So it’s been a while – a good two or three months since I posted anything, and perhaps, Gentle Reader, you’ve been wondering where this aging hippy has been hiding. Truth to be told, nowhere. I’ve been getting on with things, living my life and trying to keep my sanity amid a world getting crazier by the day. But blogging, or anything creative to be fair, has simply not been that important to me. Let me clarify.

This past 18 months have, at a personal level, been the most challenging period in my entire life (71 years and countng). In these months I have had to face the following challenges:

First and foremost, I’ve had to deal with cancer. Last spring I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. After the initial shock and fear, and with the doctors assuring me it could be treated and was not terminal, I had surgery in November. It was successful, my recovery was quicker than any of us (me included) had expected and I am now cancer free and living a normal life. But that wasn’t all. This summer My Beloved was suffering a recurring tooth pain that her dentist was unable to fix, so our GP referred her to a throat specialist for a more detailed scan. This revealed a growth on her saliva gland, and incredibly within 10 days of the diagnosis she underwent successful surgery to remove a tumour that was near plum sized. It, too, turned out to be cancerous but thankfully benign – there had been no spread. She has also made a full recovery (except for some occasional pain in her ear when flying – her inner ear had to be effectively taken apart and rebuilt to allow for the removal). She has been assured it will be fine in about 6 months.

While we were coping with my cancer issues, my sister passed away. She had been ill for some time with dementia that had got quickly worse after losing her husband eight years ago, and accelerated through the Covid lockdown that kept her completely isolated for nearly two years. But because she was unable to recognise anything wrong her doctor was unable to treat it or, because of British medical regulations, even discuss it with her next of kin (me) without her permission. She never gave it. On the day I found out I had cancer she had a fall at home, and unable to care for herself was moved to a care home. There she had another fall and broke her hip, and never recovered from the surgery. She remained in hospital for nearly a month, without the strength to do her rehab exercises, and then, wheelchair bound, was returned to the care home, where she died peacefully and without fuss a couple of days before her 82nd birthday. I went to her funeral two weeks before my surgery.

To cap it all. a couple of weeks after My Beloved’s surgery my older sister also passed away. She too had been ill for some time with an inoperable heart condition but remained at home, cared for by by niece (a qualified nurse) and nephew until the last week, when she was taken to hospital after a collapse. She was unhurt, but basically her body just broke down, and she died, again peacefully and quickly, in her daughter’s arms. Another trip to England for another funeral, less than 9 months after the first. I’m still recovering from all that – they were both very dear to me.

What else? Well, money continued to be tight – retirement invariably reduces your income and makes things tough, and we have been counting every penny since I stepped back in 2019, because our income fell off a cliff….maths and prudence had never been my strong points. But we’ve always managed, my kids have always had new clothes when needed and food on the table. Four years ago, as the Pandemic drifted away, we bought a new flat – we desperately needed the extra bedroom – but we are still not moved in. Covid first delayed the build, then a further delay happened when our builder had to spend three months reinforcing the border between Poland and Belarus during the migrant crisis that was then tearing Europe apart. After that, Vlad the Impaler then ordered his troops into Ukraine, and we were flooded with refugees and, worse, the cost every damned thing, not least building materials and furniture, sky-rocketed. We had to plough on and at least finish the place, and we’ve done that – our long awaited move is happening, bit by bit, as I write.

So it’s been a lot to cope with. Although fit and healthy, I’m having to adjust to an aging process that since Covid and, especially, my cancer has accelerated, and to be honest I’m finding that hard. My Beloved has just changed her job, so that’s more adjustment. My kids are growing older and more independent, which as is often the case means they are less inclined to do as they are asked so there is more home conflict – they are teenagers, better than most (even if I say so myself) so that was expected. But it’s still tiring.

Blogging, writing of any kind, has been pushed way down my priority list. I haven’t felt like it for weeks, but with the end of a long scorchingly hot summer that old familiar itch is back in my head, and my Muse is making her presence felt in my subconscious – just a bit anyway.

Watch this space.