I'm interested in views on short trips away from safety. I know this has been discussed here and there on-site. My concerns are focused on general views on leaving sanctity rather than practical questions such as insurance, etc.
I think it's fair to say that, in social terms, I have always led an unconventional life. I was always a "career woman"; never interested in children or marriage or strictly monogamous relationships. Lovers, never the affiance. This means that by the age of 43, I may not have a classic infrastructure to my life, but I have legions of friends scattered everywhere and no guilt about how I apportion my time. Naturally, since my diagnosis (Stage IV breast cancer with bone mets and an ever-changing pursuit by the docs of the right paliative regime for me), things have changed in terms of daily life. It's probably familiar to many of you to have suddenly to think in terms of the day-to-day, and any plans I have now take on a certain Herculean, even military, aspect.
Tradition among my friends is that I travel to Paris every Xmas to visit a mixed bunch of dissidents from normality; centred on an old-fashioned bohemian set-up in a flat in Montmartre, eating goose and figs, listening to frantic French music, people calling in all hours of the night and day (do you hate me already??!) New Year is usually in a flat overlooking the Sacre Coeur with physical and emotional fireworks (who is sleeping with whom? Who is talking to whom?? Who's written a nasty article for Liberation about what and whom? Who has borrowed money from whom and not paid it back?? Who is contemplating a sex change and thereby antagonising matters [latter a bit far-fetched even for us, but you get the picture...])
I'm almost deranged in my determination to go as usual this year; yet something as generally so ordinary as getting on the Eurostar suddenly seems like a major undertaking. Everyone of course is telling me to come; all will be "as normal", etc etc.
I'd be interested in people's views; particularly people who have normal lives with children and grandchildren who would never contemplate uphauling themselves for Xmas and New Year. Am I being at best selfish (I now live at home with parents and am close to an extended family); at worst reckless? What is the worst thing that could happen?
I'd be really interested in what you think of this idea
Cat xx
FormerMember
Dear Cat,
I'm surprised you even need to think about it. Go! Just tell your friends you may feel a little tired now and again and not to be offended if you need to go to bed at 2a.m. sometimes, instead of staying up for the dawn croissants. Enjoy. Life is for living.
Thanks so much for all your comments; am heartened to see you all agree on the right course of action!
I'll carry on with my intentions. Oh and I lied about the sex change bit being far-fetched (not me, hem hem, I have quite enough to contend with. Actually can you imagine landing THAT one on the oncologist??). With a bit of luck may have some entertaining stories for you in 09...
Take pictures, write everything down. Share the filth! Can't wait for the scandal and gossip. Maybe I should come with you to make sure things don't get out of hand?
Well...thanks to your robust well wishes, I embarked on my "cancer tour" of the Near Abroad, and my dears, it was party, restaurant, dinner, smoking, drinking, chat, rages, tears at bedtime and a brief glimpse of my old life back again....
Paris Christmas Eve was 4 Americans (including a Xmas-hating Jewish friend), 3 French, 1 Turk and little Scottish moi; oysters, foie gras, truffle-stuffed cabon and buche. Now, it would be a foolhardy one who deplored French cuisine in any shape or form, but they are not half unoriginal when it comes to festivities. On Xmas Day we hied up to the 20th arr. for: oysters, foie gras and pave, which is a kind of junior venison malarkey. Boxing Day we went down to the freezing depths of Burgundy where a wonderful professional chef Welshman cohabiting in a weekend converted farmhouse with the FABULOUSLY charming grandson of a long-deposed Central American dictator fed us...oysters, foie gras and cabon. They also gave me a bobbed orange wig which I have told everyone makes me look like the Uma Thurman character from Pulp Fiction. [Note: no-one's going to argue with a cancer patient when she decides she looks fabulous...]
We were flagging at New Year until called out to witness the spectacle of the transsexual next-door neighbour, who is a Parisian singer, departing for the Ritz in full Marilyn Monroe regalia complete with a beautiful black stripper (male). She came back with 3000 euro from the Qatari Prince who had engaged her to entertain his wife, boyfriend and 100 close friends; so bouyed up was she that she brought me a couple of feather boas to match the wig.
Then there was a small crisis because the Brazilian had turned up with her coke-addled Scottish boyfriend en route to Tel Aviv where there is apparently a marvellous new course of brain injections available to cure drug addiction. They had unfortunately run out of money so somebody put them up in an empty house belonging to some absent friends. He (coke-addled boyfriend) was apparently so sick he rotted the floorboards over the course of an evening, but am hoping this was apocryphal.
Anyway, somehow got to Brussels for a few days and London after that, then straight back to the Scottish Highlands chemo suite, which served me right. But nice to know I can still do it, if only for a limited period.
You swine! What a fabulous and debauched time you've been having. I am so jealous I have green bile spouting from every orifice. Thanks for sharing. I bet it's done you more good than harm. Keep smiling - maybe you can persuade the hospital staff to dress up in fetish gear or something on the grounds that you need to have stimulation to keep yourself going.
Well done you! You are an example to us all. Now I'm just off to our village post office to see if Val has any rude jokes to keep me going...
