I had managed a very short swim yesterday at the 'Fina del mundo' beach (End of the world) which is equally remote but even more difficult to access down a very long and steep scrambly path. Poor Tanya had to be carried some of the way down and most of the way back up; not an easy task on a steep cliff hugging loose gravel slippery path in very hot sun. Her back legs are definitely starting to loose strength on steep climbs but on the level or gentle slopes she does just fine. None the less that first very short swim was the encouragement I needed for today. Alia had mentioned she was going to 'Caletta' and she is a good swimmer so I felt further emboldened to have another go but this time with snorkel. Plus, as its a longer, but less risky/difficult walk I did it the even longer way, by road using my e bike with Tanya in her green bucket. She was a lot happier and quite at ease tackling the final flight of steps once e bike was safely secured at the small parking area.
Nobody took a blind bit of notice either as this blaringly obvious 'unbronzed and scarred' body toddled across the beach and into/out of the water. Mind you there were not that many takers of the pleasure of swimming in the still, according to Spanish temperature sensing, freezing water. But no matter. I was delighted and despite my body being a lot thinner than previous the body temperature sensing worked as normal which was something I'd been nervous about. Would my body react OK to the initial cold or would it seize up possibly shocking me into a seizure or something? Well I've now proved post op body is going to do no such thing. Get the shoulders under water as quickly as possible, six or seven seconds of shock as blood is moved rapidly away from the skin and then within another ten seconds or so total acclimatisation to the water temperature. Such a good feeling. I have not pushed it though. I know I am not as fit as I was plus I am thinner and considerably lighter than I have ever been. Ten to twelve minutes was enough to enable a feeling of encroaching overall coldness but not enough to have me, and my old, thin, very white and scarred body, crawling up the beach shivering and hyperthermic which, would not be a pretty or acceptable spectacle for the mix of bronzed new age beach dwellers or the more adventurous and liberated young and old holidaymakers dotting the beach in various stages of bronzed nakedness. "Yes; I had better spare them all that horrific image". I thought to myself as I floated serenely among the rocks in the gentle swell following shoals of medium sized stripey fish.
I was tired, somewhat sunburned, but pleased as Tanya and I made our way back up the steps. Such a relief as e bike made easy going of the steep rough track through the terraced Avocado and Nispora fruit orchards and finally the tarmac'd, but still steep, road back to Maro. Just a short hop then to the secluded, ocean view wild spot I was parked in and sharing with Alia and, nearly my age, new ager Bernard from Germany.
A great day that ended with Tanya and I accompanying Lena and her three large doggy's back to her cliff hugging cottage where she sliced off an 'Alo Vera' leaf for me to apply its healing balm to some rather crimson bits of my anatomy. One day I'll remember to put that stronger sun cream in my beach rucksack.
.........
"yes; it is always difficult to find just the right spot in a 'Carthosis' affected back such as yours. But here we go I think this will be an ideal spot."
That was the last thing I remember hearing before drifting into an aneasthetic coma for over five hours as two skilled surgeons removed my cancer affected Oesophagus. Today, April 19, is my first anniversary of that momentous day. No wonder I've been feeling a bit comumbulated.
I find it quite difficult to get my head around these sort of 'life altering' events, of which cancer was just the latest of several that have deeply altered and affected my journey upon this planet. Things outwardly carry on as normal but the rucksack of 'baggage ' takes on a slightly different weight and feel with every new event. That subtle shift affects 'normal' so that it is a different normal in every way. Different actions, different thoughts, different dreams, food and different people crossing your path.
There is nobody crossing my path tonight however: A contemplative reflection upon my more than good fortune is required so I am wild parked in a remote location with blue sea and steeply rising hills filling my Moho's doorway. Waves crashing against the ancient coral limestone cliffs with high pitched birdsong form the soundscape. It is Good Friday but an unusually cool and dull one for this Murcia area of Spain so the Bank Holiday crowds of exuberant Spaniards seem to have stayed away, probably in the popular touristy bits of this beautiful wild and largely agricultural coastline.
Yes: a good place to reflect upon this last year's Surreal journey. A journey where death was firmly on the script sheet as it always is once the big C word is mentioned. A journey of twists and turns, of despair and strong love and support and one of convincing and accepting that Moho life was over. Yet here I am, a mere 365 days on looking out from my Moho door, and hardly daring to believe that what I am seeing is real. Meanwhile Tanya snores gently on her bed after having eaten a good dinner. Guess I'm a very lucky guy.
Thank you all for all of that love and support along the way. It seems to have helped.
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