Well, that was a very 2020-ish sort of week.
Oh, for those heady days of innocence, way back when nobody would have understood what the above sentence meant. Right now, you probably wouldn’t even be surprised if I told you that the neighbourhood had been invaded by hordes of opera-singing purple mega-ants, or that a sinkhole had opened up under Twisted Towers and had swallowed all of my yarn. Fortunately neither of these things has happened… although given that it’s 2020 I should probably say that neither of these things has happened YET.
What has happened is the culmination of a couple of nasties that have been brewing for a while. Thing one is that this week, at the ripe old young age of 47, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Do you have ANY IDEA how hard it is to crochet a breast tumour in order to illustrate this post?! I mean, viruses and bacteria look cute and quirky under the microscope, but breast cancers just look like BLOBS. This is the best I could do. It’s not very good:-
If the universe had bothered to give me a questionnaire asking whether I actually wanted a bunch of mutant cells to have a party in my right breast, I would of course have ticked the ‘NO’ box very firmly indeed. But I wasn’t consulted, so I’ll just have to make the best of things. At least it’ll provide a plausible excuse for lounging on the sofa, sighing melodramatically, and knitting, during the months ahead. (WHADDYA MEAN, “THAT’S ALL I EVER SEEM TO DO ANYWAY”?!) No matter what happens, I’ll still be here, knitting and blogging and chattering with you lovely lot. I’ve got further tests next week, and the results will determine whether treatment will be very un-fun, or very very very un-fun. Fingers crossed…
And if there’s any comic potential to be had from the situation, then rest assured that I will find it and I will drag it outside and I will flog it mercilessly until I’ve extracted every last drop of humour for the purposes of this blog. I can’t help it: that’s just how I’m wired. When things get tricky, my inclination is to make a joke. I should probably see a psychologist about that. Oh wait…
There’ll still be new knitting to show you. Plenty of knitting. I’m very worried about how treatment will affect my running, though. Running has been the saviour of my physical and mental health in these recent perimenopausal years, and I’d really like to keep lolloping across the Oxfordshire countryside. I’d even love to do another marathon.
But for now, I’m fine, the Stoic Spouse is fine, and most importantly, the twinnage know an age-appropriate amount about what’s going on and they seem to be fine so far. Hopefully the cancer will prove to be not too aggressive… although I think I might have just heard it growl. I’m worried about my patients at work, but I’ll use my last few pre-surgery weeks to try and organize things in the best way possible for their benefit.
And I’ll just have to hope that no opera-singing purple mega-ants show up around here, because I really DO NOT HAVE THE ENERGY to deal with those right now.
As for the other tricky thing that’s happening, I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say publicly quite yet. But I’ll risk saying this: the publisher that commissioned the book on stranded knitting that I’m writing is… um… having a tiny weeny bit of a bankruptcy problem at the moment – or at least, the company that owns the publisher is. So it’s likely that I’ll have to find a new home for my half-done book. I hate to think how many hard-working people are facing redundancy because of this. And I hate to think about what a rubbish time this is for them to be out of work.
2020, eh? What a year!
But let me tell you, there’s nothing like a three-inch-tall bossy-boots tapping on the window to help keep things in perspective. Sinkholes, cancer, bankruptcy, opera-singing ants, none of it matters a jot, as long as Robyn-the-robin gets her breakfast on time. She’s got life sussed, that bird, I tell ya.
Until next time, my fine fibrous friends.
Phil x
M-R says
Oh jesus.
This can’t be happening.
Phil, dear Phil .. I don’t have words to express my utter dismay. I suspect you to be aware that those following you will all be utterly, utterly appalled and horrified by your news.
We love you, Phil; for the joy and humour— for everything you bring into our lives. Your influence is great, and benign.
It seems that what’s going on in your right breast is not.
I won’t say I send my thoughts and prayers, because I don’t believe in god.
And you are one of the reasons why not.
