CHRISTMAS

2013 is drawing to a close. I started my blog on January 10 - so nearly a year of blogging now, through good days and bad days. If I'd known at the beginning of the year how 2013 was going to end, I would probably have given up everything there and then. But when tragedy strikes you, there's an incredible realisation of actually finding strength from within yourself, from the support of friends and family, even from cultural and visual experiences. But I must say that on rereading the above poem written last Christmas I'm overwhelmed by the relevancy and the poignancy it bears for me now - one year later.

On the 22nd December we prepared our house for a dinner party. My husband's childhood friends and their wives have a thirty-seven year old tradition of getting together on this particular date, and it strikes me that this was started while they were all still childless, or unmarried, or were invited to their parents' house for Christmas dinner! You're busy enough on this day of running up to the festive days, if you shouldn't have to throw huge parties as well! But our day for arranging the party only comes around every 8th year, as it alternates between the friends.

Before the party

After the party

It turned out a great success, not least because our three daughters worked like professionals in the kitchen - dishing out food, serving, tidying and cleaning - until the very end. I couldn't have made it without them! I realised too what a team my husband and I usually are when we put on something like this, we pull together to make the evening enjoyable for everyone. This year, alas, it was a big enough effort for him just to participate and join us at the table. But he did it! Until 1 a.m!

Christmas tree bugs displayed on the TV screen

Reading some years ago about all the creepy crawlers that make their way out of the Christmas trees once they're placed inside heated houses, the decision was made then to buy an everlasting tree made of what? It's not plastic, it's not material, it's well…. something that resembles a real tree. I love it! I simply drag it out of the store room, unfold it and decorate it.

"Green" Christmas in Oslo this year

At Christmas we always visit the graves of our loved ones. My husband's family grave, then my father's nearby in the same cemetery, and finally my aunt and uncle's grave - they both passed in 2000, one in June, the other in December. The bond between them was remarkably close, both in life and in death. We light candles, we decorate with wreaths, we take some minutes to reflect and reminisce. I like to go at dusk - in the "Blue Hour" - because the candles from all the other graves show up so beautifully. Strangely enough I find peace walking in graveyards, and I've been known to ask my Dad for advice there!

Finally I have my daughter Julie home again! It's lovely, and the three sisters have been spending a lot of time at home with their Dad. He's delighted, but wishes he was in better shape. Even now, more than a week after the final termination of radiotherapy and the four-week break from chemo - he is still very marked by them. Nausea, tiredness, loss of appetite, in a poor general condition. We honestly thought this would improve more quickly than it seems to be doing. Setting our hopes too high, probably.

I think Christmas has been a bit difficult. It's supposed to be a time for good cheer and uplifted spirits, instead I've kept wondering where we'll be this time next year… My strong optimism sometimes gets overtaken by melancholy and despair. But I understand that this is the way it has to be, for many days to come. These alternating emotions will be a huge part of our lives in 2014.

Three sisters - celebrating Christmas on the 24th December, the Scandinavian way

Granddaughters making gingerbread men before Christmas

Cousins Julie and Even reunited at my sister's Christmas party on Boxing Day

SADNESS & JOY

Portugal 1982

My handsome husband is losing his hair, but only three more days to go now before this round of treatments is over. At the doctor's appointment today I asked how quickly he'd recover from all the side effects of the radiotherapy and the chemotherapy, and she told me it would still take some time, as the therapies keep working in his body for a while afterwards.

We were wondering if we'd have some more news - as promised - of the new Swedish research results that we heard about last week, but there were none. Not surprisingly. This frustrates me no end! The young doctor we talked to today knew less about it than we did, much less! She had absolutely no idea about any starting up of any research programme in Oslo, had hardly read about it, could not inform us of anything to do with the medicine. But I think we came across as three people who would not give up easily, so she promised to ask the doctor in charge of research to get back to us. Hmmm.... I'll believe it when I see it. The other option would be to get hold of the medicine separately, but it costs a fortune. Unless you can get it on prescription on "false" premises - that is, pretend it's for the herpes zoster virus. Which it is - really.

