My parents were teetotallers in the main, that is until we managed to turn my father onto red wine in the latter years of his life – for the health benefits you understand. In my teen years I remember my dad bringing home all manner of non-alcoholic beverages and mixers in an ultimately futile bid to dissuade his daughters from hooking into the hard stuff for as long as possible. Claytons, the faux brown liquor that one could mix with ginger ale and pretend it was a scotch and dry, was one of these. Remember the TV ad with Jack Thompson? ‘Claytons. The drink you’re having when you’re not having a drink’. Four years down the track, it appears my recovery from breast cancer and its treatment is just like that. Continue Reading
…to be an Australian or an ex-cancer patient as it happens. A dear friend referred to the ending of my last post – The Definition of Insanity – as a ‘cliffhanger’ beseeching me to hurry up and write about the historic meeting between my Oncologist and my Naturopath. While we Australians are currently enduring the longest federal election campaign in history, I’ve taken the liberty of borrowing one of the only coinable phrases to come out of the mouth of our current PM, Malcolm Turnbull, and adapted it shamelessly to my current circumstances. (No sirree – ‘Jobs and Growth’ didn’t make the cut.)
A couple of posts ago I said I was ‘drawing a line’ under the Big Breast Adventure in an attempt to get on with my life. While part of that statement still holds true, the fact that I shall never really be done with this ramble has recently come to the fore. Thankfully this reassertion has been more with a whimper than a bang, but it’s a whimper nonetheless. In order to explain I have to go back to well before the start of the Big Breast Adventure.