Where do you go to allow your soul to catch up? Recharge your batteries?

My family is fortunate to have a place just one hour’s drive from Gothenburg, the farm my father grew up on. Believe me when I say this place is in the middle of nowhere, if you are used to living in a big city that is. My mother thought my father was joking (or seriously ill) when they drove out there to meet his parents for the first time, some 32 years ago. Just to give you an idea, you drive the E20 motorway to Alingsås (in this quaint town make sure to stop by “Balders Hage” on Drottninggatan 25 for coffee and Swedish nostalgia), turn onto Road 42 and some 25 minutes later (depending on how many horses are pulling your car) turn right when you hit the signpost “Magra”, a weird and wonderful name for ‘skinny’ or ‘bony’ in Swedish. You will eventually find that you hit a dirt road that takes you deep into the “troll” forest. Don’t be surprised if you have to hit the brake as a deer attempts to push its luck. Eventually a small village appears. I have yet to find the signpost but on maps I have seen the name “Ränne” printed.  

Supposedly it took my father 18 years to find his way out of this particular forest. With parents that were fortunate to graduate from Elementary school and a village culture where taking over the family farm was seen as, if not obligatory, then at least customary, what drives this man to end up studying at one of Sweden’s most prestigious universities and become, in my mind, a very successful business man? I guess parents that allow their children to choose their own way and not pressure them into something they have not themselves expressed a wish to pursue. I hope my son will feel free to follow his own chosen route, even though his mother may mumble something about medical school and a profession in neurosurgery.    

Unfortunately my grandparents did not get the chance to become great-grandparents and meet our beautiful son. They were truly great, though. I hope that my husband and I will come close to having the marriage they had. These people adored each other and we on the outside of their sphere could just stand and gaze in awe. 

P.S. If you are interested in experiencing the serenity of the Swedish country-side, more specifically on a farm only a short walk from Ränne, there is a family who cater for these needs. They run a “Bo på lantgård” (“Staying on a farm”) facility. Click here to take a closer look, especially on the photo tab(s) “Bilder”. If you also click on the tab “Priser & Bokning” and scroll down you can find an e-mail address. No plans for the summer? This my be something to try out. (Click here for additional information in English, German and Swedish).  

I slept some eight hours tonight and I feel great. I have until recently taken for granted being able to sleep at night. During my years at university I flirted with anxiety attacks over exams and whether my lab work was good enough; however, it rarely got to the extent that I let it hinder by beauty sleep. At least my husband still thinks I am beautiful after all that has happened so I won’t let the insomnia worry me too much at this stage.  

Speaking of university; in addition to the general text books, I must have spent hours reading up on various research areas in the form of journal articles. I realised this is where I could find the “crème de la crème” of my studies and it all became endlessly more interesting. Admittedly it wasn’t until my third year that I came to appreciate this realisation, which in retrospect feels a bit late. I’m just thankful I didn’t drop out prior to then.  I generally used the free search engine PubMed to locate articles and abstracts of interest.  Now that I again have something “cancerous” within Life Science to read up on, I thought I would jump at the chance to research my brain tumour. There must be an immeasurable amount of material on matters such as perturbed cell signalling, therapies, prognosis, statistics, etc. However, I have put this urge aside for the time being and instead decided to rely on my oncologist(s). My interest has instead come to focus on philosophies of life… and death. What is the meaning of life? Is God a bastard? Why me (why not me)? But most importantly, what happens after death? 

PubMed, which claims to have 16 million citations back to the 1950’s on medicine and LIFE science, must be able to answer at least some of my questions. Hence, I gave it a shot. I typed in “After death” (agreeably a bit wide). Impressively, much work has been done on the matter, including articles on “Taking care of the body after death” (Soins Gerontol. (62):45-6) and “Public opinion on organ donation in Saudi Arabia” (Saudi J Kidney Dis Transpl. 18(1):54-9).   

Speaking of organ donation, you have read my introduction to this blog, right? For you wouldn’t think of reading this far and not live up to my “Terms and Conditions”? I need to figure out how to import a check box on the first page for everyone to tick before being allowed into my head.  

