Wednesday, November 14, 2018

As the clock strikes one

As the clock strikes 1am on Sunday 18th November I will be sleeping, curled up on my side while Mr H quietly purrs in a deep sleep beside me.

At the same time in 2008 it was a different story, Mr H was, with hair pulling terror, trying to shake me awake from a blue faced, shaking, shuddering black hole I had disappeared into. 
A seizure. 
My first. 
His first. 
Six hours later, drugged on anti-seizure meds, I lay on a hospital bed.  Mr H was still by my side. Then the news was delivered, which like dynamite was to blow our world in two.

I had a brain tumour. 

Ten years ago things were different:
My weekdays were full of jobs I had to do. Mind blurring meetings; rushing from one ward to another during outbreaks of infection; driving hundreds of miles from the top to the bottom of Wales. Snatched lunches gobbled down between jobs to do. Too tired to prepare food from scratch I threw quick ready meals into the oven at home.

Never a thought for my own health.

But Now
My days are full of things I want to do. I listen with a slow beating heart to the melodic voice of Katie Melua or Eva Cassidy. Or to the French radio station ABC Lounge music; a tip from my friend Jenny who recently passed on to a different world. I meditate. I choose when I sit down at the computer to type. Mr H and I grow some of our own food. I cook healthy meals from my perching stool in the kitchen. I smile a lot more. 
My mental and physical health are now at the top of my virtual to do list.

Ten Years Ago:
I climbed mountains and mind buzzing with work, Mr H and I pounded the streets and paths in our running shoes.

Nowadays:
I grin when I feel the breeze on my face as I walk slowly through wind scattered autumn leaves on a short walk back from the shops. It’s a good day. Unable to drive, I get the community travel bus, the old ladies’ bus I tell people with a grin, to my exercise class. A class I do with a group of older gents affected by Parkinson’s disease who are as wobbly on their feet as me! And on Friday the bus comes again to carry me to choir for two hours of soulful singing amongst my new friends.

Ten Years Ago:
I thought I had to keep in touch with everybody, even friends and acquaintances who made me red faced with anger or wet faced with tears. I rescued people; almost anyone who asked for my help. I carried other people’s burdens like rocks on my shoulders.  I didn’t have the skills to shake them off. I was a nurse, wasn't that what nurses do?

Now:
I surround myself with Positivity. That doesn’t mean I turn my back on friends and family in trouble. The exact opposite is true. But through counselling I have learnt that I don't have to soak up other peoples troubles then carry them around like heavy wet rags. I have learnt to use my ears more, actively listen; a troubled friend almost always knows the answers to their problems. It just helps to have someone actually listen for a change.

Ten Years Ago:
Mr H and I were already a unit. In love; Joined together through love and respect.

Today
We are Mr and Mrs and my heart swells with pride when he walks into a room. He is a gentleman, his Mum taught him that. His respectful pride in me oozes out of his every pore. I am proud of what he achieves; his integrity is as strong as an ox. We have been through a tsunami of challenges but hand in hand, we surf them together. We are bonded by a respectful love which is deeper than any ocean.

I am lucky

We are lucky
"And like the flowers in the fields, that make wonderful views, when we stand side-by-side in our wonderful hues...
We all make a beauty so wonderfully true.
We are special and different, and just the same too!
So whenever you look at your beautiful skin, from your wiggling toes to your giggling grin...
Think how lucky you are that the skin you live in, so beautifully holds the 'YOU' who's within"
Michael Tyler, The Skin You Live In