The Twisted Yarn says
Gosh, it scarcely seems adequate to say ‘thank you’ for this response, because I’m humbled by the sheer quantity of warmth and kindness radiating from your words. But I don’t know what else to say, except thank you. I appreciate your words. I appreciate them very much. Everything is going to be OK, because the staff at our local hospital in Oxford are skilled and compassionate and wise. You most certainly are not getting rid of me yet! Sending love and warmth to you, familiar and appreciated reader. Px
M-R says
Just as well. I was thinking of topping meself if you were unwell for so long that there was no more Twisted Yarn! XO
Sharon Marson says
Please take care of yourself and hope your treatment goes as well as it possible can!
The Twisted Yarn says
Thank you! Px
Juanita says
Dear Phil, I’m so sorry to read that you have breast cancer, if the world isn’t a scary enough place at the moment… I’m a pretty scatty person but at times like this I look at the hard evidence – you are young, you are very fit and you’ve got an amazingly positive attitude to life therefore you WILL get through this. Not sure about the purple ants though… please take care darling girl xxx
TodayWendy says
I love your attitude – it is the one I always aim for and often miss. Best of luck with the treatment and I look forward to the black humour.
I also love that shark. I’ve only seen in a couple times, but it is one of those things that makes me feel like the world is a wonderful place.
gimpywalker says
Attitude is all…at least 99.9%. You seem to have a great one!!! Thinking of you in Canada
sarahn43 says
That’s a bit of a gig! But, I expect you will rock it! Your positivity and humour … great medicine. Wishing you all the best for the days ahead with Robyn by your side …. nudging you on. xxx
Jenna says
So sorry to learn about your diagnosis! I greatly appreciate your perspective. And your posts. Keep ’em coming! An idea: a recumbent or crank-forward bike on a stationary bike stand and a video or window with a view to “ride through the woods” during recuperation?
Wishing you all the best.
Julie says
Laughter really is the best medicine. I understand your instinct to make jokes in / against adversity. My brother does it, my Dad did it and I do it. It’s a massively useful tool in your coping box, along with yarn, the pins and dear Robyn. I hope you have someone who you can tell your least tasteful jokes to who will understand and enjoy them. Best of all if they can come back at you with more.
Hugs and good luck. We are with you all the way. X
Diane says
I have a five pound cat who is just like R-t-r. Susie Belle has the house schedule memorized, so when one of her people or her cats is late, in the wrong place, doing something bad…she’s right at my side, chirping at me. After 9 years together, I just ask her, “What do you need? Show me.” and she takes me to the empty food bowl, the bedroom where the light needs to be turned on or the yarn room where a cat is in her spot. Tiny dictators.
I appreciate your humor. It’ a life lesson germane to all life these days. Godspeed.
Robin Gherasim says
Hi there. I’m Robin from Cape Town, South Africa, and have been enjoying your blog for the past few months so much that I hope I can continue to enjoy them for YEARS to come. You don’t need to believe in God (or god) to pray for someone. You will definitely be in my thoughts and prayers as you face this new challenge in your life. Take care of yourself – you are very precious!
Robin Gherasim says
My husband has lit a candle and incense stick for you and says God bless you. ????️❤️
Noëlla says
My grandmother, born in 1891, believed in God. But I don’t. Nevertheless I remember her telling me, way back in the early 1960’s “You know what the greatest strength God gave to us humans? It was the gift of laughter.” I argued that I thought strength was in big muscles. Or things like lots of fame and money. She said “Nope. Have you ever been afraid when you laughed?” Ummm, no… “Have you ever been deeply sad and crying while you laughed?” Err…no, again. “What about raging angry and laughing at the same time?” …Once again, nope. “Well, there you go. If it is impossible to be afraid and laugh at the same time, and impossible to be depressed and laugh at the same time, and impossible to be angry and laugh at the same time, the only thing left to feel, is strong.” She would have understood exactly why you turn to jokes in times of trouble. If you run out of laughter, I’m going to count on little Robyn to at least make you smile. Because I don’t think anyone could look at her, and simultaneously feel afraid, sad or angry. Wishing you lots and lots of strength, from Canada….
