Mae improves and the weather doesn't

When we rang friends at Diamond Beach this morning, they reported they were sitting outside having a cup of tea and it was sunny and a pleasant mid twenties temperature. A few minutes later, I stepped into the damp sleety windy Canberra day, hunched my neck down into my coat and sucked  in some sub teens winter air. Bracing. Trying to see the positives, here - invigorating. Fresh. Makes you appreciate warmth, fires, hot coffee. Reminds you of the joy of Spring to come. Winter in Canberra seems to go on for a very long time and August is the coldest month. So we will really appreciate heading north on Saturday and returning to Diamond Beach for a little while.

Mae continues to improve. Her wound is healing well, the main incision still under dressings but joining up well and getting dryer and less angry looking. Various other holes are healing. She is getting stronger, more resolved. Sarah gave her a copy of Lance Armstrong's autobiography about his cancer journey, and I was struck by one passage which refers to how he felt as a patient with a serious illness, you have to give up control of your body to medical people who impose and intrude, interfering with you, cutting you, pushing things and substances into you. Mae's little body is so changed by what is happening to her and there is more to come, with chemotherapy starting soon.

Yesterday, she was in hospital again, this time for a surgical procedure to implant a portacath in her chest, so that chemotherapy can be delivered intravenously. Ghastly feeling, having to front up to yet another hospital, another anaesthetic. More pain. But to her credit, she has come out of it smiling, calm, uncomplaining. In fact, she was so stunned by how salubrious the Hotel National Capital Private is compared with Hotel St George Public, that I think she actually quite enjoyed her stay (at times).

Here she is in her private room, with her delicious roast chicken dinner, under her shiny gold bedspread and next to her gleaming white bathroom, with no mould. Very unlike St George Hospital.

 Even the lifts had a certain classiness to them. A certain artistic je ne sais quoi.

It was only an overnight stay though, and now she is back home, nursing a very sore set of muscles on her upper right breast, where her cleavage will never be quite the same. The portacath goes in under the skin and is sewn into muscle to keep it in place. It all heals up and presents much less of an infection risk than the old kind. Later, they can feel for the entry point and chemotherapy needles are pushed through at that place. Sounds like a bag of laughs. Chemotherapy will take around six months, or at least that is the plan.  A lot depends on her individual response. But Mae is absolutely resolute. She will endure whatever it takes, if it gives her a chance.  And we hope it will.

This is an historic photo. Mia the rescue cat does not do sitting on laps (except for David) and she does not allow tummy rubs in the daytime (except for David) and she never, ever does the eyebrow-sniff-kiss to anyone but Mae (except for David). All cats love David best. If you live with cats in the same house as David, you just have to get used to this.

Mae is beginning to feel more ready for visitors and phone calls. She is recognising that it does cheer her up and support her to see people. She (and Nick) were greatly cheered yesterday by me being able to sort out their health insurance hassles by phoning the health fund and working my way up the chain of command until we got some common sense prevailing. Another very cheering bit of news was from the wonderful Mel at Mae's work, who advised she may be eligible for income protection payments. Yay! That would take a huge worry off everyone's mind if it does come through.

Akinyi sent this gorgeous photo of her and Wim (having dinner with Lian). I so want to get down to Melbourne again soon. But next stop - Diamond Beach! Our new house is to be handed over next week!