wish we were here

Wishing we were here.

At the moment my instagram and bloglovin are full of other families spending the winter school holidays somewhere warm and tropical. So I look at the picture in waiting room for the radiation treatment and I wonder what they were thinking when they chose this particular picture. This part of the hospital is built into the side of the hill, there are no windows and it feels a bit like a modern and somewhat stylish Thunderbirds bunker. I'm sure there was good intention behind the backlit tropical beach scenery in three parts but it isn't peaceful, it's rage inducing. I nearly cried when I saw it for the second time today. Grace and I were meant to be going to Bali with my Dad and I was looking forward to it hugely. I spent hours on Tripadvisor and Youtube, including dodgy Bali horror stories and if I was a little fearful, it was only adding frisson to the excitement. Of course we couldn't still go, it's unthinkable really, but that picture on the wall totally undoes me.

Funnily, I don't feel the same way about friends holidays on Facebook or Instagram. I stalk their posts and wonder if we would go to the same places, looking to see what it was like. I'm pleased for them and even if I am saying, why isn't that us, I'm still happy that they're there. I fantasise about us being in Bali too, drinking fresh juices and having dinner cooked for us or going out to eat. I wonder if I would have braved the white water rapids and whether I could have persuaded Dad to go to the hot springs. Anyway when we do finally go, surely there will be someone else who has to stay home for some less than flash reason. Not that I want them to, but life as I am learning, can be a bit like that.

It was Gerard's second treatment today and his first in the regular time slot. It was funny being the new people. Other people in the waiting room were finishing up their treatment and many of them seemed to know each other. They were friendly enough and the waiting room is quite comfortable with a water tap, tea and coffee facilities, a jigsaw on the go, books and lots of different sorts of magazines. I guess I'll be spending a bit of time there. Waiting. Gerard said the treatment is a bit unbearable at the end but that it doesn't hurt. I spent my time knitting, I'm thinking I might finish the socks I started winter before last. I also glowered at the tropical beach scene.

4 comments:

  1. It's so hard what you're going through. I don't wonder you feel rage at photos. I hope, like you do, that you'll get to go x

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  2. Yep, it is hard and I had to work at not crying today (wasn't a good place to cry). I think what I miss the most is my independence, the sense that I can leave everything and head off on the bus for the day and that everything will be alright while I'm gone.Or go and do a market, or plan a dental/doctors appointment without getting a zillion people involved. There are still good things though, my cooking has improved and we are eating good healthy food. G and I are getting on better and better and we are still being reasonably social. I'm getting ready to do some sewing and other homey activities. But the picture of the blue water undoes me. Funny how that works.

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  3. Being a carer is a huge life change and bloody hard work, Anger and sadness are normal parts of that experience. Love to you xx

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  4. Dear Janet, so sorry to read your news, but it does sound like things are improving, which is wonderful. Having once been in a similar situation myself, I really do sympathise with the amount of stress you are under and the imperative to keep yourself strong to keep the family functioning. So good that you are getting on with as much 'normal' life as possible and I send all my best wishes and hippy healing vibes.xx

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