28 October 2018

Like a fool I still believe it will get easier with time. Is this a survival instinct?
Anyway, it didn't and it wasn't, my seventh encounter with monoclonal antibody therapy. A grand word for spending a day in a state of drowsy nausea while attempting to act unfazed and not at all scared. In the early hours, I even converse with other humans until the world fades into grey.
You'll be here again in six months, the nurse tells me. I am not sure whether this is meant as a comfort or a dare.  Am I alive because of or despite this therapy? I have lost the plot a long time ago.

Instead, I get a treat and after the predictable 24 hour battle with extremely low blood pressure, I am packed into the car and chauffeured to the sea, dramatic clouds and open horizons, the flat landscape of southern Holland, sipping mint tea while watching the tide going out.


"When somebody does me a kindness, it enlarges me, adds to my life . . . And not only mine, it adds to all life."

Tim Winton   (from: The Shepherd's Hut, best book I've read all year.)










10 comments:

Ms. Moon said...

Yes. Probably a survival instinct but also, there is always the possibility...
My heart hurts for you, Sabine. And it soars a little, thinking of you watching the sea and sipping mint tea.

ellen abbott said...

I wish someone would pack me in a car and chauffeur me to the sea. of course, the coast is only about an hour from here so I could take myself. if I could wave a magic wand it would be over you.

am said...

Sending love to you, Sabine. What a great kindness it was for R to take you to see beauty of the ocean in Southern Holland after your medical ordeal. Our public library has a copy of The Shepherd's Hut. I put it on hold.

Your photos for this post are a treasure to me, since it's been 10 years since I've been to the coast. Thank you

My life so far said...

The treatment sounds awful but the sea looks like an excellent tonic for the soul

Colette said...

Good to know you are someplace beautiful as you convalesce. Outstanding photos! I was moved by the quote. We all need more kindness.

Linda d said...

Sabine, I am so sorry. I cannot imagine what this must be like for you but I think I know a bit of the fear. I say that as the room spins slightly. And I know when it is really bad, that I am afraid it will stay that way. I wish you healing and comfort in you beach, your tea and your prince in the white horse.

Roderick Robinson said...

o go briefly into another country, that's what mainland Europeans can do. Me, I can slip down the road and I'm in Wales with bi-lingual road signs. But that's not quite the same in this ironically christened United Kingdom.

May others be casual about our sufferings? The answer's yes but the tone has to be well-judged; we must be made to feel part of some greater normality. The shoreline in winter is on the edge of normality: wildness there, stability here. I hope you felt that through the soles of your no-doubt expensive German shoes. But then all German shoes are expensive; I know; I've done the research.

Anonymous said...

A beautiful place to heal, recover, be restored, rest and reawakened to the beauty of the world. Thinking of you and hoping for the best outcomes always. Take care and enjoy the tides of our whirling planet.

Joared said...

Trust the treatments accomplish their promise, but ideally the experience could be more pleasant. The scenes photographed are spectacular! Glad you could have the pleasure of experiencing their view.

Rouchswalwe said...

Thank you for this and for the Winton book title!