I’m fine, I’m not fine. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m fine, I’m not fine. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m fine, I’m not fine. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m scared. I’m not scared. I’m fine, I’m not fine.

These thoughts flipped-flopped through my mind on my way to work today. It wasn’t just another day – it hardly ever is. But today was time for my 18-month check-up post-cancer treatment.

When I step back and look at my breast cancer experience logically, I’m over it. Just like whatever. Life goes on right. I’m incredibly grateful for the amazing support I had – good medical aid and the best network of family and friends. But I never want to go through that again. I’ve even said, perhaps arrogantly, that if I’m unfortunate enough to be diagnosed with cancer again, that’s it. No more chemo for me. Certain smells, like vanilla or tea and McDonald’s, still trigger awful memories of nausea. It’s purely psychosomatic, but just the scent can make me feel physically ill.

With my routine check-up looming, I tried to steel myself. “I won’t give a rat’s hoo-har,” I told myself. Most of this cancer business is out of my control anyway. I live a fairly healthy lifestyle (moderately so, at least – it’s subjective, right?). I exercise some. I eat healthy some. I drink alcohol occasionally – certainly not as much as I used to. I don’t smoke, though yes, I’m a workaholic. But there are worse addictions, no?

I was so confident that I told Tony not to worry, I’d go by myself today. But as the appointment drew closer, was that anxiety I noted started creeping in…?

I started my day, as usual, presenting my Monday morning communications class. It went well – the students were engaged, and we all enjoyed it. One of them even offered me a space muffin, which I politely declined. I know, eyebrow-raising stuff. But to me, it’s a testament to the trust I’ve built with them.

As I drove to the hospital’s radiology practice, I was still cool and was still collected. But slowly, I started feeling slightly unhinged. I was relieved when Tony called and said he’d meet me there. The appointment consisted of three parts: a bone density test, a mammogram, and a CT scan.

The bone density test came first, and my nerves started going bleep, bloop, bleep. Then came the mammogram. The radiographer was incredibly gentle, explaining that due to the scarring from my lumpectomy, she needed to redo the test on my right breast. At first, I thought, “Okay, cool.” But then panic set in – what if she saw something wrong?

The second part of the mammogram was an ultrasound. By this point, I was trying to read facial expressions for any clues. I’m sure my face was tense, my jaw clenched the entire time. The radiographers smiled a little, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. I was scared as hell.

During the ultrasound, my mind raced. What if I have cancer again? Maybe chemo wouldn’t be so bad this time. But I’d definitely quit my job. I tried desperately to remember what happened during my initial diagnosis. What did the radiographer say last time? Our minds are conditioned to look for patterns, and I was searching for any sign, any hint of what was to come.

The ultrasound technician was polite but didn’t say much. She just said the doctor would come to tell me the results. When she left, the door almost closed behind her. I caught a glimpse of the mammogram technician through the slit, and she opened the door, saying, “So that you’re not so lonely.” My mind went into overdrive. Was that a sign? Were they being extra friendly to soften the blow of bad news? Oh shit. I probably have cancer again.

I started picking the nail polish off my fingers – that was very comforting. I don’t usually wear nail polish – in fact, I never wear nail polish, but the Dean treated all the ladies in faculty management to a beauty treatment at the somatology clinic at CPUT, and I asked for a manicure. I’m so glad that I had something to do while I waited. My phone was in the waiting room with Tony so I could not use it to distract myself.

Finally, the radiologist arrived. He introduced himself and confirmed my name. This is it, I thought. Then he said it all looks fine. Wait, what? My brain struggled to process. I said thank you, and he left. I had to double-check with the mammogram radiographer – he did say everything is fine, right? She confirmed.

Just then, the CT scan radiographer came to fetch me. I stopped hearing what anyone was saying, only catching phrases like “turn your gown around.” Three radiographers struggled to find a vein for the iodine drip. I told them about my recent blood test where they had to use a vein in my wrist. They tried there and found something, but it was excruciatingly painful. I didn’t complain – I just wanted it over with.

After what felt like an eternity, it was time for the scan. They injected the iodine, and I felt warmth spread through my entire body. The scan itself was quick – or was it? My sense of time was completely warped. And then, suddenly, it was over.

