Yesterday I scoffed chocolate cake and watched the sun play in the fields beyond the hospital grounds. I nosily asked questions of a young woman just starting out on the same treatment... her heart was beating at 120, her bp was dropping, hot flushing - I couldn't help myself - I marched over, trailing my infusion, and said, "Don't let them increase the rate!" "But I feel so guilty," said she, "it'll take ages at a slow rate!" "Hmmf," said I. "So what? I am always the last in here, because I insist they go slow." I looked beadily at her husband. "Does she need to rush back?" "No, no, no!" he cried, hastily, warned by the martial gleam in my eyes. "She can take as long as she likes!" "So," says I. "All settled then." When the nurse bustled over to change the rate again ("Shall we increase to 400?"), my new friend said, "I'd like you to leave the rate at 300, please."
I gave her a thumbs up and shimmied back to my chair. Who knew I could be so bossy??
Home again, mes amies, to the bright, hot, divinity of a summer's day. The morning after my first infusion is always perfect. I dragged my yoga mat out into the garden and did a single Surya Namaskar - any more and I might have found myself back on the wards, but a single salutation to the sun was my gratitude.
Later on today, when my lymph nodes gnarl and gnaw, when the fevers start and my heart kicks up an unruly beat, I shall remember the deliciousness of a single moment. I don't mind the pattern of sun and shade. I hold them both in the palm of my hand.
Father, who is baking his tootsies in the sun, has just bellowed for a coke float (vanilla ice-cream scoops in a glass of coke - it's an Indian thing)...
Ah... we sure know how to live it up, here in the Shires...
p.s. have just received comments on the coke float not being an Indian thing - a universal thing, in fact. I stand, happily, corrected.
That's a US thing to...aaah, floats, haven't had one in years.
ReplyDeleteGlad you got a bit of enjoyment out of the sun, I'm having to grab my sun-moments when it's well low in the sky, and then bid it goodnight. Little moments, little moments.
I think a float is a universal thing!
ReplyDeleteI remember my Nan used to give us Coke Floats when we were younger. Lovely memories! Glad you're feeling good, at the moment at least!
i'l pray 'u ' jst get better every sec.:)
ReplyDeleteThanks Oya's Daughter, and Ed, for enlightening me to the universality of the Coke Float :)
ReplyDeleteCould there be anything more unhealthily yummy?
Glad it brought back fond memories of your Nan, Ed xxx
Thank you for the good wishes, Dr H!
Ah your dad has such good taste - I love them more than even milkshakes! Salutations to all of you from this sode of the sun!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you are home.
ReplyDeleteI love your outlook on life! And I love all the little surprises in your blog.
(thebadactress on twitter :) ) x
Not bossy - a help - maybe even a savior that day for that girl. No doubt, a blessing.
ReplyDeleteFLOATS!!!!!! I had forgotten floats!!!!!!!!!! I am glad you had your moment in the sun. Snuggle under a soft blanket when things get gnarly and read the most escapist romantic novel you can find.........
ReplyDeleteThis is such a wicked disease... I am so grateful you are there on the spot when another patient was in need. I still have to be careful of the sunshine but it does help the spirits. Peace, Mary Helen Fernandez STewart
ReplyDeleteThe lucky, lucky woman to be cheered on by you. I embrace you now, in the gnarly time. Hurting, hurting, hurting for you.
ReplyDeleteWe had root beer floats, and I loved them. Be better soon. xoxo
And how 'bout you and I go to a reading together one day? You read, I'll listen and eat poetry. It'll be magic soul food.
missing you
ReplyDelete