How it all began

It all began with the Country Living website (sorry!!). That day was the day that I just couldn’t resist the urge any more. I had put the cursor over “keep your own here” so many times and, of course, wimped out. But, you know what? It was ChickenLicken (as was) who gave me the courage to do it! I read her blog, and thought “My God – this is SO like my life story”.

No, I ABSOLUTELY didn't want to enter the competition/promotion, whatever it ended up being. I wasn't being a hero; I just felt the need to share bloglife, without the pressure and with no end in sight.

Like ChickenLicken, my life changed due illness. I was 24, had gone to the doctors for my routine prescription of the pill and BANG, there it all happened. My wonderful GP leant towards me and took hold of my hands, examining them and turning them this way and that. He gently held my face and gazed carefully all over – scanning me almost. I won’t bore you with the details but, quick as a flash, I was referred to the (then) QE Hospital in Birmingham, near the university (I’m a Brummie). GP had a friend who was a rheumatologist there. There’d been a course on something called C.R.E.S.T. He felt I should go and see him. God! What the hell was C.R.E.S.T?

To cut a very long story short, I didn’t have C.R.E.S.T but I did have Scleroderma. What? I had this test and that test. It is part of the Lupus family and comes under the umbrella of auto-immune system disease and arthritis/rheumatism. There is no cure. Bloody hell. I’m going to die. But I’m only 24. No! This isn’t happening to me.

Within weeks, the disease had accelerated and I had to have a plasma exchange through a central line (a tube into the artery in the neck), followed swiftly by my first dose of chemotherapy. I got so ill. Not from the chemo – I tolerated that, surprisingly. I was only a size 8 before, but my weight plummeted and I looked like a skeleton. Husband #1 nursed me and learnt how to maintain my “lines” from the district nurse.

Three years later, having become “stabilized” (a favourite doctor term), life was beginning to get back to normal. My employer had been TOTALLY amazing and supportive, and things were getting good again. BANG. Another body blow. Husband#1 sat me on the sofa (or is that settee?) and calmly told me he wasn’t in love with me anymore. Oh! He did still love me like a sister, but just that everything that had happened meant he didn’t fancy me anymore. I understand, darling. Yes, of course. Who would fancy me now? I crumpled. But only for a bit. I’m made of strong stuff, you see. I was 27. We separated for 2 years, during which time I dated, half heartedly. Always hoping we’d get back together when he’d “got it out of his system”, whatever “it” was. “It” happened to be a blonde (I’m reddish/brown), 5 years younger than me – huge tits (am I allowed to say that word?). I know!!!! You don’t need to tell yell at me. I was a prat, waiting like that. Had to do it though. Had to be sure. Marriage was for life wasn’t it?

Went on girlie break, aged 29, ski-ing in Austria. What? With Scleroderma and Raynaud’s? Handsome rheumatologist said “Go, girl”, so “go” I did.

Sat in bar, drinking, as you do. Bloke with broad shoulders, thinning on top, with pools for eyes – “oh my God! He winked at me!!” Sat up ‘til 4am talking. Haven’t I known you forever? We parted (yes we snogged!) and he said “I’m going to marry you!” Bloody hell. And yes we did, in 1998.

I moved to Kent, to husband#2. We enjoyed life there for 3 years. The countryside around Westerham pulled and that was the dream………. But, we went to visit friends near Tenbury Wells and they took us to Ludlow, Hay-on-Wye and the surrounding Herefordshire countryside. We fell in love. Again. This was where we wanted to be. Husband#2 took charge and before we knew it, we were on the market and house-hunting with a vengeance. I had had to give up my job by now (the bad days didn’t outweigh the good days, but they were inconvenient for my employer). I had worked for a large firm of solicitors on Fleet Street, in the personnel department, or HR if you want to be PC. Don’t you just hate all these abbreviations? So, we were free to move wherever we wanted.

J (husband#2) is self-employed: an umbrella maker of the 4th generation of his family. Unusual? You bet! Only stipulation: we had to be able to get around the country to work our shows: Bakewell, Shrewsbury Flower Show, Tavistock Goose Fair, Neath Fair, The Royal Welsh Show, Lincoln Christmas Market…….. We ruled out Ludlow and Shropshire, eventually, because it was just that bit too far from SE London, where J’s elderly and infirm father still lived. We edged further south into Herefordshire and finally “found” our perfect place on the border with Gloucestershire, in the triangle from the Malvern Hills, Ledbury and Ross-on-Wye. Still farmed; not over-developed; fabulous scenery; great transport network and quiet. Totally perfect.

Our wish-list-house changed, as they so often do. 3 bedrooms became 2. Detached became attached. We did get the huge garden. We also got the fields surrounding our plot. We got the outbuilding and the beloved Rayburn. We also got “not in character” fireplaces, a plastic bathroom suite, draughty windows and a shower that all the tiles fell off on the first day. Did we care? No. We were, and are in heaven. Illness can ruin your life? Yes, it can, but, in my case, although I’m still battling this disease, my life couldn’t be more perfect.