BLACK IS BLACK

 

"I can't stand the rain against my window…" - a song by Ann Peebles, but one which I associate with Tina Turner. 

Well, it's not entirely true. I really don't mind the rain, as long as it doesn't go on for ages. It can be quite soothing actually, and not least cosy. The above photo, taken through my window from the inside, shows my living room mirror inverted. We always look forward to building a fire in our fireplace, but the weather is too warm at the moment! November with 11-12 degrees, well… Though I do recall the weather the week after my daughter Julie was born on the 28th November 1986... You are not supposed to take newborn babies outside into winter temperatures because it can be bad for their lungs, but the weather that November and December was glorious - according to my standards anyway because I hate the snow and cold - and we wrapped her up in the pram and took her for walks immediately. It was like an Indian Summer!

Today was All Saints Day, and we bought wreaths and candles and trudged off through the rain to our parents' graves. Me pushing my husband in the wheelchair over the deep though beautiful red gravel paths of the cemetery - and wow, what a physical challenge! This wheelchair is on loan from the district council, and we're waiting for the "real" one (ordered a month ago). I'll make sure I phone them tomorrow to ask them to place a small motor device on it!

An eventful week has just come to an end. Just before last weekend my husband started complaining about pains in his left side, vaguely explaining them as stabbing into his lung, his shoulder, his chest. I was definitely not accommodating - "this is probably just a pulled muscle, you've been lying in bed too long, blah blah…" Besides, Sunday was the day he really started hurting and wanted to see a doctor, and it just wasn't convenient for all our plans that day, also considering it wasn't a weekday, so that meant less people on call in every hospital or emergency room. I convinced him to wait, as we were due to see the cancer doctor on Wednesday anyway.

Oh, my black black conscience!

Knitting at hospital bedside, a relaxing pastime for hours

On Monday morning I awoke with an obvious and sudden thought: Blood clot! Embolism! It simply dawned on me that his symptoms reminded me of the ones he had thirty years ago, when he had a blood clot in his lung after knee surgery. And he'd thought the same.

Phone call to hospital, off after quick breakfast, admission to emergency examination ward, LOTS of tests, blood tests showing infection, lung scans, and yes. Embolism - blood clot in his lung and early pneumonia. Hospitalised for two days.

Hospital meal for me from the kiosk in the foyer - the saltiest and driest omelet I've ever tasted. You can actually see the dry crust here...

What's wrong with my judgment? My trivialisation of a very ill man's pains? My authority phobia? Because that's what it is - I'm basically scared of people in scrubs, or in uniform, or in authority positions of any kind! Afraid of teachers, police, customs (well, that's more natural perhaps). My daughters will tell you that if I'm ever stopped by police in a traffic control I'm immediately guilty as hell. Whatever they'll accuse me of - speeding, drunk driving, car faults - I'll admit to everything easily! Present them both my wrists and ask to be jailed. Arrest me! I've done it all!

And it certainly didn't help when a friend of my husband's called and said: "Oh no. You shouldn't have handled it this way. Never hesitate! Contact the doctor immediately"! Yes please. Do rub it in.

So I didn't want to bother the hospital staff. Even with a husband who's got the worst diagnosis ever. I learnt something this week, and that's a good thing. I learnt not to excuse myself to people in scrubs. Hah! Besides they are all younger than me! The doctor who admitted my husband had long red curls and huge tattoos. What age could he have been? 28 perhaps? I'll deal with the police next!

Bryan Ferry - dancing with hand on thigh. Like all older men do.

Thinking back on this somewhat traumatic week - my husband was released after two days in hospital AND told everything was discovered at an early stage and there was no real danger - I see that I've had a good time after all. Fantastic shellfish meal at sister Kari's house last Saturday - and her delicious sauces are the best! Relaxed and warm atmosphere with those closest to my heart. Bryan Ferry in concert a week ago with good friends (and Dim Sum first - which I love)! Tea and talk on Wednesday with sweet neighbour Lone, school Mum in Sophie's class (though ages ago now), then an unexpected visit and beautiful flowers from old friend Tonje on Friday - we gave birth to our first-borns within hours of each other on the same snowy December night in 1983. That's how we met and became friends! Last night there was dinner with two of my very best friends Anne-Helene and Unni, and we talked and laughed until... well….. None of us looked at the clock…. I'd arranged for two mates of my husband's to stay with him while I was at dinner, and I'd cooked for them and made sure there was enough tonic water in the house for their GTs. What more could they ask for?

Always soothing - "walkin' and talkin" in the Park with best friend Grete

Scary granddaughter Jelena and friend Frances on Halloween night - they won first prize in the contest! 

What I really wanted to say tonight is this: Black conscience or not, traumas or no traumas, ups and downs, rain or shine. I love my friends. I appreciate immensely all the support I get and I revel in a "like" or a comment on Facebook, or a message behind the FB wall. I indulge in sympathising emails, I take great pleasure in every comforting word and feedback. You should know - all of you - that it helps me make it through the night. Or the day for that matter. I honestly don't know where I would have been without you. And I relay it all - well nearly all - to my husband.