The date and time March 7^th, 10 am has been staring back at me in the calendar ever since I got that letter through the post stating,

“We have received a referral from Neurosurgery… a visit to Jubileumskliniken (JK) has been scheduled for you…”

I haven’t even wanted to make up plans past this date, unsure of what to expect.  In my referral I was also given the name of a woman oncologist, who to my understanding will be following me for the remaining journey. Within Neurosurgery I was only seen by male physicians and I was looking forward to some female bonding. After having displayed the referral to the receptionist and provided the necessary information I was asked to sit down and wait. I was told that if there were any delays a nurse would come by. At 10:05 a male voice called out my name with slightly broken Swedish. I looked over to see a Middle Eastern-looking man and I thought, “Aha, the nurse!” and my next thought was, “Great to see that JK is drawing its straw to the haystack and employing an immigrant nurse”.  

It turned out that the person I just described was the chief oncologist for the whole unit. Again it is a blessing to be able to say that everything clicked and we were able to spend some 45 minutes holding, in my opinion, a very constructive conversation. Both my husband and I were briefed on the upcoming procedure, including 30 rounds of radiation therapy. However, first I will need a mask moulded for my head and we were shown a demo. It resembled a plastic head made of chicken-wire, but with much smaller loops. Imagine Jason’s hockey mask in “Friday the 13^th“and you get the general idea. Exactly when this will take place is still somewhat uncertain. Either way, I am all set for Halloween.

I have since January 31st experienced a phenomenon quite similar to giving birth. I will spare you the gory details; however, on our son’s birthday in August 2005 and for weeks thereafter, our family, friends and colleagues (synonymous with friends) overwhelmed us with thoughtfulness in the form of visits, telephone calls, cards, flowers, gifts and much, much more. The same has happened since my diagnosis, but to a much greater extent. The get well cards have poured in from friends all over the world and I feel truly blessed and loved.  

I am also thankful to everyone who has had the nerve to call me, even though we in some instances haven’t spoken in a long while. I imagine I too wouldn’t know whether to “scratch my watch or wind my butt” (quoting Shirley MacLaine in a film I will not behold in a while, Steel Magnolias). There are almost certainly instances in the past when I wish I had acted differently had I known what I know today. It is worth taking risks with people you care for e.g. telephoning, asking how they’re feeling, if there is anything you can do etc. Each person is different in whether or not they wish to talk, even though I have chosen to keep an open channel. Admittedly, I have experienced occurrences when I haven’t had the energy for a telephone conversation. This was especially true the following day when I was given news that I need further treatment. I didn’t get out of bed until 5 pm, cried until there were no more tears and watched movies (Steel Magnolias excluded). Thankfully my husband was home and could at least get some food and drink in me as the cortisone had without doubt worn off. Most importantly, I did not answer the phone. Hence, don’t worry; keep calling. I should perchance add that if you don’t get an answer, it may just be that I am not home.

On the windshield of our white saloon (sedan) parked in the rain it says ”My Toyota is Fantastic”. However, the slogan I like even better is “Today, Tomorrow, Toyota”. Genius if you ask me and it’s “only” alliteration; no rhyme or worse, spelling it out. The slogan is so simple; although I am sure someone paid a fortune to come up with it.  

I believe “simplicity” is the key to most areas in our lives. I can specifically remember one of the first times I was introduced to this idea. Between age 12 and 14 my family lived in Tokyo where I attended a Catholic international school for girls in Setagaya-ku. On Wednesdays we had the option of either attending a ~30 minute mass or stay in the class room and work on various assignments, depending on our religious/personal beliefs or mood. As I am born to Christian parents, albeit not Catholic, you would perhaps think that opting for mass would be my prime choice. In my view, I would probably have opted for the religious service even if my family was living in the Middle East and sending their daughter to a Muslim school for girls.

For as long as I can remember I have always loved to hear what other people have to say, especially regarding philosophies of life. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I have always felt inspired; the number of instances where I have been listening or reading and felt utterly bored, allowed my mind to wander or, worse, fallen asleep are too numerous to count.

I must admit that I can’t exactly recall what the priest was referring to but he suddenly talked about “KISS”, miraculously resulting in the sleepy audience exploding into giggles. It didn’t help when he in the same breath uttered the word “stupid” in an attempt to explain the acronym of the phrase “Keep It Simple, Stupid”.