GLOOM

Trying to photograph the falling snow

Lately I've kept being awakened in the middle of the night thinking we're either being invaded, or there's a helicopter landing in our garden. But no. It's only the snow ploughs. Every night it's the same, snow ploughs trudging up and down our street, simple ones that just shovel the snow to the side, and then these are followed by the more advanced ones, which both shovel and are equipped with some sort of sucking and spewing mechanism (oooo, that sounds awful), so that the snow gets sucked into a long tube and then thrown out again away from the road. This is particularly efficient for clearing pavements.

Some years ago we had a municipal government here in Oslo who tried to save money by not shifting the snow on the city streets, which meant it was literally impossible to either walk or drive. When the population complained we were told by the politician in charge to get out and clear the streets ourselves. Oh wow! Did he ever become unpopular! As a matter of fact I don't think he was ever reelected.

So thank you - all you busy snow ploughs and the night people who drive them! I don't care if I get my sleep interrupted!

It's snowing incessantly here, and consequently there's been no view of the sun for days and days. And there's a freezing wind which lowers the felt temperatures. The gloom is getting to me, but over the years I've learnt to compensate by busying myself with enjoyable things inside my house. Yesterday I lit a fire, put Rosanne Cash's latest album on the loudspeakers, poured myself a glass of wine and skimmed through the weekend papers. The only time I ventured outside the front door was to walk the two steps to my shed to get some firewood.

But it's important for my husband to be up and about, and he's been strongly recommended to try and go for walks every day. So the other day we went for an evening walk in the nearby Park, where we were more or less by ourselves, everyone else having escaped inside from that ice cold wind. 

But if only my husband would eat a little bit better! I keep trying to tempt him with all sorts of favourite dishes, and there are days when his appetite seems to have improved. But the following day he'll eat just because he knows he must. Now that he's not on any medication I long for the day when he'll say - yes, this tastes good! His taste buds are simply not functioning as they did before he became ill, but I suppose we have to be patient.

I sometimes feel as if I merely exist these days - tumbling blindly and pointlessly around in a big black void - but at the same time I'm also particularly aware of the good moments. It's like my presence in them is much stronger than before. A cat at my window. A phone call or a message from a friend or a family member. A visit from my granddaughters. A conversation with a daughter. And - like this very moment while I sit at my computer writing my blog post - my husband sleeping on the sofa an arm's length away from me. Just being close, feeling the presence of my loved ones, my life intertwined with theirs.

Oh yes. I still have a lot to enjoy, to appreciate and to love. Light will always push its way through gloom and darkness.

STRESS & RELIEF

I nearly collapsed from stress on Friday. My daughter Johanne had invited her sister Sophie to Amsterdam for her birthday present, and just as they were leaving Sophie couldn't find her passport. Looking for something in a stressful situation like that is pointless, and she finally had to leave for the airport without her passport. They ran off to catch the airport train, leaving a trembling and nauseous Big Mama to babysit the two granddaughters for the weekend, and I told my daughters not to phone me unless they could offer good news. But of course I was not able to relax at all until I heard from them - and guess what! You don't need a passport in the The Schengen Area! You can travel with an ID-card, like your bank card or driving licence. Actually - I knew this. But why have I heard of so many friends and acquaintances who've had to pay a fortune for an emergency passport at the airport?

I found Sophie's passport the minute I got home, of course. It was in a place where we'd both frantically searched.

"Marius" jumper no 1

"Marius" jumper no 2

Knitting has been a form of therapy for me these past few months. I finished the first jumper in the typical Norwegian pattern called "Marius" last week - for Sophie, and have started a new one for Johanne, in the exact same colours. A bit boring, maybe - but my granddaughter has ordered one in pink, so that'll be a welcome change. I was very proud when I finally sewed up the last stitches to the neck. But alas - it turned out it was too tight for Sophie - who gets a bit claustrophobic around turtle neck jumpers anyway, and especially woolen ones, so now I have to rip back and redo the neck. And I just said knitting was therapeutic!

But going to the hairdresser's IS therapeutic. My Swedish hairdresser had suddenly decided to pack in her job and return to Sweden because her boyfriend longed for home, so I was back with my old hairdresser Emilie (well, she's young enough to be my daughter). I love her - she's the sweetest, nicest person! As usual here are my fresh-from the-hairdresser-selfies:

As you can see, outside my window there's lots of snow. Driving through a shaded and cold forest on Sunday I nearly skidded off the road and in among the trees - or worse, into a tree. The road was pure shiny ice and the car went completely out of control. My husband in the passenger seat and my two grandchildren in the back…. well, my heart pounded wildly for a long while afterwards. But the relief was immense. For once I was almost glad my husband has a slightly slow perception these days, and he actually said so himself! "I didn't notice anything until you were almost over the snow bank - thank heavens!"

My front garden

My winter wake up call

Maybe a certain amount of stress is not all bad for you. At least the relief afterwards is so tangible it feels almost good. It IS good. Because once again the situation is back to normal.

And yes. We still have stressful days. We still enjoy normal and relaxed situations. Just like everyone else. There's a certain relief in this too.

WINTER LOVE

Last week I said goodbye to my daughter Julie and her boyfriend Josh. Except he is no longer her boyfriend - he's her fiancé! YES! She left Oslo with a diamond ring on her finger and a happy smile on her face. Although they were both sad to leave it was time to head back to Australia and start the wedding planning. We are all so incredibly happy for them, and we know that she's being well looked after in Melbourne by Josh and his lovely family. But I do miss her a lot and can't wait for their return in July for summer holidays. Poor Josh couldn't believe the short dark days in Norway - without snow this Christmas (which at least makes the surroundings look a bit brighter) - and was overcome by this as well as the jet lag and slept for hours during the daytime. I told him it'll be the other way around in July - no darkness at all and total insomnia!

