two more weeks

Two more weeks of radiotherapy. The last two weeks of radiotherapy. Just this week and then next week and Gerard's radiotherapy will be done. I think we are counting down the days. His fatigue is extreme, last night at swimming he lay down on the hard wooden bench and fell into a deep sleep. The swimming lesson coordinator came to speak with me about Grace's progress and improvement and  I felt the need to explain. To explain why we always go to swimming lessons all together, to explain why he behaves oddly sometimes. I told him why briefly and I really wasn't prepared for the conversation that followed. His wife had breast cancer last year and is clear now but he was full of hesitancy and fear. Not in an inappropriate for a swimming lesson exchange way but in a human, you see me, I see you, way.

We're going to see Bob Dylan tomorrow night. I bought the tickets ages ago not knowing whether we would be able to go or not. To be honest, I think it is a bit borderline and I am afraid that I won't be able to manage how it goes, that we won't be able to get a taxi home and we'll be stuck in St Kilda with Gerard falling asleep in strange places. Or that something will happen during the performance. Goodness I hope not. And really there is no reason to think that will happen, he has been stable on his meds for a while now and none of the doctors have expressed concern about Gerard attending the concert. Gerard is keen so we will be giving it our best shot.

I've been in a grump since Sunday. Grace had a sleepover with possibly not enough sleep on Saturday night and then fell apart on Sunday. I was angry that it was taking up so much of my weekend and that between the wailings and the washing, I wasn't getting to my sewing and therefore wasn't addressing the current wardrobe crisis. Yesterday I bit the bullet and had an online shopping spree, figuring that only half the stuff I buy in person really works any way. So new jeans, soft black pants, some t-shirts and a bright blue linen cardigan because I am sick of wearing black and grey. I feel like such a frump, most of my clothes are at least three years old and because I don't have a big wardrobe they are also quite worn. I suppose it is quite sustainable to wear your clothes out. Other petty things I am grumpy about: the grottiness of our house and having a plan to fix it up but not having the money or the right sort of time, my inability to do basic housework or gardening tasks, not going anywhere on my own, being asked the same thing a bazillion times. Oh and the car. It looks like crap and the clutch hates me. Urgh. But I do have a craft weekend coming up that thanks to Dad and Nina I can attend! Which I am looking forward to hugely. Even if I have to go driving a pumpkin and wearing a sack cloth. Oh, and eating worms. Although seriously, the new jeans should have arrived by then. And we are having the it's been ten years, maybe it's time to replace the car conversation.

mowing the lawn

Mowed the grass for the first time in 15 years. Kind of shit job but also kind of fun.
So I mowed the grass today, which was good. We've been talking about it for a few weeks so it needed it. I haven't mowed the grass in 15 years so I suggested to Gerard that maybe he could boss me around while doing it. Quite a few people have offered to do our lawn but I think I need to do it myself at this stage. I want it to be something I am capable of doing. It started badly, Gerard was pulling weeds while I combed and snipped the dreadlocks out of Grace's hair. She looked through the bedroom window and Dad was lying on the ground. She freaked out and I rushed out, suspecting the worst. It turned out that he'd been not as strong as he'd thought and had fallen down while trying to pull a big weed out. Crisis averted.

I enjoyed pushing the lawn mower around but it stopped frequently as I don't yet have the knack. We had to wait a while before it could be started again and during one of these breaks, I was sitting with Gerard outside, and I just started crying. About whether I could be a good single parent. About how he fixed my world when he moved in; nails were removed from walls, doors were hung properly, shelves were made, hooks were put up, things weren't broken any more. Most of all I was crying about the prospect of one day losing my best friend.

Dried my eyes and went back to mowing the lawn and in the next break, Grace was all sad and we had cuddles and talked about why she was sad and about how Saturday can be a sad day because after the business of the week, there's some time and space to be sad. I don't know whether that's a good or bad thing but we have something planned for Sunday so that won't be sad too.