July 31st:

Seems I am not the only stricken member of the Bembridge Wheelers cycle club. Murray has broken his leg in three places and is wheelchair bound with external pins. Janet has a problem with her eye which means her vision is badly affected and she can’t cycle. Nonetheless four of us ventured out today despite the forecast of rain, and managed a very warm and pleasant ride to Puckpool and back.

I had a frantic call from Caroline this morning. She thought she had lost her camera and possibly left it in the beach hut. Chris and I diverted the return trip to the beach hut and he did a total search of the area. It is a very confined space so not difficult to see there was no camera secreted anywhere. Alls well that ends well, and the camera was found eventually at the bottom of a bag.

I am exhausted after the ride. My swollen tummy is putting a strain on me when I breathe, and I found myself wheezing and puffing a lot more than usual. Luckily the inhalers are quite effective at relieving the symptoms.
Today I receive my first letter from the Hospice. They have made me an appointment for august 14th to see the consultant about treatment. My GP feels it is a better idea to go there rather than back to the hospital. I agree. Given a choice I wouldn’t set foot in a hospital ever again.

July 30th: Sun Sand Sea

Despite a grim forecast it has been one of those perfect summer days today. Caroline and Jim came over on the early ferry with their grandson Sam. It was a great excuse for me to rummage in the trunk for some sand toys, skittles, football, wet suits and paddlers in preparation for Levana, Ziva and Batsheva's visit.

Though he was a bit hesitant at first before long Sam was in the sea and loving it. We had lunch in the beach cafe and spent the afternoon exploring rock pools and fishing. The only thing Sam caught were some stones, but he had great fun trying and didn't seem to mind the inactivity of his catch.

It was so good to see them all. I am determined it won't be the last time we meet.

Tomorrow I see the Warfarin nurse again, and on Friday I have arranged to speak to the Macmillan nurse. We could do with some practical advice.

July 29th: visitors

Pat and David (Chris' sister and husband) came to stay for a couple of days. Though I didn't feel one hundred percent the whole time I did enjoy myself walking, talking and sharing nostalgic moments, words of old songs and generally laughing a lot. I am doing a lot of laughing.
I tried the 'asparagus' cure that Gerald emailed me, but now I am so sick of asparagus I just gave up on it and enjoyed a glass of wine instead. As my Grandpa always said: "a little of what you fancy does you good."


This morning I received yet another email from a work colleague. I found it quite touching. She writes:

Hi Lin
It was lovely to see you at our end of term do and to see you last Wednesday at School.

I have to admit that I didn't want to say anything to you when everyone went over to the staffroom - I would have just ended up blabbering and that wouldn't have done anyone any good!

I want to remember you in your office leaning back in your chair - laughing at me -or offering advice - over making me a cup of tea whilst I was crying my eyes out - an answer to everything!! A refuge! And that is the picture I have at the moment.

I washed some tea-towels today - I took them in from the line and thought 'she's right - life is too short to iron tea towels!'
I folded them up and put them in the drawer - no one will notice! I am never going to iron them again!!

Difficult to end this e-mail - you have had an enormous impact on a lot of people. You won't be forgotten.

July 27th: tests, diagnoses

It was fun having Gwen and her daughter to visit. We laughed a lot and reminisced on old times in the General; mostly the amusing side of it all. It did us a power of good.




















In school last week and I realise there is a connection between Education and the Health Service. Whilst in Education we frequently spend so much time testing children (at government request; SATS, GCSE’s etc) that we forget about their learning and emotional needs. Similarly in the NHS we diagnose ad infinitum sometimes losing the patient in a maelstrom of invasive and painful procedures. We forget about quality of life. There is a lesson to be learned from both sides.

24th July: Retirement

The thought of saying goodbye to colleagues after 8 years at Carisbrooke seemed a daunting prospect when I woke yesterday morning, but once at school I felt more comfortable. It is a strange feeling both to belong to yet no longer be part of an organisation. Some of the students chatted to me about their timetables and it almost felt like old times. A few colleagues (fortunately not many) could scarcely give me eye contact. I felt for them. They just did not know what to say. Sad, I think, that we are not brought up with the capacity to deal with death or indeed with any kind of disablement. I can remember after Mum died some would cross the road rather than speak to me.

