Touch of Cancer by Jean Charity (large screen ebook reader txt) 📕
Excerpt from the book:
Touch of cancer is the inspiring story of how one woman has coped with the onset of a disease that many fear.
Jean Charity, originally from Derby in the United Kingdom but now residing in Spain covers the subject in her own inimitable style. While many would find little to find humourous in such a potentially, serious disease, Jean has succeeded in striking a happy balance between the many funny situations she found herself in and the more serious aspects of her treatment.
One in three people living in the United Kingdom will statistically, at some point in their lives, contract cancer and therefore it is a subject which should be of interest to one and all.
Cancer does not recognize age, colour creed or sex. It attacks indiscriminately and its onset can strike fear into the bravest hearts.
Marvel therefore at how the author has managed to turn a potentially maudlin and depressing subject into an easy read but nevertheless heart warming and inspiring.
Jean Charity, originally from Derby in the United Kingdom but now residing in Spain covers the subject in her own inimitable style. While many would find little to find humourous in such a potentially, serious disease, Jean has succeeded in striking a happy balance between the many funny situations she found herself in and the more serious aspects of her treatment.
One in three people living in the United Kingdom will statistically, at some point in their lives, contract cancer and therefore it is a subject which should be of interest to one and all.
Cancer does not recognize age, colour creed or sex. It attacks indiscriminately and its onset can strike fear into the bravest hearts.
Marvel therefore at how the author has managed to turn a potentially maudlin and depressing subject into an easy read but nevertheless heart warming and inspiring.
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- Author: Jean Charity
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take. How much should I disclose to him about my condition? That too was important.
With regard to the latter, I decided to say nothing. He knew I was undergoing treatment and I felt if he wished to know more and go into more detail I would play it down, but be as honest as possible.
I also decided to say nothing when my teeth fell out (again!). This time during sex. I just shoved them back in as quickly as possible and carried on as though nothing had happened. It really was the only way to deal with that particular situation, as I told myself (tongue in cheek) that he wouldn’t have noticed!
With regard to undressing in front of him, I thought this was best done in the dark, but as that’s not always possible decided to leave any undressing to him. In the throes of male passion I doubt very much whether a man would even notice if one had three legs!
General physical condition I could do absolutely nothing about; but I would set aside at least two hours to bathe, apply a thin layer of fake tan to my face, followed by a bucket-full of make-up to hide the flaws and give me some colour – paying particular attention to the eyelashes.
My aim being that if I mesmerised him with eye-contact and fluttered gorgeous long lashes at him, his attention wouldn’t immediately rove
elsewhere. The big problem here was that I soon lost all my eyelashes, along with eyebrows and, oddly enough, it didn’t seem to matter to him at all. The first time he took my wig off and threw it to the ground saying ‘you don’t need that’ I felt so touched and grateful I could have cried. Should any of the really embarrassing incidents occur, which I seem to have avoided to date due partly to taking a diarrhoea tablet half an hour before which I know will keep me ‘safe’ for at least 5 hours, and cutting down my liquid intake beforehand then, as we are both grown-up people, I shall simply excuse myself whilst I sort out ‘whatever’, returning to him with the words ‘Sorry. it’s the drugs’. I
don’t feel it necessary now to attach any importance to it.
Falling asleep on him? Yes, I sometimes do, but he himself is no spring chicken and he usually nods off too. As he also has health problems and our lives were/are so-to-speak ‘hanging by a thread’, the whole issue of sex has become so much more intense and enjoyable; and perhaps sometimes we need to live a little on the edge to fully appreciate what is on offer to us.
A question arose as to what to do/wear when going out on a date if one had wound-dressings to change. This particular situation doesn’t apply to me, but I should imagine all one can do is wear something loose and floaty; carry fresh dressings and all the necessary accompaniments
in a large shoulder bag; and don’t venture anywhere (i.e.
open fields) where there is no bathroom or suitable facility readily available. As to what to tell in a fairly new relationship – exactly what you do or don’t feel like disclosing. If it applied to me I would say nothing until absolutely necessary and then I would merely tell them I had had a ‘bit of an op.’ and ask them to please carefully avoid touching the area concerned. If questions follow and you do not want to answer, it’s simple to say you don’t wish to discuss it any further because it’s spoiling your nice time out…or something like that. The choice is yours. You say as much or as little as you wish as long as what you do say is the truth, or at least a watered-down version thereof.
To conclude, my fretting and worry was a total waste of time. If you have the right partner with you he will see only the beauty within. And if he doesn’t, then maybe he just isn’t the right partner. Whatever happens to your body you are still YOU inside, so ensure you receive the respect to which you are absolutely entitled.