I find myself getting very frustrated and exhausted over this situation. The way it SHOULD work is that they merely say: "This medication seems to help. Of course you can have it." There is no time to lose, don't you see that, all you over-cautious doctors out there!!

Notice the boat parked on my street?

Back garden

Front garden

My sister, a friend and I had some drinks in town on Friday night, and when the friend went home, we continued to a pub up the street. We walked through the Palace Park, and when we arrived at the pub we were absolutely soaked through. The white stuff that drifted heavily from the sky was pure sleet, making any attempt at a hairstyle totally futile. Arriving at the pub we managed to push through a huge and sweaty crowd of angry waiters, drunken Christmas party revelers, leering men and several known and unknown people, and escape upstairs to a quiet little corner and a waiter who was not overworked. It was so nice to watch the horrible weather from our cosy window in this very old building in Oslo.

On Saturday it was time for a traditional Christmas concert with friends. All crazy, absurd, retro and bad taste - this band, the Penthouse Playboys - is a group of well educated middle aged guys who do takeoffs on Christmas songs and other hits, to enormous applause, intense cheering and a high level of sing-along from hundreds of loyal fans. For me there's no Christmas feeling before this concert has been attended.

Except this year there is a deep sadness in me. Lying there embedded in me, never subdued, no matter how much I try to enjoy myself.

But tomorrow my daughter Julie's coming home for Christmas, all the way from Melbourne, Australia. Strange to think that right now she's way up in the sky, among the stars and the full moon, on her way from one end of the planet to the other.

This is joy! Welcome home, Julie!

GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS

Why is it that with any piece of good news there's always a piece of bad news? Is this the way the world works, or what?

On Monday morning we were contacted by a huge number of friends and family who'd watched the news on Sunday night (we hadn't apparently), where there'd been coverage and interviews about a recent scientific discovery at a Swedish hospital. With high probability doctors have revealed through research that a certain anti-virus medicine will dramatically prolong the life span of patients with the same type of brain cancer that my husband has, because this certain cancer thrives and grows with that type of virus. This is the good news.

The bad news is - this medicine is terribly expensive. So going out and buying it for yourself with a doctor's prescription is not an option for most people.

We were in consultation with the doctor today after radiotherapy - as we are every Tuesday. He said what doctors will ALWAYS say: "The results of this Swedish research are very uncertain, only 50 people were tested, we can't have too high hopes, we have to do a thorough study ourselves, we don't know when we'll be able to get started on that... etc etc." And then he said: "This sounds too good to be true." (!) So I said: "Why is it too good to be true? There's always someone doing cancer research out there - why is it so strange that they suddenly stumble across something that WORKS?" Of course I know that doctors have to be sceptical and careful, but get a move on, for heavens' sake! We don't have time to wait!

When my husband emphasised that he'd very much like to be part of the planned research programme at the Radiation Hospital, the doctor said: "Well, I definitely see you as eligible for that," whereas the nurse said: "People have been ringing us from all over the country. They all want to be in the research programme." So one of them gave us some hope, the other was a spoilsport. Or maybe she was just being realistic....

Being one of the richest countries in the world, Norway and its health care should be able to offer every new type of medicine to its inhabitants, and at a low cost, so that everyone can afford it. For the time being we'll be crossing our fingers, and if nothing's happened after a while we'll start insisting and protesting and demonstrating and refusing to move from the hospital until he's been supplied with medicine!

Winter came to Oslo this weekend, with the first snowfall. Being an anti-winter person I did not rejoice together with all the winter sport enthusiasts out there, though even I could see the simple beauty of the busy little green and red snowplough on my street on Sunday morning.

Days are busy now with pre-Christmas activities, and on Saturday my sister-in-law invited us to a church concert with the world famous Norwegian violinist Arve Tellefsen and the fantastic boys'/men choir Nidarosdomens guttekor, who perform all over the world with their conductor.