There were lots of farewell speeches. I hadn’t pre-rehearsed what I was going to say. There was a time when I would have been really nervous speaking to so many people, but yesterday the words just came to me. I told them that one thing I had learnt is that life is too short for ironing tea-towels. I also told them of the only two pieces of advice I had received as a novice teacher: 1. Don’t smile until half term. 2: Last year we had a teacher smaller than you and the kids were terrified of her.

I reassured them that I had passed on my expertise to others (Shaun and Julie) and also had brought in books for them to loan which could help.
The Head said some wonderful things about me, but one sentence sticks in my mind. I had told her the quote I wanted on the commemorative plaque: “to know that one life has breathed easier because you have lived”. She assured me it was lots of lives who were breathing easier. That made me feel warm inside.
Mary, the Head also plugged my book and I sold 3 copies plus the promise from others they would order it.
It wasn’t an easy day for me, but looking back, I am delighted that I made the effort to attend.

22nd July: A social life

Yesterday we went into Newport to sort out a few financial things. I have made an appointment to see our solicitor on Friday. It feels strange to be doing this in preparation for death, when deep down I still feel marginally immortal. Slightly less so perhaps than before, but nonetheless…..Rachel Jon and the children have their tickets booked for the last week in August. Wonderful news.
I have had so many lovely words from people, even some I have never met, who read the blog and find it inspirational. Perhaps while I am still inspirational my job here isn’t quite done. I’d better carry on inspiring, just in case.
Gwen and her daughter are coming to visit for the day on Thursday. We plan a barbeque in the garden; the forecast is excellent. Caroline and Jim are arriving next week with their grandson Sam. I think he will enjoy himself down on the beach. Gerald and Teresa are coming over on the 8th and our friend Judy from France is due on the 11th August. Not sure my social diary has ever been this full.

20th July: Change of Plan

My trip to Canada is off. I saw my own GP and he is justifiably concerned that all the swelling in my abdomen would be exacerbated by a long haul flight. I could end up very ill or in extreme discomfort. Added to to that I can’t get travel insurance without a letter from the consultant declaring I am fit to travel. According to the consultant I am not fit to travel.

Rachel and Jonathan are being really supportive. Despite the hassles of transatlantic travel with three small children, they will do their very best to come over to visit me towards the end of August. It does mean that I can have time and fun with the children. It has cheered me up immensely.

19th July

I’ve had calls from friends in tears. I’ve had floods of emails. It is good to be so well thought of.

I was invited to the end of term department meal yesterday evening. Julie whom I worked with really closely at Carisbrooke rang me and we chatted for a while. I asked if she could give me a lift and she arranged for Shaun to pick us both up and drive us to Rookley. Interestingly Julie confessed later in the evening she had been scared of phoning me but once we were talking she was relieved she’d taken the plunge. I totally understood. In some ways you imagine someone with this kind of news will be different somehow and you don’t know what to say. Well I am just the same me underneath and I spent the whole evening laughing and joking with colleagues. I wasn’t afraid to mention how I feel about it all and I was open and frank with them, but none of that detracted from the good time. I think that everyone was really pleased to see me. Even staff I hadn’t met previously recognised me from photos and told me they had heard so much about me. I was reassured that not a day goes by when they don’t miss me! Miss the way that I always listen to them and help them find solutions to their problems without being prescriptive about it. I think my head was so big by the end of the evening that it wouldn’t fit in the doorway.

It was hard to find clothes to fit. All the trousers that just about do up round my swollen abdomen are so baggy in the leg they make me look like a clown. But I sat down all evening so I don’t think anyone noticed. At least there were a lot of colleagues keen to buy my book! That should help the sales along somewhat.

Yes I have my moments of upset, but I am trying hard not to waste the time I have.

