Ok so it is time to let the cat out of the bag. This blog has been silent for some weeks and I have missed not visiting my own site.

These past three weeks have been rather difficult. It all started a couple of months ago when I discovered a lump in my breast. But being the person that I am, I tried to ignore it, thinking that it will go away. But it didn’t. It was always at the back of my mind so a month ago I made an appointment with my GP to have a look at it.

Well to cut a long story short, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. After the initial shock, I was booked in for an op in Mater Dei the following week. Alot has been written about this hospital and alot has been said for or against the people who work there, but I must say that my short experience in S3 was very comfortable, and everyone made a big fuss of me. The nurses are the most dedicated I have ever met, the docs (apart from being good lookers….sigh!)  were also the most helpful and they did a brilliant job. The people of the Breast Care clinic were really really great and even helped me come to terms with the worst scenario. Shirley is the woman. She is brilliant. She held my hand, watched me cry and heard my rants and raves against this horrid horrid world. After that I felt much better.

The op went well, and just to put everyone’s mind at rest, my cleavage is still there….tee hee. Now I need to face Chimo, radio therapy and pills. It is not going to be an easy journey, but those who know me keep telling me that I will bounce back. I have already returned to work for a couple of days, but will be going for some well deserved R&R to Gozo end of this week.

When something horrid as this happens to you, you realise who your real friends are. I have had some ’so called friends’ disappear on the horizon, without even a by your leave. I wonder if its because they cannot handle it or what….. But on the whole all my ‘real’ friends rallied around me, and I have found huge support from them.

As I said in the previous blog, this is not a goodbye. I will not be around as often as I would like, but I will keep you posted on my long road to recovery.

Please bear with me. I will be out of action for the next few days, maybe even weeks. Prayers from all religious denominations are solicited.

I will be back.

*waves to the people from the ‘bebo’ area.*

This post has long been overdue, but a busy work schedule plus the heat, are not conducive to any kind of creativity. The only two activities which I have been keenly keeping are my afternoon siestas and reading books.

In fact one of my colleagues has initiated me in the works of one Barbara Trapido and her Whitbread prize book ‘Brother of the more famous Jack’, and ‘Temples of Delight’. The books made good light reading over the weekend, which was good, as I did not have too much energy to do much housework.

Saturday saw me going out with ‘the gals’ to this beautiful restaurant in Birgu. Ok I swore a little as the long walk on high heels was not greatly appreciated, but once I got to the restaurant, I found that it was worth the hassle. The ambience alone was worth a million dollars in my opinion. The food was also of good quality and went down a treat. Don’t exactly remember the name of the eatery, but its the one just underneath the bastion, where there is a little creek. It’s at the very end of the Birgu waterfront. The company was, as always excellent, having two lawyers in the house regale us with their version of the law. There was also alot of ‘love’ in the air, in keeping with the theme of the moment. The ‘agronomist’ of the group gave us a spiel on the poor state of maltese soil, whilst the ‘marraige licence provider’ grumbled about why it is always mad dogs and English men who get married in the midday sun. The ’secretary’ tried her hardest to behave herself by not laughing too loudly. Needless to say, she failed utterly.

Now for something more serious. Of late I have taken to buying the Indy on Sunday, so as to read j’accuse’s article, being that I hate reading on the computer. I must say that I did not understand one inch of last Sunday’s contribution. I must be thick. But an article written by DCG caught my eye. I agree with most of what she had to say, but on the other hand I believe that she missed out on a few points. What DCG does not consider is, that most of those women who end up having ‘accidental’ pregnancies, don’t always have a backup, either from their partner or their immediate family. Unfortunately, after trying for a few months or maybe a year, the poor child is placed into care. Ok, fair enough at this point. Maybe the mother needs a breather, space to regain her feet, and to construct a better life for herself and her child. But what about those ‘mothers’ (let’s call them that for want of another word) who get pregnant by their partner, and then dump their child in residential care. People such as these usually have huge personal problems of their own, and are incapable of taking care of themselves let alone the child they have brought into this world. Unfortunately these ‘unwanted’ children are left in a residential home, without any hope of them being adopted or fostered. It is a sad sad situation.  For reasons known only to themselves, these ‘mothers’ refuse to give up their parental life thus giving their child the chance of a better future. And this is relevant not just for the one child, but for all the subsequent siblings there might be. The poor children are usually rejected not just by the mother but also by their immediate family. So let’s not put all single mothers in one pot. There are some, who in my opinion, do not deserve even to have children in the first place.

