Sazbol

So another quick update – I appreciate that these are few and far between these days, but I wanted to let you know about another little project of mine.

Along with a small band of other fools that I have tricked with promises of fine pints of Murphy’s, I am cycling from London to Cork in a couple of weeks. “What on Earth for?” I hear you cry. Well, since Sarah did so much to bring the people of these two great cities together it seemed fitting to continue to share the love and pedal between them.  We are doing this in Sarah’s memory and also to raise bucket loads of cash for Leukaemia & Lymphoma Research – a very worthy charity to support.

To find out more and to sponsor the team – please visit our website.

Please give generously to this very important cause!
Thanks for supporting us.

I’d like to formally notify everyone of the arrangements for Sarah’s funeral in Cork. All are welcome to attend if possible:

Removal Monday at 6:30pm from O’Connors funeral home, Sarsfield’s Road Wilton to The Church of Real Presence Curraheen. Requiem mass on Tuesday at 1:00pm followed by a burial at St. Oliver’s Cemetery Carrigrohane. No flowers please. Donations if desired, to Leukaemia & Lymphoma Research.

Sunset, the end of the day. The end of a long and difficult journey. A time to hang up those boxing gloves; the fight was long and brutal but fought bravely and with great courage.

Cancer – you won this one

You have taken a daughter, a sister and the very best friend anyone could every ask for and I hate you for that.

But strangely, in what you have taken away, you have given another precious thing. A network of unbreakable bonds of love and understanding and a vow to remember to ask “What would Sarah do?” whenever we need her. I won’t say thanks for this gift as it is a poor substitute for what we have all lost, but I’ll take it all the same.

Saturday night and I’m still locked away in hotel hospital.

I’m very unhappy about this situation. I should be watching my mate Orla play at the Royal Court. All my other Irish mates are there. Why am I still here?

Thats a good question.

I was feeling better then temps came back, my cough gets worse and I am suddenly vomiting again. It’s been a week of ups and downs, transfusions, arm butchery and general unwellness.

That’s what I mean by butchery. That’s what happens when you lose a hickman line and have weak veins.

I’ve been too tired to blog even. Not good.

Things had better start a changing or I’m starting a dirty protest.

I feel like I’ve just woken up from a deep coma.

I had chemo on Thursday and I think that floored me quite a bit. Ive just slept since friday.

The chest infection is calming and I am now more mobile without various tubes and IV attachments, which is all good.

Hopefully, I’ll be out by Wednesday….well, i’d definitely better be out by Friday because I need to see my best mate’s play at the weekend.

I have a tv and my kindle but – when I’m nnot asleep – I find myself mostly watching people dying.

That’s kind of weird but you can’t avoid it in here.

It’s more the family I find interesting as they are emotional and awkward and don’t know what to do.

A Jamaican elderly woman arrived yesterday, who don’t look so hot. The family have arrived on mass and they all stand around bumping into each other. The men lurk in the hall way, the women fuss around kissing and hugging the sick woman, propping her this way and that, and they kids hide in the corner with tears in their eyes.

None of this is pleasant. They don’t know if they’ll see their mum/sister/gran in the morning, so they all just stare at her.

Waiting and watching a loved one die must be one of the hardest things to do. Not as hard as dying, but similar. Relatives feel helpless and want it to happen quickly to avoid suffering but also want to prolong things.

There is no correct way to behave. If you wanted to strip naked and run madly through the hospital, then no one would mind.

Last week, the woman next to me took a turn and moved to a side room. I met her son the next day and he was a broken man. He said: “she’s only in her seventies but this cancer came quick. I don’t understand it”

The deep clean team were in cleaning the side room the next day. All trace of her hospital life removed by two men in suits. I guess her son still doesn’t understand.

So today, I salute the families of the sick; the ones who smile and cry and kiss and comfort and wait and hope but really just don’t understand.

Not sure what day it is as the last few days have rolled into one long continuous day.

I’ve been bed bound since I came in and all I do is sleep, cough, get hot&sweaty, take drugs and sleep some more.
The Different nurses faces that appear at my bed indicate the transition from day to night.

But really nothing changes and it’s just one long sticky day in Hotel Hospital. I’m getting very bored and just want out.

I’m getting better but very slowly. These infections really knock the stuffing out of me.

The other ladies on the ward are sleepy birds too, so it is a fairly non-rock n’ roll Kind of ward.

Anyway, this long continuous day can’t last forever and soon normality will reign again a nd I can leave this mad house.

It’s been a snoozy Saturday.

I had another fever this morning which tends to whack me out. Overall, the temps have been calming down and my nasty chest infection is more under control.

Just for some reason I seem to spike every night at about 5am. Don’t know why.

But the good news is that my heart rate is coming down and not as much of a worry.

The bad news is that Ireland and England are out of the Rugby World Cup.

But, as it is the weekend, I think we should all take some advice from a wise frog.

I know it worked for me today.

(however the English may find it hard to take advice from frogs right now)