July 18th

The procedure is a bit nerve-wracking. The Radiologist tells me that he had wanted to wait a little longer before inserting the stent. If he can’t do it he will replace the drain. I can’t cope with the thought of having the drain a minute longer. Luckily he does successfully insert the stent. I am given a heavy sedative and remember nothing about it. When I awake I feel nothing more than a slight ache. That’s a bonus. Back on the ward Moaning Min is in full throttle. The nurses have clearly had a basin full. They exchange knowing glances and continue with their tasks. I have to stay still until 9pm. I am so relieved that the drain is gone. According to the Radiologist my billiary tract is ‘ shot to pieces’…nice.
It is not until Tuesday that the Team have their multi disciplinary meeting. Jo the co-ordinator comes and speaks to me first. “They have studied your scans at the meeting. They have no doubt that the cancer has spread to your pelvis. I’m so sorry” After I stop crying I ask her what this effectively means in terms of lifespan and symptoms; for that I have to wait to see the surgeon. He couldn’t be nicer. He is honest and frank. He agrees that Chemo is not a viable option and he wouldn’t have it if he were in my position. We agree on no further interventions, bar palliative care via the GP. That suits me.
I wake this morning crying at the thought of leaving my children behind. It is gut wrenching. Then I pull myself together and decide to go down for a swim. It is great to feel that salt water on my skin and to glide through a glassy clear sea. Now the drain is removed the dressing is waterproof and remains dry. It certainly won’t be the last time I do that. Whilst I swim, Chris makes me a hot drink in the beach hut. I am able to change into dry clothes immediately near the warmth of the camping stove. Wonderful. I feel certain if I can continue to enjoy life like this I will last longer than predicted.

July 13th

We arrived home yesterday; the prognosis is awful. The cancer has returned in my pelvis and there is nothing else they can do. They have given me a few months to live.
Of course I am shocked; this is so unexpected. I knew there was a chance it might return, but not quite so quickly.
So now I have to come to terms with everything. Naturally I intend to fight tooth and nail for as much time as I can. I aim to do as many things as possible each day that make me happy. I won’t mope; that is a waste. The worst part is the thought of saying goodbye to friends and family, and not seeing them again. The easier bit for me is death. I am nervous of the process but have been assured that it will be managed well via the GP and the palliative team, so I shouldn’t have to suffer. I could get another obstruction, so I can take preventative measures. Otherwise there will be no more trips to hospital, no more scans; that is the plus side.
I told a close friend and colleague the news and she has told everyone at school. I had a call today from the Head Teacher. They are calling the Support Centre after me (The Lin Sheffrin Student Support Centre) since I founded it. There will also be a plaque and a book for students and ex students to write in. She assures me I will not be forgotten. I realise that there isn’t anything anyone can really say about this. I can’t think what to say either. I thought about giving up on the Blog in case it started to sound too ‘morbid’ but have decided to carry on, picking out mainly the positives and the amusing incidents. Another thing to leave behind when I go, to add to the memoir.
The doctors think that a trip to Canada will be too much for me, but I want to see Rachel Jonathan and the Grandchildren again, so I still intend to travel in early September. Other than that I think I will just ask friends to come and see us if they want.
It was a strange trip to Southampton this time. The lift arrived exactly on time, we walked directly onto the Red Jet ferry and straight onto the free bus to the station. Just as we arrived the hospital bus pulled in. No hitches, no glitches. I didn’t even have to wait long for a bed this time, and by 1pm I was taken to ward E7. As usual there were some interesting fellow patients. When I saw the lady in the first bed I took a deep breath; it was ‘moaning Minnie’, still moaning, but now on the E ward with me as opposed to the F ward…oh great! Sheila in the bed opposite was telling Jean about the lunch she’d had. “The roast lamb was ok except the black bits”. Not much change there then.
I caught a glimpse of Sue, the domestic and Tea\coffee lady I befriended in E8. She was thrilled to see me. She told me all about her recent holiday in Greece. What a remarkable difference from those initial dour glances and tossing back of her salt and pepper course hair.
Conversations hadn’t changed much either. Overhearing this one, I couldn’t help but smile.
Nurse (shouting from her chair across the room to Margaret): Have you weeed today?
Margaret: Twice in the night
Nurse: But not today
Margaret: Well I went twice but couldn’t open my bowels
Nurse (relieved, still shouting) so you have weeed.
Margaret (finally) Oh yes, someone took me.
Not one of the best places for safeguarding personal privacy

More to follow...