I will not be a bigot and say that all single mothers should be stoned or socially ostracised just because they are single and happened to fall pregnant. But as in all walks of life, ALL choices should be available, and this also includes the legalising of abortion if necessary.

You know who you are. Keep away from this blog. I refuse to delete it because of you, but I know you are visiting. Keep away from here. There is nothing that interests you over here.

I have two drafts hanging around in my box, but for some reason none of them seem relevant anymore. The first was about the Eurovision, which came and went without too much fuss. The only update to that is that the Malta song festival board or whatever it was called, will not be constituted again. Hurrah for that. It is about time that the real talent of Malta is channelled into other possibilities. Why not bring Pop Idol to Malta? Or X Factor? Why not offer the winners a contract with a decent record company, with a decent amount of air hours thrown in on some major English/American radio  station? Now that is the stuff I would be supporting, if it ever happens.

Then I wrote about that case which was all over the papers and even attracted DCG’s attention, about that transexual who had a gender change but was not allowed to get married, even if the annotation on her (his?) birth certifcate showed that now she was a female. Just before I get some high flying lawyer quoting the marriage act to me or slamming  the Constitutional Code at me, I must say that this is my own personal and humble opinion. I believe that this couple should have been given the right to get married. They are two consenting adults, and I am sure that the ‘male’ in this partnreshipknows all the story and exactly what he will be getting. So why should the director of public registry oppose the idea? Where is the liberty of choice? I still have to find someone who points out to me somewhere in the law or the constitution whereby, the terms Male and Female, or Man and Woman are defined. But I believe that DCG exhausted all the arguments, and my post would be rather superfluous.

But the subject that is doing the round of most blogs, is yesterday’s election for Labour’s new leader. The mind boggles how it had to take six hours to count a little less than 900 votes. But then, I keep forgetting the last general election….. This morning I woke up and tuned into TVM as they were the first with the 7 o’clock news. So whilst I was deciding what to wear for work, I heard that ‘the poodle’ had nearly made a clean run for the leadership. I could not decide whether this gave me immense joy or not. So I started singing to see how it is all going to fit in with the slogans that are sung during a mass meeting.

It went something like this.

Ghax ahna ghandha il-Joseph/Poodle (delete where applicable)

Ahna maghqudin.

Ghax ahna ghandha l-Joseph/Poodle (delete where applicable)

Ahna maghqudin…

U maghqudin, ghax ghandna l-Joseph/Poodle (delete where applicable) maghna!

Ahna Maghqudin!!!!

Now repeat the same using the name George, and decide which one sounds better. I thought that the Joseph/Poodle version sounded better. But there again, this is just a song.

In the meantime, I will have to endure a whole evening of Xarabank and hours of speculation of what if and what buts and how and when ect ect and so forth. i think my remote control will be kept rather busy tonight as I zap around from one station to another, trying my best to avoid hitting 02 or 29 or 33.

Or maybe I will find someone intersting to chat to on MSN…… lol

Yesterday was Gap Day for the office. All members of staff congregated in Buskett for a day of fun and games. Considering that tensions have been running high lately, this day was a welcome break to the normal routine and work.

The day was glorious, and for once, Buskett was rid of illegal hunters. So there was absolutely no danger of being hit with pallets or otherwise. The day started with a track around all the off beat tracks of Buskett which was quite strenuous but lovely. The idea was to find certain landmarks and answer set questions. The problem was that when counting stairs, where exactly do you start or finish counting? From the ‘natural’ one, or the man made one? Various discussion ensued, with the research analyst in the group giving us various theories on the probability that the ‘natural’ step had to be included. The administrator was a bit worried about penetrating some high grass, whilst the electrian was quite sure that the stream flowed down and not up……..The secretary on the other hand, made a mess of counting iron pillars and got the number down to 2 whilst the correct answer was supposed to be 39. Counting was never considered her forte….. She did better in the communications exercise, as it brought out all her acting skills. So at least she found out that she had one asset at least….

