A time to heal...

I haven't blogged for a few months. To be honest I've been  too raw. 

The last time I posted on here, things were looking great. One of my latest films had garnered BFI Network support, and we were just about to go on holiday to Crete for a family wedding. The future seemed rosy...

But like all things in life, there were events lurking around the corner - things I wasn't yet aware of. One of them was that my beloved Rottweiler had terminal cancer. 

She'd had a limp for a few weeks before I had it investigated. Earlier in the year she'd tripped over her own paws when chasing a squirrel, and had limped for a week or so. Second time around, I assumed the previous injury had flared up, even though I hadn't witnessed her doing anything to cause it. 

But the x-ray told a different story. There was a huge tumour on her left shoulder and shadows in her lungs, indicating that the cancer had already metastasised. My shock and horror on hearing this was profound. I couldn't believe that my sweet dog was so bravely and uncomplainingly suffering through this horrific disease. 

The vet was right when she said the particular type of cancer she had was aggressive - within the week we were making another visit to the vet's to give Roxie a dignified end to her life. I held her and comforted her,  and knew that she had loved me just as enormously as I had loved her.  

We entered a period of grieving. I couldn't look at her beds, her toys and bowls... but I couldn't get rid of them either. To have lost my dad and both dogs within just less than 18 months, seemed too cruel. 

I came through the front door and there was no lolling tongue, no wagging tail to greet me. Just silence and too-clean floors. 

I came to hate the way the floors stayed clean when I vacuumed; to be repelled by the echoing silence in the kitchen when I entered first thing in the morning; to be heartbroken that I no longer got to kiss her goodnight before I headed up to bed. My heart was broken. 

And then something happened. 

I decided to foster. Not to adopt, but to take on and try to heal a dog that was as broken as me, one whose spirit had been crushed by the sheer force of its former bad luck. 

So I contacted a rescue centre. After the home check, I explained that I would take the dog that cowered in the corner of its kennel, the dog that would greet no-one, the one that no-one wanted because it was just too broken...

They gave me Beauty. A street dog from Bosnia that's terrified of people and who refused to come anywhere near me or anyone else. 

With only one eye and a large scar on her side that looks like a burn mark, it's easy to imagine that she lost her eye through some deliberate act of cruelty. But she can't say and I'll never know. 

What I do know is that she has a lot of love to give, now that she's becoming so used to us. And I think that as much as I'm helping her, she's helping me too. 

Who knows, maybe we'll both emerge stronger from this experience. Whether we do or not, I know one thing. There's a happy face and a wagging tail in the house again, and my heart is filled with hope. 

Breast issues!

Apparently if a woman wears a bra for 12 hours or more her chances of developing breast cancer are greatly increased.


The reason for this is that the lymph nodes in the breast require natural body movement to allow them to be emptied of their accumulated toxic waste. Bras however are designed to keep breast movement to a minimum, thus hampering the effective drainage of the lymph nodes and leading to a build up.


A doctor in Florida [Dr. Gregory Heigh] has reputedly  observed up to a 90% reversal of fibrocystic breast disorders in women who have sought to reduce the time they are restricted in bras or resolved not to wear them at all.


But what does this mean for the average lady, because lets be honest and upfront about our breasts [pardon the pun]. We are not going to let it all hang out like an advert for life au natural in the Tropical Rainforest, are we?


In this day and age where young girls are having implants in their bottoms and eyebrows tattooed to their faces, we are not going to easily see a return to simpler, less restrictive undergarments. If anything, the trend is going the other way with bras becoming more rigid and far less natural.


But I forgot... are we not the same species who managed to create skyscrapers such as the [now gone] Twin Towers, the Tower of Pisa [if somewhat leaning] and majestic structures such as Golden Gate Bridge?


Can we really create suspension bridges to carry cars over  wide-bodies of rivers, yet still not find a way to safely support two sacs of flesh on the female body? Really? I doubt that very much indeed!


Or is it that a solution already exists but it is one which is too unattractive to appeal to most men and not lucrative enough for greedy bra manufacturers, who would rather churn out nylon tat with a smattering of lace than finer, more malleable garments manufactured in more natural materials?


So girls my message is this - don't burn your bra, just demand a more natural one! And then in the words stolen from Star Trek, hopefully you really will 'live long and prosper'.


http://www.naturalnews.com/045366_breast_cancer_bras_lymph_nodes.html


Happy Reading!