On the occasion of my fortieth birthday

When I awoke this morning, I was forty. It is quite unreal. Forty year olds are meant to be adults and do adult things like be married and have families and know what they want to do with their lives and know who they are. I still don’t feel like an adult at times and often wonder when someone is going to spot the imposter parading about in the adult section and kick me out.

Forty. Another milestone met. I am not really one for celebrating birthdays but today did make me look back at other milestones across the years. Some are societal, such as hitting a certain birthday, but most are more personal events so today has been bitter sweet. It also made me question what I am doing and where I am going.

Time moves on and I think back to the first birthday after my mother died with a sense of shock. She has been gone for a quarter of my life and that thought fills me with such sadness. I know how she would have responded to my email in September – she would have booked the next flight out! I think of all the things she has missed: her grand kids and some big birthdays, successes she would have celebrated and failures she would have commiserated over. I still miss her everyday and wonder if my wanderings are a way of running away from the lack of her existence.

Other milestones are less emotional and more obvious, such as previous birthdays or events I recall from living in various countries. I will certainly not be forgetting living here – the place I found a few lumps and lost a breast! That said, had I been elsewhere, the outcome may not have been the same and I may have had to return to the UK for treatment. Some milestones I have yet to appreciate, although I am sure that time will come.

One milestone I have met today is that of being a non-smoker when I turn forty. I found a packet of cigarettes hidden away today and gave in to the impulse to smoke one after being smoke free for several months. I felt nothing really, and am glad. Glad that I didn’t enjoy the sensation and glad that I couldn’t really understand what had had such a hold over me for so long. Long live the e-cig!

My celebration this evening consists of a few friends and a lot of Greek food at a local hotel which is featuring a Greek chef. I am looking forward to some memories of my time in Greece and, hopefully, some of my favourite foods too.

Surplus to requirements

Much as we would all like to think otherwise, we are not irreplaceable. Like our reduce reuse, recycle society, people are often mere commodities in the work place. This has certainly been brought home to me recently and has been churning through my brain (and stressing me out) for the last couple of months.

Granted, I don’t expect the entire world to come to a complete stop because I am not present. I grew out of that around my second birthday. I am fully aware that someone must replace me at work: the children must be educated; lessons must be taught; reports must be written. This is not what created this volcanic burning deep inside. What started the slow burn was the feeling that I was being brushed aside when I was willing, and able, to work a couple of days a week.

I felt patronised and belittled when I offered to take on tasks and was effectively ignored. I found that, having completed tasks I volunteered for such as planning lessons, the work I had discussed with colleagues and completed was not being used. Having spent several hours planning the units for this academic year, making adaptations to current resources and creating entire schemes, it is beyond disheartening to have all of the work thrown out with no consultation.

To be honest, I feel like I no longer belong to the school, like I am not a member of staff. If it weren’t for my pay check going into my bank, I wouldn’t believe it myself. My department doesn’t communicate with me, nor does my head of school or my principal – unless I instigate discussions. Even then, I am brushed off with a wave and a ‘rest, relax, recover, enjoy your time off’. Anyone would think I was on holiday! Until I am required for something, of course, at which point I must drop everything and make myself available.

I am sure that others in my situation have had a similar response from colleagues. I shall let you I to a secret: We want to be valued and recognised. We may not be present all of the time, but we can still contribute. In fact, I want to contribute. I don’t want to ‘rest, relax, recover’ as it is slowly driving me stark staring crazy. You need money to be a real lady of leisure, and I don’t have enough of it.

Looking ahead to when I am recovered, I won’t be returning to the classroom, which is fine with me as doing so would be too disruptive to the students. Apparently my skills will be utilised elsewhere, whatever that means. I foresee cover, and primary children!  Unfortunately I also foresee a great deal of time wasting.

If you want someone to feel undervalued and unwanted, then ignore their heartfelt attempts to remain included. This is a sure fire way to make them feel anything but rested or relaxed, it is sure to create stress and even minor depression. Believe me, walking into work now, I have the exact opposite of the positive attitude so many prattle on about.

THAT phrase will be the subject of another post.

Chrimble Plans

Christmas Day meant delaying my next round of chemo to ensure that I could at least taste the food – and it was well worth it! A bonus of living internationally is the accessibility of four or five star hotels to ex-pats, in terms of costs, for a delicious multi-cultural buffet meal of epic proportions. Having confused myself mightily during the internet search for the best deal for a buffet, I selected the Sheraton Imperial and we were all pleasantly surprised to find party favour bags and funky hats on all the tables. Surrounded by a variety of plastic hatted cowboys, we wore our own Chrimble hats with pride (I did have to remove my head scarf first) and I tinkled and jingled all afternoon with my little bells.