If you have any doubts whatsoever about indulging in sex during this difficult time in your life, just push them aside. Do the best you can to make yourself feel good; relax; and wait for the adrenalin to kick in. It will be good for your heart. It will bring a glow to your cheeks. And it will be good for you.
SO IF IT IS WHAT YOU WANT, JUST GO FOR IT AND ENJOY IT!!!
To any healthy men out there who may have a partner going through cancer, I would beg you, please – if you don’t do this already – take the time to say nice truthful things to her:
‘You’ve a real sparkle in your eye today’ (which she probably has from the drugs).
‘Your skin looks lovely’ or ‘that hat you’re wearing really suits you’.
She knows what she looks like, and probably thinks it’s a lot worse than it is. A kind word takes no saying; and it can do wonders for the morale.
7
SMOKING
Being born during the Second World War into a family of smokers, and due to the fact that we lived with relatives who were publicans whilst my father was in the RAF, I was literally brought-up in smoke. Memories are very clear of lying safely tucked-up in bed listening to the strains of ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’, ‘Now is the Hour’, and other such war songs which wafted up to me nightly accompanied by billows of smoke. I suppose if I were to consciously relate smoking to anything it would be to comfort, security, and ‘home’; and that lovely smell of smoke clinging to tweed jackets with leather elbow pieces (now so abhorrent to the majority of the public) bring with it feelings of love and protection. The fact that such an anti-smoking attitude now
prevails almost makes me believe the major concern of our politicians and powers-that-be is our health; but the shops continually stacked with tobacco still being manufactured belie this belief! No one was aware of the potential dangers at that time; and for the lads in the trenches or out at sea, savouring their cigarettes in moments of stress was possibly their only relaxation, as with their loved ones at home anxiously awaiting news, but with the sensual use of cigarettes portrayed on the cinema screen it soon became a glamorous and sophisticated thing to be doing. In our ignorance we had absolutely no conception of the harm we were doing to ourselves.
Before I go any further on this subject I must apologise to any smokers out there whose disease has been caused by tobacco. I mean no offence and I feel for you very, very much; but to leave this section out would be to not give a true picture, and as I know I am not the only addict here felt it was too important not to be mentioned. I was actually amazed my own cancer was not ‘caused’ by my habit.
I began smoking when I was 19 years of age, since when I have tried many times to stop. Stopping I can do, but staying-stopped has so far eluded me, even with the help of gum, patches, herbal substitutes, hypnosis and acupuncture. Nothing lasts long – I always go back to it.
When it was forbidden by my specialist I threw my remaining packs over my balcony in the hope that some old passing sea-dog may find them and enjoy them, and I got through the first nine months without too much trouble. I think I was probably feeling a little too poorly to care, but as time went on I would find myself desperate for a cigarette; and am ashamed to admit I am now fully back on them again.
I know I am doing harm to my health; I know it is stupid and ungrateful of me to give in to my addiction; and yes I do feel guilty about it. But with me, all the props in the world won’t help. It is down to my own self-control, confidence and determination; and to have all those qualities at the same time requires one to be totally in command of the situation. I have self-control over many things, but not this; my confidence has taken a huge knock-back; and determination requires energies sadly lacking in me at present.
And so to all of you cancer patients out there who share this habit; if you can cut down to the odd one for a treat I would say you’ve no problems, but if you are like me and cannot do this, then it is your choice and just try not to add worry to the situation. Worry causes stress, and I have believed for many years now that stress is actually our biggest killer, responsible for many of our problems surfacing. Although no longer forbidden me, my Oncologist did hope I wouldn’t restart. I really tried not to, and despite the fact that he has seen me out walking on the ‘Paseo’ with nothing in my hand but my purse and packs of cigarettes just purchased, he has not taken me to task on this. I think he has realised I’m a pretty hopeless case. As has my GP. As far as I am concerned I can either stop smoking, or stop worrying about it, and for the time being I’m taking the easier option. If my life gets back on track one day, who knows? I may be able to give up completely, but I have no intention of wasting even a moment of whatever time may be left to me climbing-up-the-wall with unsatisfied cravings. It is just
too much to ask of me.
To the non-smokers out there I would ask you to please not judge the rest of us too harshly. You cannot know another’s circumstances; you cannot know what their life is like; and you cannot know of their lonely struggles. In my case sometimes the only crutch I have had available has been in that packet I’m scared to be without; and my answer to anyone who has openly criticised me has been:
‘You come and live my life – THEN you can tell me how to do it.’