On Sunday it was time to visit a couple of Christmas markets - always a must even though it gets terribly crowded! My catches this time were simply hair products and a cook book (at the Vegan Market) and unfortunately only inspiration at the Designers' Own Market. But I spent a fortune at this latter one last year, so I don't really have a guilty conscience for not buying their beautiful self-designed and self-produced things.

On the subject of self-producing I find a sort of Zen these days in knitting. It's been a long time since I last knitted something a bit ambitious, but my daughter Sophie really wants a Marius sweater, which has long traditions in Norwegian wool "fashion." There's not a Norwegian alive who doesn't own a ski jumper of some sort with traditional patterns. Once upon a time I knitted several for myself and my family members (where have all these sweaters gone?), but never this particular pattern. The great thing about it is that over half of it is without pattern, so it combines well with TV-watching!

This time last year I was wrapping up my 100-day poetry challenge from my friend Grete, and I've just recently had a look through them again. I keep using them as illustrations in some of my blog posts, and I think they work well! Always something poignant, which tells me that my thoughts and feelings - even from one year ago when everything was different - constantly interact with my life. In other words - I recognise myself and my voice.

I find comfort in this.

BLUE

A wonderful winterly weekend with long traditions has just come to an end. A weekend in the mountains of Valdres, at the ski resort of Beitostølen - with good friends that go way back - Christmas food, long conversations, walking and talking, fun and laughter. Except this year I was there alone, without my husband, for the first time. He is now midway through his treatments - three weeks into radiotherapy and chemo - before he gets his four-week break on December 20. Though he really wanted to go on our mountain trip, he felt too weak and exhausted to be able to enjoy it. I am so incredibly grateful that I have my fantastic daughters, who send me off with their blessings and assurances that everything will be taken care of. And sure enough - this evening I came back to homemade pizza (delicious), yesterday they'd fried a steak and lots of veg and salad for him, and on Friday they'd prepared Mexican food! I love my girls endlessly!

I brought home cheese from the local Dairy - and I think this is becoming quite a success. A peek into the storage rooms showed plump round cheeses being washed and turned - something they have to do a couple of times a week. I bought one piece of cheese with caraway seed, one with nettle and the last one contained - hmmm.... fenugreek. One of the oldest known medicinal herbs apparently.

I do love this - local businesses starting up and selling local produce - may it last!

Jingle bells! Sleigh rides through town

I've said it before and I'll say it again - this November has been amazing, beautiful, spectacular! The evening skies have appeared like nothing I can ever remember seeing before. People tell me that the sunrises are the same (I wouldn't know...) I'm no weather expert, but I think it must be a combination of glorious, clear, sunny days and a chilly morning and evening air. On Saturday afternoon we were suddenly overwhelmed by sky colours that were completely new to me - all shades of blue imaginable. In Norwegian this is known as the "blue hour" - well, dusk in fact. It was so beautiful it almost brought tears to my eyes.

I talked with my sister this evening and tried to explain to her that this gorgeous November weather has actually helped me through days that would otherwise have been hopelessly grey and bleak. She immediately understood what I meant. She also understood something that was more difficult for me to explain: Though I'm happy to sometimes escape from this utter sadness that I'm experiencing at the moment, at the same time all I really want to do is to talk about my husband. I discovered this weekend of socialising that as long as I got a chance to talk about him and our situation - if only just a little bit - I was happy to concentrate on other subjects afterwards. I think it's a way of carrying him and his predicament with me - and never denying our present harsh reality.

We lit a first candle for Advent this evening. All was quiet and cosy, and the house smelt invitingly of good cooking when I came home. My daughters busy in the kitchen, my granddaughters playing, my husband dozing on the couch with one eye on the TV screen. They sent me upstairs to unpack - "Here's a glass of wine for you, have a hot bath before dinner." It struck me: We must cherish these moments. They are more valuable than ever. 

Then again - they were always valuable - only I didn't see it so clearly. I thought we had all the time in the world.