The Sheraton was tastefully decorated, unlike some of the malls, although I do wish there was a dress code for such events. It irritates mightily that the majority of women make an effort to dress prettily whilst a number of guys throw on scrappy jeans and a shitty t- shirt. It irritates on two fronts; one that the guy seems to be saying that this level of effort is all a date with the missus is worth and two that the women don’t say something to the guy dressed so overly casually. No date of mine would get away with dressing down when I had dressed up!

Food wise, I was most impressed as there was a wide variety that I could enjoy, although I still think that Jakarta holds the trophy for best buffet – it is the duck pancakes that tip the balance! As with many hotels here there is an Indian section, a pseudo-Western section, a sushi section and, of course, the Chinese section along with the usual salad, cheese board and dessert areas. Whilst a little more expensive than the Majestic, the Sheraton certainly put on a great spread. The Majestic usually wins out simply due to the addition of free-flow wine – not that I am imbibing right now anyway.

Numerous little touches in the form of gingerbread houses and gingerbread Christmas trees, along with fondant Santa and snowmen, dotted various areas. Despite the various children about, they weren’t loud or obnoxious and Santa hadn’t promised to make an appearance so they were quiet and well- behaved. To be honest, one criteria for booking was a lack of provision made especially for children. A terrible thing for a teacher to say, I know.

Marvellous company, of course, rounded out the day with laughter and giggles all round as we mocked the local populace and the ex-pats (as I am sure they mocked us) for their dress and the overly loud use of Manglish (Mangled Malay/Mandarin English) in our presence as well as discussing general stuff as women will.

Our day ended with Skype chats with the olds and ultra-olds prior to the watching of one of my sister’s pressies in the form of Wolverine, although neither of us thought this to be a particularly impressive film bar the appearance of ol’ Hugh. The mutts were suitably exhausted after chewing down on a lamb knuckle bone during our absence and so settled down nicely to allow us to drool over Mr J.

Malls

As a female, I do occasionally conform to stereotype and quite enjoy a leisurely day shopping at the mall. A bit of retail therapy never fails to put a smile on my face. Shopping when you have been having chemo, though, is a whole new experience! There are so many different concerns that have never previously been an issue. Keeping an eye out for the nearest bathrooms, just in case, is now a new part of my shopping fun.

Today was my first full day out and about after the last round of chemo AND the initial shaving of the head. Whilst I have meandered around locally with a large sun hat, I haven’t even really experimented with head scarves, which I shall need to in the near future. Firstly, my ears are cold! I didn’t realise just how much I relied on even the short hair styles I have been playing with over the years to keep my ears warm. Wandering around a mall that is temperature controlled was chilly. How do guys deal with this?

On the one hand, I am thankful that I shan’t have to experience the extremes of temperature that would require woollen hats and scarves and ear muffs and other winter paraphernalia. On the other hand, such objects would certainly make life easier and being able to wear a beanie all day would be fine. When the temperature is regularly in the thirties, woollen scarves and hats are somewhat redundant. Even wearing a beanie all day is likely to be uncomfortably hot and sweaty, unless I spend all day in the mall!

This obviously leaves a variety cotton or silk scarves and, perhaps, different kinds of hats. The advantage here is that there are so many shops selling Islamic headscarves that I have a wide selection of shops to choose from. Not much use until I have figured out how to tie a few basics though. In the interim, I have a couple of wool-look caps, a sun hat or two, a couple of turbans and a couple of new scarves to play with.

Keeping an eye out for a different wardrobe is also on the agenda as I can no longer just wander about in various vest tops as chemotherapy can create sun sensitivity, so now I must be extra careful when out and about. Slipping a shirt over the top is one obvious answer but I also don’t really want to be dressing like the stereotypical chemo patient in loose baggy clothing all the time. I would like to look like I do have some kind of style but don’t want to spend a fortune revamping my wardrobe. Apparently there is a local business that does a whole Style Therapy overhaul so I shall be contacting them to get some advice on my current clothing capabilities.

My final purchase today has been a set of hair clippers. Hair doesn’t fall from your head in a neat progression which has been somewhat of a surprise. I have developed a long line of bald running up the right side of my head. Mind you, even with clippers, the new look is not all that tidy despite my sister’s first attempt. Practice makes perfect and all that … In the meantime, I shall visit a barber to ensure a clean shave as the current one is a little messy and is not at all attractive.

Overall, retail therapy is still therapeutic – it just requires a slightly different mindset.