NOVEMBER LIGHT

My daughter-in-exile Julie was born on this day twenty-seven years ago. This photo taken today at her office in Melbourne is lying. Well, she doesn't look any older than eighteen so perhaps it's not really lying after all.

I find it very hard not to have her here, and I keep telling her she could have chosen to live in a country a bit closer to home. But she's come to love the Australian way of life - the people, the landscape, the climate, the outdoor experience, the party scene, her friends. And most important - her boyfriend and her job.

So there we are. What can we do? She's old enough to make her own decisions. She'll be home for Christmas though - we all look forward! She wasn't meant to, but her Dad's illness made her want to spend valuable time with her family. I think she's found it quite difficult to be so far away during this time.

The Dim Sum in Oz is fabulous, I know!

Oslo recently acquired a new sculpture park - Ekebergparken. Scattered around a forest are sculptures mainly dedicated to "The Female." The sculptures and the upgrading of the footpaths through the woods have been donated by a Norwegian billionaire, and in democratic and feministic Norway the whole donation caused a huge public debate with two basic con arguments: 1) A billionaire shouldn't just be able to infiltrate an outdoor public area with his enormous gift (the municipal government sucked up to him) and 2) Sculptures depicting women (and their bodies) are also degrading to them, especially when there are so many in one place. The billionaire has also made a point of the fact that he loves women and especially their curves! Bad billionaire! Okay, I know I'm simplifying this a bit, but going to see it for myself this afternoon with sister-in-law Tone was a very positive experience. The area is beautiful!

Per Ung - "Mother With Child"

Sean Henry - "Walking Woman" (and sister-in-law)

Richard Hudson - "Marilyn"

We had lunch in a nearby café, where we actually had to send the soup back! I don't often do that, but it looked like brown gravy and tasted as if they'd dropped both the soy sauce and the balsamic vinegar in it. So salad it was instead.

The area where the park is situated - Ekeberg - is not all that familiar to me, except for when I spent summer days driving my children there for Oslo's annual international football tournament "Norway Cup", or for knowing it's the location of Munch's "The Scream." But as we approached the park (from the back apparently) and walked through it, we realised that this hill above Oslo played a huge role during World War II. Coincidentally the evening paper that was in my mailbox when I arrived home had a long article on this subject! The Germans consolidated their positions particularly in this area by establishing anti-aircraft cannons, barracks, camps and radio stations.

There used to be marble steps here constructed by occupant Germany during WWII, then torn down and now reconstructed as a fantastic viewpoint, almost an amphi-theatre

My husband was in hospital again for a few days early this week, with medicine induced intestine problems. He had to sit in a waiting room at the doctors' emergency office for four hours (it was Sunday evening) with excruciating stomach pains. When at last he was let in to see the doctor he was referred to hospital at once. Terrified that this might happen again we managed to get a requisition directly to hospital in the event of a next time, without having to do a detour by a doctor's office. A good friend who's in fact a doctor told us about this possibility, otherwise we wouldn't have known. Learning details about health care as we go, that's for sure.

But I can't help thinking that we should have been informed of this initially, by the treating hospitals and doctors. With an illness as serious as the one my husband is going through now he shouldn't have to spend hours in cold waiting rooms not having his pains relieved.

We're watching some breathtaking sunsets in Oslo this November - who says this is the darkest, dreariest and greyest month of the year? I don't. (Hmmm.... well, I might). Two of the people I love the most were born in November - my husband and my Oz daughter. Well, we can't all be summer children.....

PRETTY NORMAL ACTIVITY

I've been shopping in Sweden today. This is something Norwegians often do. Cheaper food, cheaper wine, cheaper everything. And it's an outing for the whole family! The four of us - my husband, two daughters and I - drove one hour and twenty minutes with an empty boot, bought groceries, wine, beer, protein powder and ink cartridges, filled the boot. On the way back we witnessed an incredible winter sunset over the fields of south-eastern Norway, which Sophie photographed from the car. Apparently it's been spectacular everywhere across southern Norway, because Facebook and Instagram are crammed with similar photos. There's nothing like a colourful sunset to get those mobile cameras working! I really like this - we human beings can watch breathtaking sceneries, sunsets and sunrises eternally (hmmm... maybe I don't get to watch a lot of that last category....), and we NEVER tire of them! Again and again we marvel at the beauty of our earth.

I can't pretend that store-bought hamburgers are my favourites, but there's a Swedish chain called Max, which makes a point of being a bit healthier than the other chains (naming no names). Their presentation of nutrition info and healthy choices - and just biting into the hamburger meat and noticing the difference - will practically convince you. The above pic is of my burger lunch today - the low-carb one - no bun, only lots of veg and salad. Okay then, a slice of cheese is spotted here, I agree.....