Noëlla says
My grandmother, born in 1891, believed in God. But I don’t. Nevertheless I remember her telling me, way back in the early 1960’s “You know what the greatest strength God gave to us humans? It was the gift of laughter.” I argued that I thought strength was in big muscles. Or things like lots of fame and money. She said “Nope. Have you ever been afraid when you laughed?” Ummm, no… “Have you ever been deeply sad and crying while you laughed?” Err…no, again. “What about raging angry and laughing at the same time?” …Once again, nope. “Well, there you go. If it is impossible to be afraid and laugh at the same time, and impossible to be depressed and laugh at the same time, and impossible to be angry and laugh at the same time, the only thing left to feel, is strong.” She would have understood exactly why you turn to jokes in times of trouble. If you run out of laughter, I’m going to count on little Robyn to at least make you smile. Because I don’t think anyone could look at her, and simultaneously feel afraid, sad or angry. Wishing you lots and lots of strength, from Canada….
Lisa Haughton says
I love reading your blog and looking at the lovely photos of your garden, your knitting and Robyn. I’m so sorry to read this news, I’m sending love and hugs from Ireland and very best wishes for the treatment ahead, to you and your family. In the cyber world it’s easy to be flippant, but I hope you will take strength from all the good wishes coming your way. Sending a big cuddly blanket to snuggle in when you need it, and a cool breeze with ice cubes when you don’t. Thank you for your writing, it has helped me in dark days. ❤
Sheila Brady says
2020 will end eventually. At least I hope so. Humor is a great coping mechanism, and it covers a multitude of situations – cancer, bankruptcy, knitting….sending positive thoughts your way!
Twink Lester says
Ah, sweet Phil. I’m sad to hear your news. This has been a hell of a year. Be very good to yourself and let others wait on you hand and foot.
We will all keep up with you and because I don’t believe in God, either, I’ll just send you healing and happy thoughts. Love, Twink
Carolyn wood says
Soo sorry to hear your news. Be strong and keep positive! I love your column and you are so talented. Thinking of you from N.Z.xx
Bobbie Jean says
There’s no way I can “like” this post but do want you to know I’m praying and hoping and thinking of you. I remember having a third of my right breast removed with my young daughter in the waiting room. It was just the two of us by then, but knowing she needed me is what got me through the trauma and pain. And here I am.
What can we do to help you through all the unknowns? I’d like to send you something special. I live in Texas, yet the only thing that separates us is an unknown mail address.
Take good care of yourself. And don’t forget to feed Robyn.
Be well.
Kathy says
I will cross my fingers also. I hope, with all your wonderfully good humour that your tests show that the tumour is small (if not cute) and is happy to leave you easily. And I’m sure you will find a good home for your book.
Wishing the best outcomes for you,
Kathy
Mimi says
I am shocked and sad to read about your health challenge but with your positive attitude and strength and your loving family you will beat the crap out of this.
Anita says
I’ve never commented on one of your blog posts before now, although they have been entertaining me for a while. Moved to write because I have been where you are now and can empathise with your situation. I had the whole kit and caboodle: mastectomy, chemo and radiotherapy and, three years since diagnosis, I’m still here. You will be too. Keep running as long as you possibly can, my daily dog walks kept me sane – I went out even when I needed to hang on to my son to get me round the woods. I am not far from you and know the Churchill well, it is a great hospital and they will look after you well.
Feeling sad that you have to go through this.
captelaine says
There is a saying that there are many things that cancer cannot do. It cannot cripple love, shatter hope, kill friendship, erode the spirit, take away faith, silence courage, destroy peace, suppress memories, or conquer the soul …
Someone shared this with me before my cancer surgery … which was 16 years ago, my best friend from high school so BFF for over 50 years had her cancer surgery 3 years ago… she is doing fine today. You can BEAT this Phil…
Grandma Flea says
Dear Phil,
Thank you for sharing your news with us – it is much better to talk about it than to silently brood. i had breast cancer some years ago, and for me, the hardest part was the waiting between the initial diagnosis and the treatment. We are lucky that we live in this age – diagnoses and treatments get better every year. The best advice I can give you is to take all the help that your family and friends will offer you – it is amazing how people want to help and the casserole that appears at your front door, or the offer to do some ironing or some shopping will make life easier for you..
