Forgiveness and a cause for celebration

24th November (again- part 2)

Apart from visiting the lodge yesterday, I mentioned that we had a hospital appointment and it would be amiss of me not to cover it.

More precisely, I said we wanted to ‘kill two birds,’ as the saying goes.
A fierce defender of my wellbeing-Michelle wanted to forget the birds, chuck the stone through the nearest window and take out the sawn-off. I quickly disarmed her, (metaphorically speaking- you understand, before anyone calls the police) and said I would do all the talking.

We had booked an appointment to see the nurse who had delivered the terrible news- twice, on my Black Friday-Armistice day.
I decided that forgiveness was the way forward. Michelle, not so certain.
I didn’t want to have the conversation over the phone. That was too easy.

I wanted to carefully explain what happened; my every thought and feeling, so it would not happen again to others and close the chapter on it. I wanted to look into the poor Nurse’s eyes, and register that the matter was now closed. We took our ringside seats.
In recounting her version of events I noted, with not a little irritation, she said “I have apologised to you.”

Oddly, she was not looking at me, but Michelle. Perhaps fearing she might at any minute produce the derringer, strapped to her inner thigh. Summoning all the self-control of a patient, trying to book an appointment with the doctor- this side of Christmas, Michelle looked at the floor.
Not in person, I thought; No “I’m sorry!”
I didn’t flinch and gave my full account of the story; My rejoicing at the news, and the hammer-blow of worse news later, after I’d told everyone. My coffee with my daughter. Telling my son.
She was a tough nut to crack.
Eventually, she looked me in the eye and said “I am sorry.” Her eyes, this time, confirming her words.
I told her that she must have been worried herself and that I had not intended her to suffer. That I accepted her apology, forgave her and that we should completely forget about it and move on. It was finished.
I hope and think we were both better for the experience. And Michelle too.
Before leaving, the Nurse gave me a letter from the Oncologist. The first chink of light; My PSA had dropped from 112 to 42.2. This was ‘excellent news,’ said the letter. We thought so too.

My sister-in-law, Sarah, happened to be in hospital again, just upstairs on a ward.
This time an operation to straighten her foot.
Sarah is an inspiration and seasoned campaigner. Her brilliant and compassionate surgeon, describes her as his most challenging patient.
Like painting the Forth bridge, the repairs to Sarah’s body are a never-ending task.
Attacked by severe arthritis since her twenties, now nearing the half-century, she has battled, fought, scratched and scraped her battered and bruised body through countless major operations.
Hips, feet, hands, neck; even her spine has had to be underpinned, twice.
The last operation on it, so serious, that it had to be stopped half way through. A mere ten hours.
That in itself is incredible. When you realise her post-operative recovery is done without the aid of morphine, to which she has a violent allergy, it is all the more miraculous.
That someone should suffer this affliction is cruel enough, one would think.
If any of us should worry about pain, in whatever shape or form; Sarah has been there, done it and worn the T-shirt.

But Sarah counters this with a fortitude and spirit of Biblical proportions.

‘Hard as nails,’ I describe her. And what is more, she loves three things; Her extended family and friends, to laugh, and hot-weather holidays.

That she could manage a pained grimace, is a marvel. Sarah laughs with gusto. With her eyes full of tears, reckless to the risk she might fracture another rib. She has a great sense of humour. If she could throw back her head to laugh, she surely would- but for the ironmongery holding it in place.

Her focus of recovery, as always, is the promise of the Tenerife sun, bouncing once more of her exposed flesh; A glass of wine and a laugh with her friends.

We visit Sarah for a hour or so, taking over the baton from my father-in-law, Grahame. He has a list of jobs in preparation for the latest homecoming. A veteran of throat-cancer himself, he is always busy doing something.

My Son rang; a welcome interruption. He spoke to Sarah on loudspeaker-unable to hold the phone to her ear, and she brightened again. The Sun, breaking cover from behind a cloud outside.

Michelle leaned in, keenly lapping-up every word. “He sounded bright don’t you think?” She said hopefully. We agreed. Life is never easy and the trials of teenagers are no exception to the rule.

We chatted easily. Laughed together -then, realising the time we said, “see you later!”