Thursday, August 1, 2013

"This journey" was what I entitled a Facebook entry just after my first chemo treatment 3 weeks ago. Tonight, awake on a steroid-induced racing brain, I realise there's a great danger of overwhelming friends on Facebook with my thoughts, interests and odd directions taken, and have decided that if I offer the option of coming here (or not), then I get the chance to "download" all that swirling stuff in my head a little; to share what is of interest with anyone who's interested, and to avoid too much intensity for those who are part of my Facebook community but are not necessarily close enough to wish to share all of that. 

This Journey              (11 July 2013)

It's a common way of looking at life and its stages and phases. Every journey has potential for disruption, can involve stops, new starts, detours, difficulties, meetings with challenges, friends and allies along the way. We travel in many ways, and at the start of my cancer journey, less than three months ago, a metaphor that was strong was a sense of being newly cast off on an...
unfamiliar boat, on fairly rough seas - but not far from shore, and not without strong anchors.
"And who's on the shore?" I was asked. My answer was immediate and felt very strongly. All along the shore, where I can see you clearly, stand friends, family, everyone who wishes me well, who would offer a thought of kindness if they knew I was having a rough time. You carry those things that call me home and remind me that I am so not alone here. Some of you carry lifelines, ready any time I need it, to help. Some wave flags of memory, banners of laughter. You carry books, poems, songs. Your voices carry over the water. You hold lights and flowers, bowls of ice-cream. Some have children in your arms. Some of you carry beads, and say prayers. You have called out to me and said "We're here". I know it.

Today, I start on a new phase of this journey. I start chemo. Four rounds, three weeks apart. I do not know exactly how it will be, but I know that I could not be in better hands, or among better people, so thank you. I appreciate your presence. Simply that. Just as you are, just as you have been, just as you have come to be part of my life. 

  Thank you.

The picture I've chosen as my profile picture is a SoulCollage® card created quite a long time ago, and which I entitled at the time "The Ferryman".  Today, it represents for me a sense of being carried along on a swift-flowing river, by unknown, but very benign forces, and surrounded by a garden of blossoms and lights, dressed in "power-purple. 
The forces supporting me right now are too numerous to list fully, but they include all the people referred to above, The process of SoulCollage®, Bach Flower Remedies, my wonderful Faith community, and an amazing family - siblings, cousins, my Dad and my incredible son, and the grace and wonderful certainty that I am also supported by an array of souls in the next world, chief among them, my dear, precious mother, on whose 5th anniversary, I got word that chemo would be part of this journey. Always with me, always showering me with her love.



  1. I am proud to have ever been a small part of your journey Imelda, and delighted to say that you are one of those who have touched my life. Possibly without you ever knowing it - which is a shame, I should say that to people more. Love you Mel and think of you daily. Shaun

  2. And I'm honoured to have had you in my life, Shaun.

  3. Thank you for including us in your journey. It's a very similar journey to mine and all I can say is, when times get tough just keep putting one foot on front of the other and be assured that YOU WILL GET THROUGH THIS! You will be a stronger person for it. My way was to set mini goals and each time I achieved one, it felt like sweet victory! Wish I could give you a big hug. Much love to you Vida

  4. Bless you, Imelda. I am here for you in whatever way I can be of use. Anything you need, just ask. Love, Ruth x

  5. I love your Facebook post, this blog, and your writing. You are a brave, compassionate woman, Imelda. Working in rescue for so long, I observed that many people, in their sacrifices to make a difference, didn't always recognize that the care receiver was just as much there for their soul growth. Happy to imbue your heart with light that might be sparked from our connection, know that your presence and authenticity, moment to-moment, are priceless gifts to me, and en-"lighten" my heart, too. Blessings, dear woman. Love, Sue