8
FAITH
My faith in a higher omnipotent source of energy and creativity responsible for the natural beauty and wonders which surround us has been no small contributory factor in my still being here today. It is a very powerful force.
When my Surgeon first told me I had cancer I accepted his news with a calmness which surprised me. I felt no desire to rail or storm against it (millions of people have cancer – why not me?); and tears were at that stage nowhere in the equation. A feeling of pure peace descended upon me. I take no credit for this. It wasn’t the reaction I would have expected; but my main feeling was one of relief that finally I knew what was wrong with me. My last thoughts that night as I settled down in bed were: ‘Well, I am now in the hands of God, Spirit, and the Medical Profession and I shall either be ‘‘taken home’’ or guided through. Either way I have nothing to fear.’ And nor had I.
I was with my father when he died from cancer and ever since I
With regard to the latter, I decided to say nothing. He knew I was undergoing treatment and I felt if he wished to know more and go into more detail I would play it down, but be as honest as possible.
I also decided to say nothing when my teeth fell out (again!). This time during sex. I just shoved them back in as quickly as possible and carried on as though nothing had happened. It really was the only way to deal with that particular situation, as I told myself (tongue in cheek) that he wouldn’t have noticed!
With regard to undressing in front of him, I thought this was best done in the dark, but as that’s not always possible decided to leave any undressing to him. In the throes of male passion I doubt very much whether a man would even notice if one had three legs!
General physical condition I could do absolutely nothing about; but I would set aside at least two hours to bathe, apply a thin layer of fake tan to my face, followed by a bucket-full of make-up to hide the flaws and give me some colour – paying particular attention to the eyelashes.
My aim being that if I mesmerised him with eye-contact and fluttered gorgeous long lashes at him, his attention wouldn’t immediately rove
elsewhere. The big problem here was that I soon lost all my eyelashes, along with eyebrows and, oddly enough, it didn’t seem to matter to him at all. The first time he took my wig off and threw it to the ground saying ‘you don’t need that’ I felt so touched and grateful I could have cried. Should any of the really embarrassing incidents occur, which I seem to have avoided to date due partly to taking a diarrhoea tablet half an hour before which I know will keep me ‘safe’ for at least 5 hours, and cutting down my liquid intake beforehand then, as we are both grown-up people, I shall simply excuse myself whilst I sort out ‘whatever’, returning to him with the words ‘Sorry. it’s the drugs’. I
don’t feel it necessary now to attach any importance to it.
Falling asleep on him? Yes, I sometimes do, but he himself is no spring chicken and he usually nods off too. As he also has health problems and our lives were/are so-to-speak ‘hanging by a thread’, the whole issue of sex has become so much more intense and enjoyable; and perhaps sometimes we need to live a little on the edge to fully appreciate what is on offer to us.
A question arose as to what to do/wear when going out on a date if one had wound-dressings to change. This particular situation doesn’t apply to me, but I should imagine all one can do is wear something loose and floaty; carry fresh dressings and all the necessary accompaniments
in a large shoulder bag; and don’t venture anywhere (i.e.
open fields) where there is no bathroom or suitable facility readily available. As to what to tell in a fairly new relationship – exactly what you do or don’t feel like disclosing. If it applied to me I would say nothing until absolutely necessary and then I would merely tell them I had had a ‘bit of an op.’ and ask them to please carefully avoid touching the area concerned. If questions follow and you do not want to answer, it’s simple to say you don’t wish to discuss it any further because it’s spoiling your nice time out…or something like that. The choice is yours. You say as much or as little as you wish as long as what you do say is the truth, or at least a watered-down version thereof.
To conclude, my fretting and worry was a total waste of time. If you have the right partner with you he will see only the beauty within. And if he doesn’t, then maybe he just isn’t the right partner. Whatever happens to your body you are still YOU inside, so ensure you receive the respect to which you are absolutely entitled.
If you have any doubts whatsoever about indulging in sex during this difficult time in your life, just push them aside. Do the best you can to make yourself feel good; relax; and wait for the adrenalin to kick in. It will be good for your heart. It will bring a glow to your cheeks. And it will be good for you.
SO IF IT IS WHAT YOU WANT, JUST GO FOR IT AND ENJOY IT!!!
To any healthy men out there who may have a partner going through cancer, I would beg you, please – if you don’t do this already – take the time to say nice truthful things to her:
‘You’ve a real sparkle in your eye today’ (which she probably has from the drugs).
‘Your skin looks lovely’ or ‘that hat you’re wearing really suits you’.
She knows what she looks like, and probably thinks it’s a lot worse than it is. A kind word takes no saying; and it can do wonders for the morale.