13th July: au revoir...

I am hoping when I next write this blog that the worst is over, the drain will be gone and my stent will be fitted. I wish I were confident of the outcome, but I will have to be patient. I am always stunned and amazed when folk who comment on this blog see me as patient and as such a positive role model for others experiencing similar.
I consider myself to be one of the most impatient people I know and as a result this has been the toughest challenge of my life to date. Longing to swim in the sea and knowing I have to wait; wanting to live life normally and not being able to fulfil that wish right now; this is really a trial by fire for me. It came out of nowhere and I have had to adjust to so much change in my lifestyle. It is hard to absorb the enormity of it all. I feel like a piece of driftwood now. Where will I land? Will I come away unscathed? Frightening for a control freak to feel that I am no longer at the steering wheel. It is with trepidation that I hand myself over yet again to the medical profession tomorrow….au revoir.

11th July: a date to remember

In 2002 on Thursday 11th July Dad died; on this date in 1974 I married Paul. Well I officially retire today. A very odd feeling indeed. With a bit of luck I should manage to get into school on the last day of term to say goodbye and make proper closure on my career that has spanned 34 years.
Yesterday I managed to arrange transport to Cowes for early Monday morning. The Wessex Cancer Trust volunteers all seem to be on holiday but luckily the co-ordinator gave me another organisation to try and I struck lucky. I phoned the hospital to finalise arrangements. They want me to be there by 10am. It won’t be easy but it should be manageable.
I had a short ride with the Wheelers to Puckpool Park yesterday. On my return Chris took lots of photos for the publicity officer. I am supposed to hold my book. We choose the Marina as our backdrop and quite a few people walk by asking: “Who is she?”. Is this fame? Perhaps but as yet it is well disguised. Of the 60 photos Chris took, we choose the best 20 to put onto a disc. I insist that my varicose veins shouldn’t be publicised, so that discounts quite a few of them!

9th July: The earth moves ...slightly

Quite an exciting day today. The publicity officer interviews me over the phone, about some local and more national coverage for Fifty/50 over the next few weeks.

I receive a positive response from Writing Magazine. I originally completed one of their courses and wrote to tell them of the forthcoming publication. The editor asked me a few questions and they are going to run a piece about me in the September issue published on the 4th of August , possibly with photos.

I contacted Jo the hospital co-ordinator for Southampton. It seems they want me in on Monday the 14th of July with a view to putting in the stent on Tuesday. I will be glad to put all of that behind me. I knew that I would have to take the bull by the horns to make things happen; seems that was worth doing!

8th July: Arghhhh!

More frustrations. I still feel as if I have been left high and dry. I wait for a date to go back to hospital so they can insert the stent. It looks as though I will have to chase it up myself if I have heard nothing in the next couple of days. Not even notification of a scan result; it makes me feel like a non person.

We had problems trying to get some more syringes for the flush. None of the Newport chemists seem to stock them so we went to St Mary’s A&E where they grudgingly parted with half a dozen to keep us going for the next few days. I will have to get them on prescription now, apparently. Nice of them to let me know nearly two months down the line.

Then the GP surgery were unable to find my repeat prescription for more Warfarin. I don’t think this is paranoia on my part, but I am beginning to feel somewhat persecuted by all this. I need to project a primeval scream into the ether. Maybe some therapeutic painting instead…..