My husband was tired after our Sweden trip, but so far the treatments are working remarkably well. Or shall we say, they are not making him any worse. Two weeks of radiotherapy now - only four more to go. Yesterday he had physiotherapy at the hospital to relieve some of his old hip and back pains, and the therapist said that there really are no limitations to physical activity as long as he's aware of the signals his body sends him - exhaustion, unusual pains, nausea etc. So before I knew it he was sawing and cutting and shoving twigs, branches and bushes into the boot of the car and accompanying me to the garden-waste dump, where we proceeded to do everything in reverse order. He was so pleased yesterday that he'd stayed awake and active all day!

A very good friend came over last week and cut down three trees for us - one in the front garden and two in the back. We've been meaning to do this for ages, and when we called him he was here with his chainsaw within ten minutes. Thank you, Per!

Before - front

After - front

Before - back

After - back

Fifth trip to dump - getting used to it (though a bit weary)

I love nothing better than to spend my life in our usual everyday way. Our family and friends contribute to this - they help us make things roll along the way they've always done. With no exaggerated gestures, no big deals, no forced efforts. An invitation to the cinema. A Sunday lunch. A Monday evening dinner. Cutting down some trees. A telephone call. A surprise visit. A walk-and-talk. An old photo of my husband sent by email. An MMS text from friends and neighbours in France. An email from friends in Ireland. An old friend sleeping over and staying for breakfast. A small Facebook heart from a daughter's friend. A sincere dialogue with a neighbour. Caring, considerate words.

What I think is this: We would have received and experienced all these anyway. They may be more in abundance now. But I'm not so sure. I always knew that my family and friends are the best.

THE ENDLESS CORRIDORS

When my daughters and I accompanied my husband to his first consultation at Radiumhospitalet - the Norwegian National University Hospital for cancer treatment and cancer research - we kept getting lost in the labyrinths of corridors crisscrossing each other. A bit jokingly the nurse said to us - "You'll be walking a lot down these corridors during the coming weeks and get to know your way around in no time." Well, she was right. By now we have trudged along them for seven days, but they seem to be as long and uninviting as on the first day. Why are there so many shades of yellow and green and grey in hospitals? I can't help but find these colours a bit sickening, though they're probably meant to liven things up.

After you've spent about six hours (it's probably only six minutes) walking past receptions, newsagents, polyclinics, labs, doctors' offices and patients of all ages, you finally arrive at the big open waiting space for the radiotherapy rooms. It's almost liberating after those narrow claustrophobic corridors! Marked with a red sign - radiation in progress, or green - no radiation. Magazines and newspapers are scattered on the tables for the waiting patients and relatives, and best of all! Free lunch! Open sandwiches, waffles, coffee, tea and juice are provided by the charitable Odd Fellow Order - their members work in the little canteen and serve the most delicious food for people who are on extremely bad terms with their appetites. I'm not usually overly enthusiastic about fraternal guilds, but these volunteers deserve a standing ovation.

And the food is for relatives and friends too, so today I had my breakfast there while waiting for my husband. It was these sandwiches that made him gradually start eating properly again - something about being served sandwiches that look a bit more fancy than the ones we make at home.

Although he is often tired and needs to rest, it's important for him to go for walks regularly to keep his strength up and not least get fresh air. He tries to go out every day and on Sunday we strolled along the seafront, right down the road from our house. There's still no real sign of winter - that's absolutely fine with me! But a drag for those Norwegians who long for skiing and skating weather. Well, they have had their way for several years now - it's about time there was a mild winter!

The sunset comes early these days - around 3.30 - and this is exactly what it's like! Even looking at the photo hurts your eyes.

Matching clothes! 

Today "Selfie" was selected by Oxford Dictionaries as THE 2013 word, and to honour this decision I had to take - a Selfie. Which I always do anyway when I've been to the hairdresser's, being childishly proud of my growing hair. But what I noticed in this selfie was that my eyes have turned green! They are not usually green, but rather a bluish greyish wishy washy colour. (Though my daughter Julie's eyes tend towards green).... I think this is what the colour you're wearing does to you actually - hey, all you colour experts out there! Isn't that right? So there is truth in this, just as wearing orange or mustard yellow will bring out all my drabness and make me look at least twenty years older.

Well, come to think of it - a friend of mine who did colour analysis for a while - and analysed my colours too - said that nobody looks good in mustard yellow, so there we are. But those hospital interior designers obviously think it's a winner!

HAPPY DIVERSIONS

Teddy's Softbar

My medicine in times of crises has always been to divert myself, to find solace in reaching outwards. Call it fleeing from reality if you will. And yes, it is that too. But I need to gather strength to be able to function in a challenging everyday life, so this is exactly what I've been doing recently. Burying myself in misery and sadness doesn't help me at all - I'm a much better companion if I've had a happy time-out.

Last week I went out with friends to eat at Taste of China again. They serve the most delicious Dim Sum - which I simply love! Chinese "Tapas" - mmmmm! What we do here is to ask the waiter to serve us a selection, which they do to perfection - dumplings, deep-fried and stir-fried goodies in a tasty combo. Fortunately they don't push trolleys around with further temptations - which they do in a lot of Dim Sum places, going: "Another one? Just a small one? YES!"

