It has become really really hot. After a short trip (on bicycle!!) to the farmers market and a quick cup of coffee we buried ourselves inside the shuttered and closed house. In between rests and rehydration sessions I tried to help R finish up the renovations downstairs.
At midnight temps were still around 30°C and I was stretched out on the patio stones (which were almost as hot as an electric blanket) looking at the stars. Searching for cool and restful sleep we moved around the house with blankets and pillows meeting up here and there. Eventually I slept surprisingly well in the laundry with the door to the garden wide open, vaguely registering the heavy thunderstorm sometime in the early hours and if any stray cats came to visit I never noticed.
There was a refreshing breeze for a while this morning but I almost failed to notice as I was battling waves of nausea and worsening of various symptoms - all the time trying to avoid being hit by this oncoming train called panic. I had a good (?) cry and tried to sort myself out, as in what have we got here: side effects of MTX, maybe a little flare up due to the heat, tension, blocked nose, need to drink more, calm down, breathing, breathing, breathing... and as it happened before this image of A came to mind battling viral encephalitis after her bone marrow transplant thinking of her small daughters and I feel such a miserable pityful whimp - and elated because I am so much alive. So much alive. So much alive.
1 comment:
Yes. It is something to learn, the gratefulness when there are days when we forget how to be appreciative of being alive.
Yes. It is something to be learned. Because there are days, really, when I think it doesn't matter one way or another, being alive or not.
This would qualify as selfishness, wouldn't it?
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