Then there was the transferring of the ball from one cone to another further away, using ropes. Here our newest additon proved to be a very good and sublte cheater, as her hands moved swiftly and unobtrusively to ensure that the ball remained on the straight and narrow of the ropes. These were handled expertly by our communicator and the secretary who made sure that all incriminating evidence was swept under the carpet.

The boss was sussed out for cheating a little, in the walking the plank game. He denied all charges, but the facts remain that he was spotted moving a barrel to make the distance shorter for his team. But considering that he was the one who came up with the idea for this day in the first place, he was duly forgiven.

The driver was spotted buzzing around our legal officer, who was sweetly decked out in a pink top. (Not from New York or Rome, she pointed out).

But the highlight of the day was our Board Secretary who was wearing a lovely tight pair of grey three quarters ski pants with a short green top. You must have a figure to die off to carry this off. And she has it. *bangs head on keyboard*. Everyone, both male and female, couldn’t stop drooling at the curves and figure she posses. The females maybe concentrated more on the ‘green’ shade of things. But they still drooled.

Anyway. A good day was had by all. Bring on the next one.

I am not a Chelsea or Man Utd fan but this pic tickled me pink!

I came up with this subject after being directed from Toni Sant’s blog to Il-Mannocca where Russell Muscat writes about the latest run for leadership within the labour party.

Yesterday I was invited to a lecture given by Dr.Paul Bartolo at the Eden Foundation about Sexuality. Now this was obviously addressed to parents who have adoloscent disabled children all with different levels of disability but all sharing the same preoccupations. Dr.Bartolo addressed the need for the parents to teach these adolescents about  what is happening to their bodies, and not to be frightened with the different changes that are happening to them.According to him, it was very important for these youngsters to be given an explanation, as most of the time they are probably worried about it themselves, and this would hopefully put their mind at rest.

Unfortunately during the talk, certain questions arose from the floor, which left me thinking about how sex is still a taboo topic within maltese society. Some parents said that they would rather not tell them anything as this would maybe encourage them to ‘explore’ more. Being that these children are mainly mentally disabled, gives more sense to this comment. But having said that, wouldn’t it be better if this is just treated as a natural occurence and let things go with the flow? These children deserve their privacy. All they need is  to be taught more than ‘normal’ children, how to control their urges. Also some parents said that they felt uncomfortable talking about these things with their ‘normal’ children, let alone with the sibling who  does not understand ‘innuendos’.

Sex amongst disabled adolescents and adults might seem ‘disgusting’ to most people in general, but it is a reality which has to be faced. The parents of such children would rather they didn’t have to deal with such a situation, but they have to. It is hard, but they have to. Unfortunately, because the child is ‘disabled’ this might become a public issue, being that these adolescents might show untoward attention to their peers which is not always wanted. People might even look upon them with disgust making the parents of the disabled child feel as if they are out of control of the situation, and that somewhere, somehow, they have done something wrong.

Unfortunately this is the feeling that most parents of disabled children have to live with. This feeling of incompetance and guilt, riddled with the nasty remarks and snide comments made by society at large.

And having said that, tomorrow is Gap Day for our office. The whole Department is off to Buskett for a bit of team building. A post about this event will follow, if I can manage to get myself to the computer after what is going to be a gruelling day for someone who hates exercise in any form or shape…..

Another Monday, another week. Apart from Inter winning the Scudetto and reading a couple of blog entries which contain a massive dose of sour grapes, there is nothing really special happening.

It seems that after the elections, the tension that hit our island a couple of months ago, has slowly receded and gone back to the dull, indifferent attitude that tends to be the norm. Except for the odd entry of illegal immigrants which come our way when the South Winds from Libya hits, nothing is newsworthy anymore. It seems that all people are talking about is the election of the next labour party leader, exams, and the comming of summer. Which, let’s face it, only the first issue is slightly out of the ordinary. The rest come every year. So it is back to the old grindstone of indifference and routine.

All that remains is to fade away into the sunset, filled with the hazy glare of dust and sand.