Best wishes to you for a speedy recovery.
Nadja says
Sending love to you and your family ( not to the ugly cells in your right breast though)
Sue says
Is it ok to say, “What she said!”?
After reading the wonderful words others have written, my comment feels very small, but I’m adding Giant Hugs and a shoulder whenever you need it.
Love and caring from across the sea to you, Sweetie! You have brought so much sparkle to so many, feel free to soak us all up now!
Barbara H. says
This is news none of us expect. I won’t go into detail (you have your own details on your diagnosis) but I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1992 and 1999 (yes, that long ago) and today I am just fine and getting my mammogram every year. I wish you a very good outcome…treatments are so much more advanced today.
Tineke says
Oh darn Phil, darn, I had the diagnose of cancer last year. We’re going to beat the odds, dear. Besides, I can’t leave those kids alone, I promised myself to see all happening in their life. Who’s going to feed your R the R, my fluffy boys and my chicken. You and I are going to see the kids grow older and wiser, promise and deal. Hugs ;>*
Ann-Marie Gallagher says
I hope the opera-singing purple mutant mega ants put on a good show for you at least! Best wishes, good cheer and many friends to you x
familyrulesbyplainjane says
I am very sorry to learn you have cancer. I am glad you are talking about it. Keep talking and knitting, please. I know we readers do care and will want to know and send supportive words and prayers. Plus, you are funny and we will miss you if you don’t!
Nan says
In addition to all of the above: Hope you can skip any fretting about picture quality, etc. You know we all love The Twisted Yarn just the way it is, whatever way it is, meaning that the way it is is just fine. Just the same as we love you.
pomegranateandchintz says
Phil, I’m so sorry to hear of your news. You’re the third of my friends (blogging types and others) to be diagnosed during 2020 – how can this year get any worse? Please take extra special care of yourself and my thoughts and prayers are with you. Fingers crossed for the “good” variety.
Michelle says
So sorry for your diagnosis – I had mine 14 years ago, and I found I run much better boobless. My daughter’s and I had a Goodbye to Boobs party the night before surgery. You can make a lovely cake if you have a heart shaped pan and turn it upside down, lol. I think attitude is absolutely the deciding factor – you can do this! I’ll keep you in my prayers, and look forward to hearing where you find the humor even in this.
Nicola says
Phil, I am shocked at your news but admire your humour in all situations. I wish you the fortitude and optimism to kick that cancer out. Love from me, in Canada.
Sally says
Dear Phil so sorry to hear this news xx huge hugs to you, mr Phil and the twinnage
Lynn says
I’m so sad to read your news. Breast cancer is a scary diagnosis but it’s not as scary as it used to be. I’m sure you are in the best of hands and you not only will get through the treatments but will thrive. Your humor and strength plus family and friends will be your support. Cancer sucks! But you will fight like the woman you are and emerge victorious on the other side! I will be keeping you in my thoughts and sending you strength, health and healing.
Teresa Rastoskey says
Once upon a time this week in a castle across the Pond the Queen of Twited Towers heard the words “breast cancer”. Joining the Queen in her tower is the Prince Consort and an heir and a spare. She rules the tower and its many feathed, furry and scaly subjects. The Queen had been valiantly fighting off a virus that dominated the air. So focused on her family and job and her skills of knitting she never noticed the evil dragon (we are not talking sparkly and cute dragon, we are talking really ugly) that quietly snuck into the Twisted Tower. She gets out of her sense of humor and positive attitude and of course her very long and sharp knitting needles to keep the dragon at bay, Armed with love of the Twisted family and best wishes, prayers and thoughts of her friends in many kingdoms both near and far and her fierce desire to purge the Tower she uses science and medicine and her running shoes to thwart the evil dragon. To beat the dragon at last she puts on her running shoes and challenges him to a marathon.
Phil, please remember that your loyal internet family does not need to only hear sunny words. As women we all are very aware of breast cancer and empathize with you. Give us the ugly, we can take it. Let us give you a chuckle.
