… with a glass of wine and a cat or two on my lap. Heaven.
This week’s Friday Foto Finder challenge is “game”.
Here’s a photo taken a few years ago at the old “casa az” at Christmas time.
The table was set up with Christmas games: chess, backgammon and scrabble.
Check out what other Friday Foto Finders are posting over here!
It was a crazy busy day, starting off with catching an earlyish train to Jerez for a massive wine tasting – about 50 wineries from across Spain were showing off their best. This was followed by this fabulous lunch you can see up there, after which I had a bit of time to catch up with my friend Sylvie who happened to be in town for the day before I had to race back to the station to get the train back home (made it with 7 minutes to spare). As soon as I got back to Sevilla I took the tram to the centre in time to pick up my tapas tour clients for the evening. Phew! I’d like to write more about the wine tasting event on Azahar in Sevilla. Perhaps next week…?
I don’t know why yesterday’s PET scan felt more – what? – meaningful, stressful, TERRIFYING. I mean, since I was first diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer in May 2008 I’ve had more than a dozen of the fuckers, so why did this one feel so important? Maybe it’s because I’m nearing the all-important 5-YEAR mark, when I will “graduate” to having the scans less frequently and may also get the pesky chemo port removed. Or perhaps it’s because I’ve not actually been feeling very well lately, especially with abdominal issues. In any case, I was really feeling like this time I was about to get Bad News.
And then I didn’t.
I had arrived at the hospital bright and early yesterday, having opted to go on my own mostly because I don’t know anyone here who would really be of help if the worst thing happened. The best people I know for this are the friends who are actually working at the hospital. And with my trusty iPhone I can be in touch with all of you guys via Twitter. Believe me when I say that this is the biggest comfort I have when going through these tests. Knowing you’re all there. It means everything to me.
In a way it’s become quite routine, though things have changed a bit since Ricardo retired and Pilar has only been working part time. But at least Isabel is still there and, as always, she took care of me very well. This also means that I get my test results before leaving the hospital and don’t have to wait until whenever my next appointment with oncology happens. Anyhow, the routine is that I get injected with the radioactive isotope and have to wait awhile for it to be circulating before I get put into the machine. Then I have to lie still for about half an hour (which is ALWAYS the time I get an itchy nose or something similar). After that I am sent off to have some much needed coffee and some brekky while they have a look at the images. When I get back I either have to go through the machine a second time or else am told I can go. But not before I get my results.
After Isabel gave me the good news yesterday (all clear but I still have inflammation around the scar tissue) I walked home in the sunshine with happy tears streaming down my cheeks. Why on earth have I been so lucky? And why do I feel like this time is so different? Why do I still feel different since yesterday (and in a good way)? I really don’t know why or even how to explain this difference. All I know is that I’m Happy. With a capital H.
… PET scan time! By the time many of you read this I’ll probably already be in the machine, since I have to be there early, around 7.45. The plan is to get home in time to do my lunchtime Sevilla Tapas Tour, which was booked long before I knew my scan date. Peter is on “standby” in case I get bad news as I rather doubt I’ll be in the mood to be sociable if that happens. As you can tell, scanxiety is much the same as always. Hoping for the best, terrified that I might hear the worst, wishing I’d eaten more broccoli, had drunk less wine, etc, etc.
But if all goes well this might be my last every-six-months scan, although I don’t “officially” hit the five-year mark until the end of July. If I do “graduate” to once-a-year scans then I think they may also remove the chemo port, which would be a relief. But I’m getting way ahead of myself. I just want to be okay. I know that I’ve been incredibly lucky so far. Please, please, please let my luck hold out some more. I really want to watch Morcilla grow up.
Fingers crossed everybody!
I took this photo of Morcilla this morning … it’s a bit blurry because she wouldn’t keep still and kept trying to climb the curtains. So she is one year old today but still very much a kitten. You can see how long she is, though she’s still small compared to the other two. But it’s hard to imagine her as small as this now! Also can’t believe that I almost called her Smudge.
And it would have been Azar’s 19th birthday today. But if I still had Azar I wouldn’t have taken in Morcilla. That’s life. Well, if I am lucky I will have as many happy years with Morcilla as I had with Azar. She has really helped heal my heart. Happy birthday little girl!
Just finished watching True Detective, which is one of the best series I’ve seen in ages, with some of the best dialogue ever. This is the opening song by the Handsome Family. I usually skip series intros after seeing a couple of episodes but I listened to this one each time.