GUILT TRIPPING

Statues in The Vigeland Park

"Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do." - Voltaire.
                                                                
I am on a guilt trip, totally laid on myself by myself. I have spent a lifetime convincing myself - and others - that guilt is a useless, destructive and wasted emotion, and when it manifests itself it's usually just in your own mind anyway. 

Well - instead of the word "guilt," which is loaded with everything from serious crime to white lies, I'll use the word "conscience." My conscience is burdened. It's heavy with the good I did not do. Though I'm told by those around me not to think this way. But I've gone many a round with my conscience to try to discover in hindsight ways in which I could have acted differently in the months - even years! - preceding my husband's cancer diagnosis, what signs I should have noticed, how I should have insisted more strongly on doctors' check-ups other than those for his usual hip and back pains, and most of all - how I reacted to what I can see now were forewarnings and premonitions.

The Vigeland Park

His extreme tiredness, abnormally long afternoon naps, low appetite (though not always), lack of energy, complaints of such. Falling asleep almost every evening, in the middle of conversation with me, leaving a frustrated, angry and desolate wife sitting alone in the living room. I felt my favourite dialogue partner, my husband, my soulmate, my best friend slipping away from me, and I couldn't understand it. 

This is what I tell myself now, to try to soothe my conscience - how could I have known? Suddenly his condition deteriorated only days before he was diagnosed and quickly moved over into a different state - with obvious physical signs, like his whole left side becoming distorted and crooked. Then I acted. But still I thought they were signs of a stroke, not the tumour pushing his brain sideways so that everything on his left side started malfunctioning - mouth, speech, sight, hand, foot. My heart breaks when I recall those days.

But I have to remind myself - to lighten my heavy conscience - there were only very few of those days. The earlier signs were difficult to interpret. Still I keep beating myself up over having been so exasperated and impatient with him.

Carrot cake made by friend and neighbour Turi at the weekend and brought over as a treat

Apple pie with whipped cream, made by me

I really haven't done much cake baking since my daughters were children. I probably had enough of it! Always some event that required a cake or something in that genre. Birthday parties, parents/teachers meetings, school parties, end-of-term gatherings, sports centre duties…. you name it. I was not the type of mum to purchase brownies from the supermarket and roughen them up to make them appear home baked! But now I try to throw together the ingredients for a cake every weekend, in order to feed those calories into my undernourished husband. Compensating for the guilty conscience perhaps?

So far the apple pie is his favourite, but then it has always been.

There is one thing I definitely don't feel guilty about - swimming! Unfortunately I have not been able to swim as often as I like this winter, for obvious reasons, and also because I've been having recurring ear infections. My immune system might have been a bit weaker than usual, at least that's what the doctor told me when I asked for my second antibiotics treatment just before Christmas. But I'm back to being a water baby now!

Another characteristic of mine that I've stopped feeling guilty about is staying up all night. I've always liked evening and nighttime, ever since I was a child, and I remember meeting, totally connecting and partying with a girl (hmmm…. a woman my own age actually) in Zürich some years ago who was just like me. She worked in the hotel I was staying at and I admit to stealing her motto: "I'm the evening girl." (Meaning she always worked evenings, but I thought it was appropriate)! The above photo was taken by me at four - or was it five - a.m. last Friday (Saturday)? Sunrise! Yes, this is when I see it, going to bed, never when getting up….. I've reconciled myself with my bedtime fear.

School photo from 1962 - all girls' class - I was seven years old. Which one am I?