In the face of such adversity as Sandy brought to a lot of Americans my problems are small. I just came home from my Womens Weekend and have been sitting here in tears. I have to say "goodbye" to women I love so much. I will go on with the WAGS group until Christmas, enjoy the Christmas party with them and then decide when it is time to fade away.

It is like that feeling you had as a child when you went to your favourite holiday spot and on the last day, after packing up and piling into the car, you watched as the place you loved most in the world slowly disappeared over the hill or around the bend and you were bereft, crying and thinking: "I will never be as happy again". Now as an adult I know that you can feel happy again,maybe not with that intensity but happy enough. And so you grow up into a world that will never be what the sunny holiday world was like. But okay and sometimes wonderful, full of people to love, places to go BUT not that special place.

Even this weekend I felt out of step. I knew the furious arrangements that had gone on behind the scenes with the caregivers, getting everything ready so they could leave their loved one in the care of someone else, daughters, sisters, or in some cases respite centres. It is never easy to take even a couple of days to yourself. But to maintain a balanced life and to maintain your own mental health it has to be done. You need that break, to get rested, to be aware of a wider perspective, to just remember for a few hours who YOU are as a person.

The women survivors fight different battles to get there and it was significant that we had lower numbers this year. There were two new ladies which meant that six ladies from last year were not with us. One has withdrawn from the group having been upset by something some one else had said, it happens. Two caregivers have husbands whose health has deteriorated so they didn't come this year. One was away on a cruise postponed from earlier in the year when her husband was sick, and two no-one knows really why they didn't come, they just didn't. I know we have to accept that not everyone can talk about their troubles so maybe we will never know why.

There were the success stories: "look I can do this now", the sad stories, one husband had had another stroke, my story of Ray having died in September. We all hugged each other, danced wildly, some drank and looked seedy on Saturday morning and again this morning. There were adventure stories, two of our couples now go caravanning together and they were full of where they had been and what they had seen, it was lovely to hear how stroke had brought them together and now although such holidays had been thought impossible they were now starting to live that retirement dream.

I shared with the same person I have for the past two years. She is a survivor, a hemiplegic, a scooter person, a wonderful mother and grandmother. We worked in the same building so each year I update her on the people we both know who I have gained news of. This gives us a bond as we have lots to talk about. I also help her out, she doesn't have a caregiver at home and manages okay but on this weekend I fetch and carry for her to speed things. That way she can wear a fancier dress knowing that I am there ready to help her with the buttons and zips.

My room mate had an upsetting incident on Saturday night. She is a mad supporter of a local football club and their home game was at 7.30pm at the local stadium. She had booked a Maxi taxi which can transport her and her scooter. The pick-up was over half an hour late so she only just got to the game and had some trouble manouvering to where she needed to go. The home team won 7-2 against a much stronger and better supported team. She had also booked the return journey but what turned up first was a small wheelchair taxi, then another and another. In the end one of the drivers rang back to base and angrily told base what she needed and that she was a woman on her own and she needed it NOW. So she got home at 12.30am instead of 10.15pm.

I love the dancing. I love the movement on the floor, the colors of the womens dresses, the joy on their faces and the singing and clapping and stamping that goes on. Our entertainer is an old Frenchman, full of charm, he plays the keyboards and the guitar and is more than adequate for what we need. He has had cancer and the last two nights, he said, would be his last. We were all sad about that and last night he got a lot of goodnight kisses and hugs from us all. It is sad that not only do we have to move on but others do too, due to ageing and illness and other circumstances beyond their control.

I loved the weekend. It is such a boost to all of us there. It is a revelation to the people we come into contact with. The waitresses and the service girls are all so kind because they know we are either survivors or people who look after survivors and that this is a special weekend for us all. As usual we had a massage and I had the relaxing massage this year. I know my back is much better than in previous years. The masseuse said my shoulders were very tight and I am holding a lot of tension in my neck. I told her when the massage was over that Ray had died in September and she shed a tear and gave me a hug. Such good people in the world make it a good place to be in.

So I am home and need to set up a plan to finish off some of the paperwork I have started. I need to go and see Mum tomorrow and maybe ask whether there is a plan for her. I need to contact my kids and tell them I am okay but not as okay as I would like to be (still often close to tears) but I am getting there. I need to store away happy memories, like the happy memories of this weekend to keep me going into the future.