Singing in the dead of night.

I've hummed and hawed for almost 2 weeks about how to write this post. How much to include. Should I write it at all. But at the end of the day this is my blog and I want to record this. So here goes.

This is my Beloved Wee granny. She will be 90 in April and she has terminal breast cancer.

 I mean, she's had it for 2 years (after kicking its arse 20 years ago) and it's only definitely terminal because they can't operate - her age and dicky heart both going against her. We've kinda been hoping that the various drugs would keep it at bay long enough for something else to kill her - you know, the dodgy heart or just nice and simple old age. Something non-painful. But just after Christmas she confessed her lump had gone a bit mental in the growth department and her specialist doctor chap sent her to the oncologist to see if he had any brainwaves. Radiotherapy was mentioned (yikes - that's a lot of travelling and long days from where we live) and a drug change. There's not much else they can do. My poor wee mum is a bit stressed about ....well, about everything just now. I worry more about her than Granny, if I'm totally honest.

Well, she saw the oncologist today. And the radiotherapy has been postponed slightly because the lump appears to have shrunk. They've not changed her drug yet. *blinks* Who knows what is going on there. She will say the power of prayer, I haven't a damn clue. But "Yay!" for whatever respite she gets given, right? So all fingers are crossed that the new drug will work its mutant-cell-bazookaing-wonderness and zap it even further. Negating totally the need for the therapy while making her more comfortable.

She obviously knew about the lump growth before Christmas and we all (the whole family) got a big swadge of cash each for our Christmas from her and Papa. I don't think I need to spell out her reasoning behind that, do I? I wanted to buy something meaningful and not (I can't believe I'm going to say this) fritter it away on trainers, hoodies and slogan tee shirts. And then Jo posted a link on Facebook to this jeweller and silversmith.

Her online catalogue is full of pretty little bits and pieces. But what really caught my eye was a blackbird on a nest pendant. One of Granny's favourite songs is the Beatles "Blackbird" - we used to sing it together when I was a teen - so it immediately struck a chord. But then I saw this chap.

 My Mum loves pearls, Granny loves daisies and my wee Chookie bird's favourite colour is turquoise. Is perfect, no?

I kinda failed on my first few attempts at photos. This one made me giggle, though. The parcel arrived one lunchtime when I'd run in from work and I totally match it. You can't see but even my specs are sea green.

So, here's to the power of prayer, wonder drugs, silver jewellery, the Beatles and precious old ladies. You know if my Mum reaches her age (please and thank you mister universe) I'll be 72. Heh. And fingers crossed for the next 8 weeks!