So here's hoping that my blog readers haven't forgotten all about me! I checked and discovered that my last entry was posted on November 12 - which is over six weeks ago. In those six weeks I've lived a whole lifetime and experienced one of the most dramatic upheavals of my life - moving house after thirty-one years.
Well, I might be exaggerating just a tiny bit here, because as it turned out I haven't really looked back once. I think the whole process of moving - clearing out, throwing away, then living for a while among packed boxes, the actual removal, the horrible mess, the huge effort of it all - it is such an incredibly exhausting job, and the relief of getting yourself, your family and all your belongings safely under a new roof is overwhelming. Not to mention taking in the grim ugliness of the old house when it's been emptied. That's when you really spot all the flaws!
My three daughters threw a joint "Burning down the House" party in their empty childhood home, placing candles everywhere and playing loud music that reverberated all through the neighbourhood. No complaints from the best neighbours in the world, who will be sadly missed. We did live in Paradise, I realise that now, after having moved to an apartment block with hundreds of rules and regulations and plenty of self-appointed janitors to enforce them. We managed to receive angry heated complaints from four different people in as many days, not even knowing exactly what we did wrong. (Well, one of the mistakes was placing my husband's wheelchair in the corridor outside our front door - I should have known that was offensive)…
First evening in new home
First night in new home
Veranda in new home
My husband spent the moving week in a Hospice in Oslo, a brilliant suggestion from his cousin. At one point in this process there is nowhere to sit, nowhere to lie down, nowhere to cook, no towels or soap to have a shower. He was wonderfully cared for by the angels who work in the Hospice, and was happy not to be in anyone's way or have us stress him.
The removal men claimed they'd never moved such a huge load before - I don't know if I believe them! They used 8 hours the first day and 3 the next. I thought that was pretty quick! I've never seen such efficiency, I don't think they took a single break! And I had fantastic help from daughters Sophie and Julie and son-in-law Josh. I couldn't have done it without them, and on the Friday I took them out to dinner at the atmospheric restaurant of Tranen, complete with pre-dinner cocktails in the Speakeasy bar, several courses and three bottles of wine. Well deserved!
In the midst of all the craziness and hassle of moving and settling in, my husband had two appointments at the cancer hospital - the brain scan and a week later the doctor's for results. We knew it wouldn't be uplifting because his eyesight is deteriorating. And not surprisingly we were right - the tumour is growing and spreading its tentacles into the visual cortex of the brain. So not only is his left side mobility getting worse, but he's now only able to vaguely discern his surroundings. TV-watching and reading are out of the question. But the real blow for him is not making out the playing cards properly at poker. He will be seeing an optician after Christmas, to explore the possibilities of attaching magnifying glasses to his spectacles, or something to that effect.
Colourful gingerbread created by my grandchildren
Decorating the Christmas tree with what we managed to find - very minimalistic!
Table set for our Norwegian traditional Christmas dinner on the 24th December - fun and laughter and great food
But we have enjoyed Christmas so far after all, not least because my husband has a remarkable will and way of mastering his fate and his reduced faculties. An admirable reconciliation with his limitations, which are not limitations to him, but challenges! Not least because we have an exceptional family surrounding us. And not least because his friends support him to the end of the world and back. They never stop phoning, or visiting, or taking him out.
But I must admit that on the day I was bitched at for leaving the wheelchair in the corridor, only minutes before we were due at the cancer hospital for the scan results, I lost it completely with the rude complainer (a man), who never even introduced himself, and I yelled at him that his timing was so bad and I would place the wheelchair on the veranda the second I came back from the hospital (if that wouldn't be another provocation), and that in addition I would move out again as soon as possible from this hellhole of an apartment block. (I'm sure he didn't sleep too well that night, and I'm glad if he didn't)… Then later that evening - when my husband stumbled and fell up the stairs to the poker room while I was assisting him, I simply burst into tears, uncontrollably.
Small challenges can simply bowl me over these days, while those big challenges seem to keep me going. Is this what is called fighting for survival? Perhaps.
Merry Christmas to all of you! I love you!
