22 January 2016

Waiting. I am tired. So tired that I fall asleep sitting up, for a half minute, enough to jerk my head upright when a clanging noise, a cold breeze, whatever, wakes me up again. I want to look smart and presentable when the doctors knock and walk in with their white coats swishing.
Ever since breakfast I have been imagining what I'll do once they discharge me - which they have done by now or this post would not be up. The taxi ride through the cold and sunny Friday morning, searching for the house keys and stepping into the warmth of my messy kitchen. Putting on the kettle and sitting on the old leather sofa, wrapped in two blankets, looking out into the garden with a steaming cup in my hands and the newspaper on my lap. On the window sill, the first little pots are basking in the sun. We'll start with the peppers, R told me last night.

Not looking at the lab report from hell. Not yet.

To think that somewhere on these pages with their secret codes, the bold red type indicating where my blood sample failed to remain within the reference ranges, a hidden message may be waiting.
I am kidding myself. It jumped at me as soon as I got the print out and hastily I folded it and stuffed it in my overnight bag. I can see it with my eyes closed and I wish I would be ignorant, that nobody ever told me about transaminases and inflammation markers and all that shit.

Anyway. Spring is on its way somewhere. Get a move on, hear me.

Ottorino Respighi: Ancient Airs and Dances


  1. I wish there was something akin to a "Like" button on Blogger. Maybe not "Like" for a post like this. Maybe there should be a couple of choices. "Like" just doesn't do it when bloggers share their innermost thoughts about illness or other difficult life experiences. Maybe the button should be called "Moved" or "Slam Dunked" or "I Hate Your Disease" or something like that. Anyway, as always, I am moved by your writing.

  2. I just googled "transaminases" and wondered what it all means. Our bodies are such tricky things. Everyday our cells go about doing what they do, and we here with our doctors and computers, lab results and analysis, trying to figure out the language of it all. I hope you are feeling well. Spring will arrive. The best part of a planet revolving around a reliable sun. Take care there, Sabine. I'm thinking of you.

  3. Oh, Sabine. I wish I could make it better. I, too, am moved by what you write, and humbled by the privilege of bearing witness. It is a great privilege to be in this life together, and to have them touch in this way. Thank you for this. I send love, and wishes for spring.

  4. Oh dear Sabine! I could not possibly say what is in my heart one bit better than what Angella said is in hers.
    Sending love. And wishes for spring. And thank you for your presence in my life and on this planet.

  5. I think we should have a LOVE button myself. Clicking it now!

  6. Spent hours this week in a waiting room at the hospital, attempting to bolster my friend's husband. Women seem to be the stronger. And yet, spring is a balm ... may it come soon. Sending warmest thoughts your way, liebe Sabine!

  7. Sending love to you, Sabine. It's been raining hard here in a spring-like way today.