A wave of emotions hit me as I left the CT room. I almost walked out without my top on, but the radiographer gently reminded me to keep the gown until I reached the changing room. Everything was a blur as I made my way to Tony in the waiting room. I kept it together. Kept it together. Kept it together while we walked out of the hospital.

Once outside, the floodgates opened. Waterworks started, and emotions ambushed me – taking me completely by surprise. Hadn’t I said I didn’t care? That I didn’t give a rat’s hoo-har? Why was I crying? What the heck? I found myself completely unhinged – it was real. It took hours to ground myself again.

What was that? I don’t know. I just don’t know. Let go and let come hey. I wish I had a rand for every time I go past the start line again.

I haven’t blogged in like forever. There is like so much that has happened – at times, I thought about blogging – but just trying to find the words to say what I am feeling felt overwhelming, and in a weird kind of a way; I feel that as I am getting older, I am slightly more private?

Is this even a thing?

I’ve had my nose to the ground (nose to the grindstone?). My entire focus has been my work. It’s not a secret that I am chasing a professorship. And also no secret that I have practically (literally) been consumed by this. I run less because I work more. I hardly watch TV, haven’t been to the movies in months, and almost never go out with friends. The only thing that I haven’t sacrificed is my family. I’ve prioritized them. But even then, it is a struggle for me.

I have a very close relationship with my family – even more so, as expected, I am very close to my children. However Josh and Micaiah are more grown up (more on the “grown-up” side now) – most of the time doing their own thing. So when we go away as an extended family, there was a little part of me that feels frustrated because I have to pull myself away from work. I don’t move into “relax mode” very easily. In fact, I don’t do it naturally. The only thing, or rather person, that grounds me (and I mean no disrespect to any of my other family members), is Bailey. Spending time with Bailey that is. Bailey forces me to be present. And he is growing up so quickly. When I am with him, the rest of the world disappears. When I am with him, I prioritize him.

And I feel guilty saying this. I don’t think it’s the way I should live my life. For now though I accept that it is, what it is. I am doing what I am doing to secure a better life for Josh and Micaiah, and my family understand that? My friends too… doesn’t everyone feel this way? At the same time I find myself in this weird, competitive environment at work, and I am scared that if I don’t keep up, I am going to be left behind. And at the end of the day, I am working for a better life for us all, no? If I am in a stronger financial position…

As I am writing this it really sounds ridiculous – left behind how Bronwyn?

Working myself to a standstill virtually – so that I become a professor for better prospects for Josh and Micaiah… Wait let me say that again, I am working myself to standstill to become a professor for better prospects for Josh and Micaiah. Does that even make sense?

It feels like I’m dancing on a line of insanity. It seems insane. Will it stop if I am given a professorship? A recent conversation I had with two people who know me well suggested not. They said, because of my personality I’ll keep going?

It’s not sustainable.

And here’s the kicker, my relationship with my friends and business partners has become distant, and things have literally fallen by the wayside. In fact one of my business partners has now requested to leave our business. A similar thing happened with my two closest friends – one of them pulled out of the group.

It’s nothing directly to do with what I am doing. Had I been more present, I am not sure if there would have been anything that I could have done to stop it – Maybe – maybe not. As I drove to work today, I was thinking about it. I see my role, the choices I’ve made. What I am deciding to sacrifice. I can’t undo the past. Is it worth it for me? Hhmmmmm, if I had the chance to do it over again, maybe slightly different but I think I would still prioritize what I have prioritized. I have my goal in sight.

My goal still feels like a good goal for me. So I’m just pausing briefly to look around me. I’m looking at what is happening. And deciding, to let go and let come. In memory of Bespoke and the Din-dins. I have to trust the journey.

I would be an absolute toss if I do not say that I stand with the Palestinians. I really do believe that the world is so big – I’m only one of 8 billion and for the most part, the nobody in the world really cares, or needs my opinion. There are however a very few times in a person’s life where you see or hear something, and it really is your responsibility to pick a side. One simply cannot be silent when the level of destruction is as it is in the Middle East at the moment. We, humanity, needs to speak out for the sake of humanity.

It’s not such a complex issue….