6th July; ad nauseam

Not such a great weekend. Yesterday I woke feeling sick and it wasn’t long before I was throwing up. I felt ok afterwards so Chris and I went to the Seaview chemist to return the ‘sharps bin’ which holds the syringes and replace it with another. Every time we do this the chemist gives me a smaller version. This latest one looks like the inner layer of a set of Russian Dolls. I don’t think it will last.

While we were out I began to feel ill again, and we went into a café so I could have a glass of water. I couldn’t even manage a cup of tea. On our return home I just took and anti-sickness pill and went straight to bed where I stayed for 2 hours. I suspect the painkillers had triggered the nausea. Sometimes they do affect me like that. I felt better by around 1pm and got up. It was a lazy afternoon, the only exercise being the virtual sort. We watched the first stage of the Tour de France together!
I am having a go at some local scenes in pastels, though am as yet not well practised. Still the only way to learn is to keep at it!

4th July:

My memoir is now available in Hardback direct from silverwoodbooks.co.uk. If you are a subscriber you can order it using the discount code I emailed to you.

I have finally heard from the TPS about my ill health retirement pension. The official date is the 11th of July, and my pension will be available from that date. I am pleased that I started the process in May. It has taken that long to organise.

Today I receive a letter from the Head teacher of Carisbrooke. She writes:

Dear Lin
Oh how we have missed you. The work that you do is often hidden. The real impact is only revealed by reflection. How many of your colleagues have said: "I used to dread that lesson with Fred and Frieda but look at the work that they are doing now". Or, "That Year 10 set used to be really hard work but after lin talked me through some techniques it made such a difference"

What you have done in the school has really improved the working day for many of your colleagues and truly turned round the life chances for many students whose prospects before they met you were, at best, awful.

It still feels strange that I am not returning. I am hoping to go in for the last day of term (if I'm not in hospital) so that I can say a proper goodbye and bring closure to so many years at the High School.

July 3rd:Appuldurcombe

We went with the Bembridge Wheelers to Appledurcombe. It was a lovely bright breezy day. As Chris had no picnic with him and we were all desperate for a drink, we went into the shop to ask about the café. We were taken aback by the off-hand attitude of the staff.
“Well there is a display on at the moment, so you can’t go through to the café. You will have to wait until 2pm when the display is finished. Anyway we had a rush at lunch time and I haven’t any more cups.”
Though we promised not to peek we were forbidden entry. We find it difficult to understand how they could hide the café away in such a ridiculous place and run a business that tries so hard to turn trade away from their door. Aren’t cafes supposed to have a goodly stock of cups and saucers? The mind boggles. After the picnic we decided to take our custom elsewhere.

The day was not without mishap. I managed the second puncture of the day as we left for Wroxall. Fortunately Chris was there to repair it. We were made very welcome in Wroxall at the Worsley Arms. Aside from a parasol that took off in the wind with a superb Mary Poppins imitation, we enjoyed a peaceful coffee and cake at a reasonable price. Dave entertained us with his ‘rabbit’ a hand puppet that appeared to devour salad and squeak all at the same time.

Chris led us back along the cliff path from where we had spectacular views of vivid blue sea and miles of quiet clean beaches. Margaret and I were chatting about a Treasure Hunt she is planning when we saw a small drama unfold before our eyes. Irene seemed to fling herself and her bike into Dave’s handle bars; it all looked as though it were happening in slow motion. Luckily only pride was dented; Irene’s because she had lost her balance; Dave’s because a young blond woman had flung herself at him and nothing had happened.

1st July

Chris is walking about with his head in the clouds now that Fifty/50 has been published. He wanders around the house muttering:

“I see a film. When they ask for the rights will you agree? Who would you like to play your character?” He firmly believes that if he puts the book on Ebay someone will buy it. I have tried to explain:

“Look, no one is going to do a search for a book they’ve never heard of for the privilege of buying it at full price.”

He is not convinced. “They will do a general search”…
“oh yes which will yield at least 50, 000 hits.”
Now he has ‘Googled’ me and found the book on a Scandinavian site called Akademika – alt av fagbøker. He thinks this is the start of something big. I wish I shared his optimism. It is comforting to know he has faith in me.