24 December 2012

FESTIVE GREETINGS!

I guess this is my version of the "round robin" newsletter - something I never thought I'd do! - although it's in no way a summary of the year, just an update on the last few months. In spite of the relentless negativity of my previous post, alongside the tough patches I've also had some really enjoyable times during this chemo (and I've put in lots of cheery photos to prove it!). Culturally, I've gone to a couple of great exhibitions, including the Wildlife Photographer of the Year and an Ansel Adams retrospective (followed by hanging out at the museum cafes!); I had a lovely evening seeing a friend who I have sporadic violin lessons with perform a wonderful baroque programme at the Wigmore Hall; and with friends I've discovered or re-explored a few  of London's wonderful parks. 

Reflective sculpture in Holland Park

The Japanese Garden in Holland Park 
Autumn colours in St James' Park

I've had some great times with family, one of which was taking my nieces for a riding lesson as their birthday present - a hobby which I adored in my early teens and which it's a real pleasure to see them enjoy too. (Sorry for the poor picture quality - my mobile phone is an ancient model only suited to, um, making phone calls.)

Frederika (12)
Ingrid (7)
Last week I went ice-skating at Somerset House with my sisters, nieces and nephews, which was great fun (and I was delighted to find I had the stamina to skate the full hour, albeit with lots of chatting). My cousin Amanda joined us - being pregnant, as a non-participating cheerleader and official photographer.

Me with my sister Annabel (back left), mother of Frederika and Ingrid,
and Belinda (second from left), mother of Eddie (11) and David (6)
Me and Frederika
With our cousin Amanda, third from right

I've also had the pleasure of meeting several friends' babies. A few years ago I found it quite poignant to spend time with babies, as I'd always assumed I would have children myself at some point, yet it never happened for me. Now I'm much more comfortable about it - for a start, having a family to look after would have made my current situation much more challenging - and, because so many people I've met through the cancer world have died (around 20 at last count), I find it really moving, inspiring and life-affirming to see, and hold, and marvel at, the preciousness of new life. 

With Tommy, the son of my friend Maria from psychology training

Etta with her mum Mo, a friend through the orchestra
With Austin, the son of work colleagues / friends Karen and Annette

Friends have been, as ever, been an invaluable source of support, and even when I've not been feeling great (or especially) it's been really important to have not only sympathetic ears but also the chance to be interested in other people's lives for a change. It's felt a real privilege to be able to support others through their own challenges and not always be leaning on them; it enables me to feel that despite coping with my own difficult times I still have something to offer - I've learnt that unless friendship is truly a two-way process it's easy to feel like nothing more than a burden and a worry for those you care about. More lightheartedly, it's wonderful having an array of people in my life who cheer me up and make me laugh (and, even more impressively, laugh at my jokes), as well as giving me the opportunity to have fun - after our December concert I recklessly stayed out till the early hours at a party (I'd almost forgotten what that's like!), and it was great to ignore for once what I "should" be doing for the sake of my health and to socialise like old times. 

In addition to my circle of close friends, since the summer I've caught up with several old friends I hadn't seen for a long time, including a friend from my teenage years in Brighton Youth Orchestra, one from my first years in London in the mid-90s who now lives in Grand Cayman, a Dutch friend who I first met backpacking in Tibet, and another from the wonderful big-group skiing holidays of my 20s. It's been lovely to reconnect with these people from the various different stages of my life, and to revisit those formative experiences and friendships. I feel very blessed to have so many people who care about me, and to be in touch still with so many who have shared significant (and fun!) stages of my life; it reminds me that the challenges I'm going through now are in no way the sum total of who I am or what my life means, and that's an incredibly important realisation.

I apologise for not sending any Christmas cards again this year - it seemed a good way to reduce the lists of "shoulds" in my head and conserve my energy - but I've been delighted to receive news and good wishes from so many people in my life. Thank you to all who keep in contact, whether frequently or sporadically: I really appreciate you taking the initiative to stay in touch as I find it much easier to respond than to initiate communication. 

I'll be spending Christmas at my sister Annabel's, along with my dad and his wife Phoebe (my other sister Belinda will be with her in-laws). As an agnostic, the main significance of Christmas for me is closer to the pagan concept of celebrating light, warmth, love, joy and abundance during the darkest and coldest time of the year when it's hard to imagine the spring. This idea resonates particularly strongly with me at the moment, during the toughest few months I've had since my diagnosis and when there's no real end in sight: what better time to celebrate the simple pleasure of being alive right now, by sharing food, drink, gifts and time out from the worries of our everyday lives with those I love. Despite what I'm dealing with I still have much to be thankful for, and to treasure, and at the risk of sounding sentimental this feels an appropriate time of year to appreciate everything that's good in my life. 

Thank you all so much for reading this - sharing my ups and downs and supporting me in so many ways, including your thoughts, prayers and good wishes. I hope that all of you, wherever you'll be, and however and whatever you're celebrating, have a peaceful and joyful Christmas, and I wish you all possible health and happiness in 2013!


4 comments:

  1. Fab pictures, you all look great and as if you're having a wonderful time!

    We are well, shall see Humph and Kate et al tomorrow, my lot the day after, and Amy &co next week - will get them all to have a look at this post :-)

    Jeep we can ll get together soonish, lots of love Emily x

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  2. Amanda Foster29/12/12

    Hey Sylv, lovely post for Christmas. Hope you had an excellent one. I was very impressed with your skating skills! Really nice to see you all for such a festive occasion. Here's to your improving health in 2013 xxx

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  3. Anonymous1/1/13

    Dear Sylvia,
    Happy New Year from NZ. Thank you for your card and blog details. I had to ring you straight after I read the first couple of lines of the blog as I was in shock. It was lovely to hear your voice and you sound just the same. I can't believe it has been 13 years since you kindly picked us as your flatmates and 5 years since you were sitting on the beach here with us. I got off the phone a few hours ago and have sat glued to your blog all night. You are truly amazing how you have shown such grace and courage. The detail in your entries is honest and I cried as a read on. I'm so sorry to hear about Robbie. I felt like jumping on a plane to hug you. Your strength is amazing. Hope I'm not blabbing on. I just wanted to let you know that I'm sending you my love and you are in my thoughts. I've joined up for the email thing and will keep reading your blog. Beautiful photography. Lots of Love Mel (& Greg) xxx

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  4. Hi,

    I have a quick question about your blog, would you mind emailing me when you get a chance?

    Thanks,

    Cameron

    cameronvsj(at)gmail.com

    ReplyDelete