The killing of any civilians (Israeli, Palestinians, South Africans, Ukrainian, Russian, British, you name it) is wrong – that’s simple.

Violating and denying basic human rights, food, water, electricity, health care is wrong – that’s simple.

Apartheid is wrong – oppressive discrimination on the basis of race or religion, sexual orientation or some other aspect of a person’s identity is wrong – that’s simple.

I do not condone or approve of Hamas attacks on civilians, just as much as I don’t condone the Israeli attacks. At the same time, I don’t need a PhD to see how the Israeli government has provoked Hamas. In my humble opinion, their actions are responsible, they’ve created the most fertile breeding ground for Hamas extremists – simple and unsurprising too.

Bottom line is, if history in South Africa has taught the world anything, let it be this – “Apartheid will ALWAYS fuel resistance”. It’s difficult to grasp how anyone can be surprised, when even the most gentle person turns around one day and and says that’s enough, after being provoked for more than a half a century.

I personally only experienced about 10 years of apartheid (that I can remember) and I was ready to join MK. ( Side note – My generation just-just missed being immersed in the ‘struggle’. My parents sent me to a private catholic school outside the coloured township. I believe (was told) partly to shield me from being exposed to the resistance . However, if Nelson Mandela wasn’t released when he was, my generation would have felt more compelled to join the struggle – been more active in the resistance struggle. How can one not struggle against being a second class citizen in your own country.

I vividly recall a profound conversation I had with my mom a few years ago. She said that if it had not been for international pressure put on the ‘then apartheid’ South African government to stop their atrocities, my family and I would still be second class citizens – in the country of our birth.

To my international friends, you didn’t know us personally but you defended our rights. I say thank you 🙏🏾❤️

To the rest of the world, it’s our turn to do the same for the majority of Palestinians who are completely innocent. To Israel – stop oppressing the Palestinians. The bloodshed must stop. Enough is enough. I don’t support you. I raise my flag with Palestine 🇵🇸🇿🇦

Thank you Monique, Bailey and Jase… Road flooding meant it was quite an adventure getting to our destination on Monday. We unexpectedly stayed over in Gansbaai. Regardless, we had the bestest time. But of course it’s always the bestest time, when you have the bestest Femiliyum ❤️❤️❤️

Hello friends. Tonight I thought I’d share a little about my braumeister journey – From Chemo Distraction to Kombucha Queen 👸🏾

This past year, I picked up an interesting hobby – kombucha brewing! This newfound hobby not only served as a delightful distraction during my chemo journey but also opened doors to a world of experimentation and health benefits. And I thought tonight I’d share a little chronicle – a bit of my experiences, insights about making kombucha with the perfect amount of sweetness and tang – for me that is…

Before I started jabbering away on how to make kombucha, let me first explain what I think kombucha is.

It’s a fermented tea beverage that has been consumed for centuries due to its potential health benefits and unique taste. To make kombucha, a sweetened tea is brewed and then fermented with the help of a symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast (SCOBY). The SCOBY, often referred to as the “mother” or “mushroom,” metabolizes the sugars and produces various acids, enzymes, and probiotics during fermentation.

The fermentation process typically takes about a week or more, depending on various factors like temperature and desired flavor intensity. As the fermentation progresses, the kombucha transforms into a tangy, slightly effervescent drink with a characteristic acidic taste. Many people enjoy kombucha for its refreshing qualities, potential digestive benefits, and as a low-alcohol alternative to other fermented beverages.

Kombucha can be found in various flavors, as some brewers (braumeisters 😉) add fruit, herbs, or spices during the second fermentation to enhance the taste and create a wide or wild array of flavour profiles. It has gained popularity as a health drink, but it’s essential to note that the health claims associated with kombucha vary and thus should be taken with caution. As with any food or beverage, moderation is key.

So about my story, and why I claim to be a braumeister – Let’s begin…

Chapter 1: The Discovery and Beginnings
As I began my chemo treatment, I sought a new hobby to just make my world a wee tiny bit more of a brighter place. I’m not 100% sure why I decided on Kombucha brewing. I think the idea came from a random conversation Tony and I had. Then Mel mentioned wanting to start brewing kombucha. Because I’d heard about the numerous health benefits of kombucha, I decided to give it a try. Little did I know that this simple idea would soon become a passion.