Teresa in Michigan USA
Celeste says
Oh no, not cancer AND a problem with the book in the same week! That is just not fair. I echo everything other people have already said and add my prayers and warm wishes too. I’m confident you will find your way through all of this. Your attitude and sense of humor will see you through – and inspire many other folks along the way.
stitchingshadowpam, Australia says
So sorry to hear about your world being rocked so badly. Best wishes for a smooth and uneventful path ahead.
Denise Fordyce says
I just want a refund on 2020. In no way does it do what it says on the tin. As the spouse of a (oesophagus) cancer survivor, yes of course I send you my best but your spouse is really in my thoughts. The surgeon who diagnosed my husband said to him “You’ve got the easy job, you just have to lie there and get better” then he said to me “You’ve got the hard job: you have to hold everything together, including the family”. It’s tough. All the best to you all.
Faye Maplestone says
Dear “twisted, thank you for the smiles and giggles, and wonderful photography . It made this 2020 much brighter. I feel like I should send you the face mask, my daughter gave me….it’s not printable,**** but would suit your predicament well. But. …You are too much of a lady for that……?
I’m positive you will sail through this hiccup with style , as always. We are all wishing you well with kicking it in the proverbial. Keep that sense of humour going…Tis the best weapon I know. Lots of love and best wishes from Down under. Faye
Naomi Starkey says
Please know I am sending you hugs and prayers.
daisy says
dear Phil,
so sorry about the news ..
i have added you to my daily prayer list…
please take extra care of yourself …
you are greatly valued by the knitting community.
best regards,
daisy
Sally says
I’m thinking of you; there isn’t a lot I can say, and I know about this only too well as I was diagnosed with cancer at the beginning of April. All I can say is let yourself cry and laugh, do what you need to do to get through. Your blog posts are one of the things that I’ve looked forward to, and have kept me going (along with Marina Hyde, Randy Rainbow, John Crace etc!). Hoping for the very best for you xx
Mary Barbaro says
Dear Phil: I love your blog and have read it many times. Your beautiful attitude and sense of humor are indeed enviable. As one who is overwhelmed at times with the “little things” I admire your courage and common sense. How lucky we are to have our knitting to concentrate on when things go awry. I am very old and have knitted my way through most of the 92 years I’ve lived. I, too, have a prayer list and you are on it now.
From a fellow knitter, Mary—-Concord MA. USA
Tanya says
I’m very sorry for the news.Wishing you the best outcome. Love your blog and Instagram posts.
E says
I’ve only just found your blog, but I enjoy your humor, your writing, your observations… please know that there is now a cosmic pool of socially-distanced virtual gentle hugs out there to draw on if or when you need them. And yeah, 2020… those opera-singing mega-ants would fit in right about now.
Lou Mitchell says
All the very best to you and your tribe Phil. I love your blog missives they never fail to raise a smile. Keep on running as long as you can – doesn’t matter if they get a bit short and slow for a while! I’m looking forwards to your humour and insights into being a patient yourself (often a challenging and very wierd thing when you look after people for a living I’ve found!)
yarnandpencil says
❤
Alex Kiernan says
Good luck. I’m emerging from the other end of the whole breast cancer business and can only say it’s quite a process, esp during lockdown. But there’s lots of support out there for you and your family. My offspring (just a little older than your twinnage) got lots of age appropriate info and were mostly scientifically interested rather than scared. MacMillan is fantastic.
You will get better – sending lots of support your way. Just get rid of that annoying bump (like the crochet version. I called my unwanted nasty Boris and was very glad when he was evicted) and then get on with recovery.
Diana Kobler says
My dear Phil, from now on everything will be going only upwards, I promise!!!!
Sandra Houghton says
Dear Phil
I hope the inspiration your blog gives to other people turns itself inside out to help you through this.
Your blog and photos have often made 2020 bearable in ways I guess you understand.
I save quotes and sayings (sadly I’m not as good at saving money ????) and turn to them often for help and inspiration, one of my favourites is “When your life is full of muddles sometimes it helps to stamp in puddles” so get your wellies on and do some stamping, believe me it helps and it’s so much fun!!!!!!
Take care and please keep us entertained.
Grasan