Today was our first visit to the doctor in four weeks. Four weeks of no chemo, no radiotherapy and a minimum of medication for my husband. We had thought this would be a good time, with recovery, regaining of appetite and stamina, less fatigue and nausea. But no. On the contrary he has seemed to get almost worse during this four week break - which in some ways we were prepared for, as we knew the treatments would continue to work - but we have all been surprised at how slowly (or not at all) his general condition has improved. Today we received some answers.

The extensive treatments he underwent those six weeks in November and December were so strenuous that his body has had some real trouble tolerating them. Blood tests even show that his liver has suffered. So the doctor's decision was to make his immediate recovery the main priority, and to achieve this there's no more treatment for the time being. So no new chemo period! Which all means we will definitely see an improvement in his health condition very shortly. When he has recovered sufficiently he will also be able to take part in the hospital's research programme on the new medicine, which will probably be launched during the first half of 2014.

Our spirits were lifted today, and I could see the optimism in my husband's eyes. It's very exhausting to be constantly exhausted. Here's hoping for a positive change in the near future!

Snow, low temperatures and thus real winter (as some may call it) finally arrived in Oslo, and I'm shivering all the time. I caused a huge uproar among my (Norwegian) Facebook friends when I posted a status that proclaimed my love for the mild green winter which we were "blessed" with up until the 10th January. Being a Norwegian you're practically obliged to love snow and skiing, but I'm now old enough and self confident enough to confess that I simply can't stand either. I'm afraid that for me winter is just something to be tolerated when you've been born in this outpost next to the North Pole.

Blowdrying my hair one morning this week I was suddenly turned into a true Goldilocks, as the sun came through the snow-filled clouds and filtered through my filthy bedroom windows - oh, how I long for spring!…...

…… not to mention summer!

Well, well…. Even I can see the beauty of snowy fields in the "Blue hour" - as in this photo taken a year ago on an evening walk:

Or the weird aesthetic in the hazardous way we drive on our snow packed roads. Hazardous because in any other country you'd leave your car at home on a day like this. But we Norwegians have a blind trust in our winter tyres and our superior experience in driving on snow and ice (even if snow-and-ice practice was only ONE of our many driving lessons, or in fact NONE, if you're as old as I am)!

I found some photos the other day on my husband's camera, from New Year's Eve - here he's photographing the "older" girls in the family - his sister Eva and Julie trying to pose nicely and my other two daughters Johanne and Sophie trying to distract me. Which, of course, they fail to do….. 

My husband is surrounded by girls. Though a bit exasperated at times, he knows that his girls love him endlessly.

WRAPPING UP CHRISTMAS

During our celebration of Christmas and the New Year I usually take a little time to reminisce - either alone or together with the family - about previous celebrations. I think I do this because Christmas rituals are always the same, always traditional - and important for precisely that reason. Our rituals tell us that some things never change, and there's comfort in this. So at one point my mind will wander to those times I've celebrated Christmas in other countries, where my parents made sure the warmth and happiness of our usual traditions surrounded us, even though we were far away from home.

Above is a photo of a diary page, written by me (14 years old) on December 24 1969 at 11.53 pm, in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania:

"Only 7 more minutes to go before it is Christmas Day.
I suppose you can guess why I'm up late. We've had a lovely evening. First a great turkey dinner and then some cool presents. I just loved everything I got. I got three plays by Shakespeare, "Julius Caesar", "As You Like It" and "Romeo and Juliet." Then I got an Oxford Dictionary, a cool hairbrush and a brown kitenge dress, just the kind of material I wanted. And I got the LP "Hair" which is really beautiful. All this was from the family, but there was one special present from Harald, a most beautiful horse's head which he had made out of clay. I wonder how he can do it! It's so natural, just like a real one. He could just as well sell it and earn lots on it. But I'm so glad he gave it to me. Lori had also given me a present, a turquoise mini glook which will remind me of her.
We went to church today. It was a Scandinavian assembly, but an American pastor, the Rev. R. Englund. He is Harald's baseball coach."

So funny, so great to read again…. Talk about sibling love! (Harald is my brother). And look - I've still got my Shakespeare plays!

Another Christmas in a foreign land - Kuwait 1974

This Christmas we had a few dialogues at home about the shopping madness that goes on during the pre-Christmas days. My diary entry certainly proves that forty-four years ago teenagers' expectations of gifts were much lower, but then again this was well before the "electronic age."

I had no energy for Christmas shopping this year, so all I managed was to buy some gift cards for my granddaughters. The whole idea of going out and spending lots of money and time on presents somehow seemed a bit pointless this Christmas, with so much else going on in our little family. I've said to my daughters that after my husband has finished his second period of chemotherapy in March, and has had his first brain scan to establish how the treatments have worked - then! Yes, then…. we'll all have a holiday in France together.

A strong sense of wistfulness came over me the other day while I was removing our Christmas decorations. Wrapping them up in plastic bags, stowing them away for the thirty-first time in this house, knowing that the next time they'll be used we are in another home - our new flat.

And perhaps this wistfulness is intensified by the present uncertainty of what our future holds in store for us. No one knows what the future will bring, of course - this is part of our humanness - but I feel that our future has never been as untouchable, as unreachable or as inaccessible as it is now. It's simply one big black hole.

Still, we had a wonderful New Year's Eve and walked out into our street at midnight, as always, to welcome 2014. The fog had lifted, and we spotted some fantastic fireworks and raised our champagne glasses to wish each other a HAPPY NEW YEAR.

And a Happy New Year to you too, my readers. I'm so pleased you've followed me for a whole year already and I know you'll continue to journey with me throughout 2014. Let's hope this year will turn out not to be that black hole after all.