Chapter 2: The Perfect Brew – Ceylon Tea and a Dash of Sugar
After some experimentation, I found that the key to the perfect kombucha brew lies in brewing it twice. A double brew! I tried a single brew a few times but the result was simply not pleasant to drink. Through trial and error I also realize it’s best to use Ceylon tea for the initial starter. I make about two liters of black tea in a glass or plastic container, and add a healthy helping of sugar -about a cup. This sets the foundation for a delightful tangy profile with a subtle hint of sweetness. Make sure to cover it with a breathable cloth cover. A dish towel is fine. I secure the dish towel with elastic rubber bands because, especially in summer, fruit flies gravitate to the fermenting kombucha.

Chapter 3: Enhancing the Flavor with Rooibos Tea
Once the initial brew has fermented for about a week, I transfer the brew to a glass growler and add the same amount of rooibos tea. I have two growlers that I bought on the West Coast when I visited two breweries – Darling Brewery and Yzer Bru. I think using the glass growler somehow also makes a difference. Previously I used a plastic container and it simply wasn’t fizzy. The fizz makes such a difference when drinking kombucha. The fizz and the tang. Also, the rooibos infusion adds a unique twist, elevating the flavor to a delightful combination of natural tang and sweetness. I tried adding fruit in summer. It was ok and I quite like some of the combinations, but the plain Ceylon/Rooibos combination remains my favourite.

Chapter 4: Overcoming Challenges – The First SCOBY
The journey wasn’t without its challenges. I vividly recall the struggle to grow my first SCOBY during the winter months. It was painfully slow. The cold weather significantly slowed down the process, but persistence prevailed, and now I have a thriving SCOBY collection.

Chapter 5: A Compost Dilemma 🤦🏾‍♀️
As my kombucha brewing journey progressed, I found myself facing a new predicament – what to do with the extra SCOBYS. In my eagerness to brew more batches, I ended up with more SCOBYS than I needed, and eventually, some of them end up in the compost. On that note – If anyone is in the Cape Town area and wants a SCOBY for you own kombucha brewing give me a shout.

So that’s it for now folks. My kombucha chronicles. Brewing kombucha has been a delightful culinary exploration for me. And a pleasant distraction during challenging times! Weirdly, completely oddly it provided a sense of purpose and joy. I hope that by sharing my experiences and the techniques I’ve learned, the art of kombucha brewing, others can share in the joy. Cheers to health, experimentation, thriving SCOBYS and kombucha fun ahead! 🍵✨

Sitting in the dark, loadshedding. Something South Africans know all too well

I asked ChatGPT to explain loadshedding:

Loadshedding is when the electricity company intentionally cuts off power to certain areas for a period of time. They do this because there isn’t enough electricity available to meet the demand from all the people using it. So they turn off the power in different areas at different times to balance things out.

The electricity company usually plans ahead and lets people know when and where the power cuts will happen, so they can prepare. Loadshedding can be inconvenient because it means you won’t have electricity for a while, which can affect things like using appliances, lights, or charging devices.

Loadshedding is done temporarily until the electricity supply and demand can be balanced better or improved. The aim is to find ways to generate more power and upgrade the infrastructure so that there is enough electricity for everyone without the need for power cuts.

Thank goodness for a fireplace and red wine. It surely makes loadshedding more bearable

I’m brimming with excitement this afternoon. Only one more sleep until I do my tenth Two Oceans Half Marathon, and with some luck, I’ll have a permanent “blue number” this time tomorrow. The seemingly elusive blue number is a loyalty number – for runners that have partaken in Oceans ten years or more, you become part of the blue number club. You keep that number forever and you receive a little bit of preferential treatment when you enter the race e.g. there’s a special queue at race registration for blue number holders, and a special seating area just for them 🤩

Just like the PhD was a goal, it’s been a goal of mine to get a blue number, ever since I spotted the seating area in 2012 and asked Jason (my brother) about it. He pointed out that we plebs were not worthy, but that sealed the deal for me. I had to have it. So I put in the work. Jason got his blue number in 2018, and I could feel it was so close ….so palpable in 2019. But then we know Covid struck and there was no Oceans in 2020 and 2021.

