I did. Very proud that I actually did it and didn’t just stop at the thought of doing it. I took my UK phone with me so I could take some pretty photos of the lovely autumn weather since my plan was to walk/run it didn’t seem appropriate to bring my dslr. Said and done. I went for my walk (yes, I walked much more than I ran). 7.5km later I came to the end of the loop which is by a lake and it was so gorgeous I was going to take a photo. But “camera failed” is all my phone wanted to tell me and refused to take the photo! So, I’m sorry, no pretty photo from the mountain today. You’ll have to make do with another one. From our garden here at my parents house. This autumn is getting prettier by the minute. Can’t believe it’s barely rained at all since I came home now close to two months ago. (just because I wrote that it will most likely pour down for two weeks straight starting tomorrow).

This is where I live

On days like these I have to admit to quite enjoying my small town life. This is where I live. And I shouldn’t be surprised, not by the fact that I live here nor that it’s very beautiful. I grew up here. It’s home. Like in this photo for instance. I’ve gone skating on this small lake. I’ve been fishing in it. I’ve dyed wool in it. There’s a tiny gap between the trees on the far right of this photo. In that gap you can almost, almost, hint a buidling. That’s my primary school. So this truly is my neck of the woods. And this time of year it is more beautiful than ever.

I realised the other day that I haven’t been in Sweden in October since 2006. And I know Britain turns into various shades of yellow and orange and red as well at this time of year. But I can’t help myself, I’m impressed by what Sweden is showing me. It is absolutely stunning.

Autumn leaves

My camera has been acting up lately. It’s actually been stupid ever since we went to Italy where it decided to stop working. After having had some words with Canon however I was sent a firmware update that I just did and hopefully now it should all work fine.

I did manage to snap some photos this weekend though when we went up to Berget (which means the mountain, but it’s not a very tall mountain). It’s all very pretty right now with all the autumn colours everywhere! Might head out into the garden a little bit later and snap some photos and test if the new firmware works properly.

You mean the world

Usually the days are good. And we get on with it. Our daily life. The difference being that I am home and that my mum is home. Other than that everything is normal.

But then days like today happen. I took my mum to chemo today in the morning. And I went back home, had breakfast and got ready for my day. Then I went to get my mum from chemo four hours later. And then we had lunch. And now, an old friend is here. She's the mum of a childhood friend of mine. I haven't seen this friend for years and years. We grew up on the same street. There were lots of kids my age on our street when I was growing up and she was one of them. We played a lot when we were really young. And drifted apart when we started school since we ended up in different classes. But her parents have lived on our street for as long as we have. We wave when we pass each other in our cars. And we say hi if we walk past each other. But that's the kind of street we live on. A wonderful, quiet street where quite a few people have lived for a long time. Couples who moved here when they started families in the middle of the -80's. Now most of these homes are occupied by parents whose children have moved out. It's a good street. And at moments like this I realise it even more.

Because this woman, my friend's mum. She heard about my mum from her husband who ran into my mum one day a few weeks ago. And now she's here. Because as she said when she walked in the door. "We don't have much contact now the kids are grown. But we're here. And we want to be here." And now they're sitting in the kitchen talking. And my mum is telling the story from the very beginning. From being ill in May to being diagnosed in June to today. And what's to come. And I'm sitting in my room. And I can hear them talking. And yes. I'm eavesdropping. I don't want to. Because I enjoy my little bubble. But just as I know how important it is for my mum to keep on repeating the story as a way of processing it all. It's good for me to keep on hearing it as a way for me to process it. And once again I heard her repeat what the doctors told us on that very first visit. "It has spread. We can't operate. Radiation is not an option. There is no cure." Those horrible, horrible words that sometimes out of nowhere pops into my head. 

Since all of this happened I've realised how unfair the world is. My mum's guest just asked if they know why it happened to her. And my mum replied that in 9 out of 10 cases of cancer in the stomach it is purely bad luck. 

But I've also learned how amazing my family is. And how amazing people around my family think my parents are, and especially my mum. There is such a huge network around us. Colleagues. Family. Extended family. Old friends. New friends. My friends. My brother's friends. Distant friends. Everyone is being so wonderful and fighting this with us. I hope you all know how much you mean to us, to me. I don't know how I would react if someone I knew was going through what we're going through. Because it's a difficult situation. how do you face someone who is dealing with this kind if thing? But everyone is being amazing. And honest. And open. So please, continue being the wonderful people that you are. You are doing everything right.

A lovely Tuesday

It's quiet at work for my dad at the moment so yesterday he came home for lunch and then took the rest of the afternoon off. While we were having lunch he gave me this look and said: 'maybe, perhaps, if you want to, we could go and play a bit?' Yes, those were his words. Very hesitant. And in this family the words "go and play a bit" can only refer to one thing. Golf. It was a beautiful, sunny autumn day. Around 10 degrees, and the leaves are now turning yellow and red everywhere I turn my head. So we went up to the course and tee'd off on the 9-hole course. It was amazing. I didn't play great. But who cares? I spent two hours with my dad. Outside. In glorious weather. And it was quiet. And peaceful. And fun. And from time to time I just stood there, looking around at the beautiful surroundings and thinking that it's pretty good to be back here. At that moment everything was good with the world. And I forgot about everything cancer related. And unemployment related. And missing-London related. It was just pure Sweden.

It was great.

And then in the evening my dad and I got in the car and drove to my grandmother who had her actual birthday yesterday. We celebrated her on Sunday, but yesterday was the actual day. She's now officially 90. That is so crazy old it's difficult to understand. Pretty amazing.