After Dim Sum two of us went to Teddy's Softbar - a traditional 50s bar in Oslo. I don't go there often, but when I do I'm literally transported back to the 50s (when I was a toddler anyway, but still I DO remember the 50s - born as I am in the middle of it. But I didn't go to bars at the time of course! Oh, where is this heading?!) Well, okay - it's complete with a Wurlitzer, laminated tables and a toilet in the backyard - yup, this is nostalgia for me.

The beautiful Oslo Opera House

The following day one of my best friends had invited me to the Opera! Oh, was I ever excited! Not because I love listening to opera that much, especially not on TV, but because GOING to the opera in person, watching it on stage, reading the libretto - is a totally different matter. It's grand, it's stately, it's classy, it's high culture. I loved it! We saw Madame Butterfly by Giacomo Puccini - not that many well known music pieces, except the aria Un Bel Di Vedremo. But the music is beautiful and soothing, and of course the tragic plot makes you cry at the end. The performance lasted for three whole hours, including an interval of 20 minutes, when my friend Anne-Helene and I queued in the bar for fifteen minutes just to knock back a glass of Chardonnay in the remaining five!

My husband's cancer treatments started on Monday. Radiotherapy, chemotherapy. Our whole day revolves around this. In addition all the other stuff - pills to enhance appetite, superfood to try to fight cancer the "natural" way. Trying everything, even changes in diet. Well, why not... Nothing ventured, nothing gained. It was in fact good to get things going. No side effects as yet - they'll most probably kick in half way through, after three weeks.

A walk in my park yesterday afternoon with best friend Grete was another healing time. I'd been to a good friend's funeral in the morning, which had been very emotional and upsetting for me, and just walking and talking with the one who knows me best - and drinking in deeply those familiar views - calmed me completely.

I have to cherish these moments. And then come home to my husband feeling uplifted and refreshed.

And - in time - he'll be joining me.

BIRTHDAY BOY

My husband is almost exactly forty years older than Julie. Here they are - 8 months old, 40 years and 8 months old. He was born on the 10th November, she was born on the 28th November. I think he looks an amazingly young 40-year old!

So - birthday today - and we cracked open a huge bottle of champagne that I received as a present on MY birthday 6 months ago - very appropriate, I think. We thought initially that we wouldn't be able to finish it (a double - 1.5 litres), but why did I even worry about this? My sister dropped by (driving - so just a taste), then my brother (not driving), then - best of all - champagne agreed with the birthday boy! He had two glasses!

My sister and brother both brought the birthday boy roses (my sister knowing her way around the house and arranging vases and cutting stems and helping herself to whatever it was she required), my sister-in-law (my husband's sister) brought wine, wholesome bread and a beautiful long-stemmed rose. From his daughters he got massage therapy and treatments, from friends other kinds of treatments - foot and body. The only one who didn't give him a present was me. But we've got our own plans....

All in all - celebrating this evening without thinking too much about the future.

Then everyone was off - but before we knew it my sister-in-law (not my husband's sister, but the other one) had dropped her mobile phone in the toilet and all of a sudden everything was as it should be in our little family - teenage son rolling his eyes, her nieces - my daughters - barely containing themselves with laughter, me gloating because it wasn't ME having this unfortunate accident, my brother going yeah yeah, what's new... and so on.

Yes. This is all happiness to me. (Or maybe not that mobile phone... Commiserating there!!)

And dreading tomorrow a bit. Starting treatments.

HIM & ME = US

My husband's tumour results finally came through, and we are once again struck to the ground. Malignant it was - so chemotherapy and radiation it is, for weeks and weeks to come. Six weeks on, four weeks off, six weeks on, four weeks off - this'll be our routine in the near future and what will dominate our lives. And then there's the future which lies a little further ahead - well, no one knows. Uncertain prognosis, depending on how he reacts to and absorbs the treatments. But many cancer patients have been known to outlive dire predictions, and my man is strong.

So if my blog happens to revolve a little around my husband, his illness and his progress in the months to come, so be it. There's no way I'm going to be able to avoid this subject, I'm afraid. Not that I want to either - it's all I can concentrate on at the moment, and it's therapy for me both to talk about it and write about it.

Yes, my life has truly changed, in just a few weeks. Turned upside down, in fact. At the moment I'm probably more or less in shock, I think - not allowing myself to break down, not now. Not yet. There's a time for everything, and for me the time to break is not here and now - there'll be plenty of time for that later. The focus now is on optimism, positivity, hope and strength. This is the way it has to be. The darkness and despair might be bubbling just beneath the surface, but it's important for me that it stays there for the time being.

It's also very important for me - and my husband - that we try to live our lives as normally as possible, because that's who we are. We are both quite easygoing people, without huge ups and downs in our everyday lives - we talk and discuss (sometimes fight a little), joke and laugh. We don't ride that emotional roller coaster too often, and this of course is also a result of a thirty-two year long relationship. Two initially very different and strong individuals have contended, cooperated and cohabited for ages and experienced that not only do grudges and discontent rub off after a while - they also soften and fade and become less and less significant. Add to this mix a huge amount of mutual respect. And fundamental love.

There we are. This is us.