The reason why I said with luck is because I would have gotten my blue number last year had I not been injured. But que sera sera, here we are now, and we hope for the best (injury free run) tomorrow.

So running tomorrow as a cancer survivor, also following rehab of pubic symphysis dysfunction makes the goal sweeter because it was tougher than expected. And to add even more sweetness, via my oncologist…. The Best, the Most Amazing Dr Lizanne Langenhoven, I got to meet the Olympic Silver Medalist Elana Meyer – extraordinary phenomenal female runner

Lizanne sponsored myself and three other ladies with pink shirts and other goodies. She tasked one of her other patients, Adele Niemand, a SA netball player to get us matching kit. It is through Adele that we meet Elana at a private function in Stellenbosch on Thursday. What a treat.

So yes I’m ready. My feet are up in anticipation of tomorrow. I’m drinking water to hydrate, and I’ll take a nice relaxing bubble bath later. Clothes packed out. Come on Oceans, bring it. Ke nako. I’m ready 😁🏃🏾‍♀️

On April 11th last year, my doctor delivered the news. Just two weeks prior, I had gone for a mammogram, and a week before that, I had a biopsy. It was confirmed on a Monday morning – I had cancer. Now, a year later, I find myself feeling incredibly grateful. Despite the rough ride, there’s a sense of happiness bubbling beneath the surface, and I believe it’s for a few reasons.

Firstly, I’m done with my surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. A tremendous relief. The treatments were daunting and challenging, but they done!

Secondly, my hair is growing back. Curly and all different directions – I’m even starting to find my short boy’s cut kind of cute on some days.

Thirdly, I’m able to train again. Although I am surely not be as fast as I was in 2019/2020, I’m grateful to be active and training, especially compared to the days when I was undergoing chemo and lacked the energy to train. And….I’m preparing to run the Oceans Half marathon again! My last Two Oceans Half marathon was in 2019, and I’m looking forward to earning my permanent blue number, which was delayed due to the Covid-19 lockdown in 2020 and 2021, and my injury-related rehab in 2022.

And another reason might be that Finally, I’ve made peace with the miscarriage Tony and I experienced in 2021. Accepting the miscarriage was tougher for me than accepting the cancer for various reasons. I had always wanted to share the experience of raising a child with someone who lived in the same home as me. My minions are my entire world and still there was always a sense of something missing – not being able to share their milestones with someone significant in our lives, in the same house.

My family was always around and supportive, yet there were times when I closed the doors at night and it felt lonely.

When Tony and I found out about our little “chicken wing,” as we called her, we were overjoyed. Losing her was devastating, but now, almost two years later, I am finally at peace with it in a way I cannot fully explain. She will always be in my heart even though she never arrived in my arms. And it finally feels ok. I don’t feel guilty or sad that I will continue my life without her. That I will enjoy my life without her physically being with me. It’s enough that I got to spend those ten weeks carrying her in my body. And I feel immensely grateful for that, and the joy of being alive.

My eldest son Josh is thriving, now in his third year at film school, and my youngest child, Micaiah, is pursuing her passion as a first-year fine art student at Michaelis (UCT). My family, parents, siblings and in-laws are doing well, and my nephew Bailey brings so much joy into my life. Work is also keeping me busy, as I’m learning a lot in my new role, despite the challenges and frustrations. With ChatGPT on the scene, life feels exciting – there’s so much research to be done.

Life just feels right, and it doesn’t feel as difficult right now. It’s all cyclical, I know. But now is the only time that ever really matters. And now I am truly grateful. Maybe it’s because I’ve survived cancer, or maybe it’s something else. Possibly acceptance is the key to happiness? By that I mean accepting whatever one’s circumstances are at that particular moment? Whatever the reason, I’m not overly bothered to figure it out. It’s just so darn lekker to be high on life. So, here’s to my first Cancerversary – a celebration of life and gratitude 🥂🍾

PS…. before I go, here are some pictures from our family Easter – lunch at my Boetie’s place and a Paw Patrol themed Easter Egg hunt all centered around my nephew Bailey. What fun, what immense fun.