Painful nostalgia

Just to confuse half term even more, my eldest sons school breaks up a week before my other children's various schools, which completely buggers up my last week of morning freedom, er I mean , lets me have some "quality" time with no.1 son! , quality time in inverted commas indeed.

Well as he started a new big school this year I thought it would be nice if he spent a day or so with his new chums, so we invited one to come swimming for the day. Just happens to be the one friend who is the son of my other children's french teacher (great pick there son) but hey ho, off we go to the local leisure centre swimming.

I myself did not partake, just sat in the viewing gallery without a coffee as the blasted cafeteria was closed, just as well as paint stripper resembles the quality of coffee on offer there.

So there I sat watching the children with my quick crosswords book which after attempting several and not completing them leaving me to feel like a total do-do I started to people watch and contemplate.

It was 4 years ago next Friday when our world around us, as we knew it then collapsed.

One night of severe agony in my tummy 8 weeks after the birth of our 5th child, a rush to casualty and an emergency 5 hour operation later and I discovered in intensive care I had advanced aggressive bowel cancer, complete with colostomy bag. If that wasn't enough 3 days later just after emerging from intensive care, another fatal blow, the other half of my bowel burst, leaving me with another 5 hour op peritonitis and an ieliostomy, some people get ologys you know, but I had to go one further.

A dark bleak time followed, 5 children , a damp house in need of renovation we had just moved to, and advanced cancer, things you would have thought couldn't have got any worse.

They did.

6 months of agonising chemo, with every side effect you can and cannot possibly imagine, radiotherapy, builders (you must read my book A November to remember, and yes I try to plug it in every blog!)10 more hours of surgery, I don't think any one could even attempt to beat my determination to get through.

Whilst I was frequenting casualty my husband was in charge of the children. dropping the ones at school to school, the one at nursery to nursery , and then off to the leisure centre to put baby in the creche whilst he had a valuable hour to himself to pray whilst on the running machine that I would come back safe.

Sitting by that very same gym today, I had to wipe a tear from my eye, as it oh so very much reminded me of that fate full time. The time when all I wanted was to go home, praying every night I would start to get better soon, get some strength to do the most menial of tasks, frustrated at my body's lack of compromise to get me home sooner.

I used to watch the nurses change there shifts, to go home to there families and sob each night, knowing I would miss that evenings good night kiss from my little ones, knowing it would be another night without mummy for them, how that scar still throbs inside. Even when I am now chasing the little buggers up the stairs for the umpteenth time to get there jammys on!.

Life has indeed moved on. The house no longer damp, the children no longer very small and the baby no longer a baby. My husband thank full that he is back at work and no longer doing the school run!, and me, a different person completely.

Thank full for life, scarred by the pain cancer causes, but ever, ever so much in the game.

A November to remember is available from Lynn's bowel cancer campaign www.bowelcancer.tv and all good bookshops.