The Last Word

'All our life passes in this way: we seek rest by struggling against certain obstacles, and once they are overcome, rest proves intolerable because of the boredom it produces.'
BLAISE PASCAL, Pensees

Although I had promised myself there would be no further dialogue on the matter of the missed breakfast, and the assistance given to the neighbours, I cannot help but have the 'last word' in order to clarify the situation. Sunday morning breakfast was far from the only occasion that I was left 'Feeling Let Down and Disappointed' It happens frequently.

Indigo Dreaming is a Blog of 'My Life;' a record for my children and grandchildren. I deliberately choose to keep most of what happens in my personal relationship away from these pages. I remain mindful that what is written here is a record for life. The written/spoken word cannot be taken back. Why destroy a relationship that has taken years to build. My life is about learning to love unconditionally, which means many things are allowed to 'go through to the keeper.'

The reality for me is that the cancer, recurring in my glands, has spread to the area under the breast. It follows the ribs from the outside in towards the centre. The lesions emerge, appearing to 'pop' out, breaking the surface in pea size lumps. They are inflamed, red, angry and extremely painful. Pain is managed by increasing doses of opiates Wound malodour is a distressing symptom, making life more difficult, requiring regular visits from a specialised Wound Care Nurse. The original fungating wound has increased in size. It is similar looking to a volcano, spewing out its contents, causing me much pain in the area surrounding it. It seems chemotherapy is the only treatment for something that appears to have come from a young specialist who choose to give more, rather than less radiation, knowing that the area cannot be re-radiated.

For me, and my loved ones, it is not a 'pretty' picture. I have no use of my right lymphoedema hand/arm and it continues to hang limply, like a lump of lead, by my side. Domestic duties are difficult. Meal times a bit of a nightmare as H eats only to live; he is not particularly interested in food. Food preparation was always my domain; I loved to experiment with food. I do have domestic assistance and love it when Carole and Tracy arrive each Monday morning. My home sparkles when they leave but they do not help me to get dinner on the table each night.

I guess the reason that I look forward to the opportunity of going out to eat is that it takes me away from the reality, and boredom, of mealtimes at home. I have convinced myself that lambs fry and bacon is good for my iron levels. Although H is extremely good at providing transport for my appointments, we have no 'social' life together. Breakfast at the Paterson B and B is a 'big thing' for me. I no longer have years to look forward to. Without a miracle, my life is being measured in days, week and months.