7
SMOKING
Being born during the Second World War into a family of smokers, and due to the fact that we lived with relatives who were publicans whilst my father was in the RAF, I was literally brought-up in smoke. Memories are very clear of lying safely tucked-up in bed listening to the strains of ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’, ‘Now is the Hour’, and other such war songs which wafted up to me nightly accompanied by billows of smoke. I suppose if I were to consciously relate smoking to anything it would be to comfort, security, and ‘home’; and that lovely smell of smoke clinging to tweed jackets with leather elbow pieces (now so abhorrent to the majority of the public) bring with it feelings of love and protection. The fact that such an anti-smoking attitude now
prevails almost makes me believe the major concern of our politicians and powers-that-be is our health; but the shops continually stacked with tobacco still being manufactured belie this belief! No one was aware of the potential dangers at that time; and for the lads in the trenches or out at sea, savouring their cigarettes in moments of stress was possibly their only relaxation, as with their loved ones at home anxiously awaiting news, but with the sensual use of cigarettes portrayed on the cinema screen it soon became a glamorous and sophisticated thing to be doing. In our ignorance we had absolutely no conception of the harm we were doing to ourselves.
Before I go any further on this subject I must apologise to any smokers out there whose disease has been caused by tobacco. I mean no offence and I feel for you very, very much; but to leave this section out would be to not give a true picture, and as I know I am not the only addict here felt it was too important not to be mentioned. I was actually amazed my own cancer was not ‘caused’ by my habit.
I began smoking when I was 19 years of age, since when I have tried many times to stop. Stopping I can do, but staying-stopped has so far eluded me, even with the help of gum, patches, herbal substitutes, hypnosis and acupuncture. Nothing lasts long – I always go back to it.
When it was forbidden by my specialist I threw my remaining packs over my balcony in the hope that some old passing sea-dog may find them and enjoy them, and I got through the first nine months without too much trouble. I think I was probably feeling a little too poorly to care, but as time went on I would find myself desperate for a cigarette; and am ashamed to admit I am now fully back on them again.
I know I am doing harm to my health; I know it is stupid and ungrateful of me to give in to my addiction; and yes I do feel guilty about it. But with me, all the props in the world won’t help. It is down to my own self-control, confidence and determination; and to have all those qualities at the same time requires one to be totally in command of the situation. I have self-control over many things, but not this; my confidence has taken a huge knock-back; and determination requires energies sadly lacking in me at present.
And so to all of you cancer patients out there who share this habit; if you can cut down to the odd one for a treat I would say you’ve no problems, but if you are like me and cannot do this, then it is your choice and just try not to add worry to the situation. Worry causes stress, and I have believed for many years now that stress is actually our biggest killer, responsible for many of our problems surfacing. Although no longer forbidden me, my Oncologist did hope I wouldn’t restart. I really tried not to, and despite the fact that he has seen me out walking on the ‘Paseo’ with nothing in my hand but my purse and packs of cigarettes just purchased, he has not taken me to task on this. I think he has realised I’m a pretty hopeless case. As has my GP. As far as I am concerned I can either stop smoking, or stop worrying about it, and for the time being I’m taking the easier option. If my life gets back on track one day, who knows? I may be able to give up completely, but I have no intention of wasting even a moment of whatever time may be left to me climbing-up-the-wall with unsatisfied cravings. It is just
too much to ask of me.
To the non-smokers out there I would ask you to please not judge the rest of us too harshly. You cannot know another’s circumstances; you cannot know what their life is like; and you cannot know of their lonely struggles. In my case sometimes the only crutch I have had available has been in that packet I’m scared to be without; and my answer to anyone who has openly criticised me has been:
‘You come and live my life – THEN you can tell me how to do it.’
8
FAITH
My faith in a higher omnipotent source of energy and creativity responsible for the natural beauty and wonders which surround us has been no small contributory factor in my still being here today. It is a very powerful force.
When my Surgeon first told me I had cancer I accepted his news with a calmness which surprised me. I felt no desire to rail or storm against it (millions of people have cancer – why not me?); and tears were at that stage nowhere in the equation. A feeling of pure peace descended upon me. I take no credit for this. It wasn’t the reaction I would have expected; but my main feeling was one of relief that finally I knew what was wrong with me. My last thoughts that night as I settled down in bed were: ‘Well, I am now in the hands of God, Spirit, and the Medical Profession and I shall either be ‘‘taken home’’ or guided through. Either way I have nothing to fear.’ And nor had I.
I was with my father when he died from cancer and ever since I
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