I must say, I have been loving the Autumn, but when I went out this afternoon, not only dud my scarf come out, but my winter coat as well.
I like the winter. I love the summer when you can spend days outside, eating fruit with the warmth of the sun on your skin, but winter, has that crips chill to the air. Although, I hate rain, it makes everywhere look dark and miserable, winter has the perfect weather for breathing in. The coolness, keeps my throat playing nicely and the damp makes it easier to cough. My peak flows have actually risen a little in the last couple of days, a very good sign.
Mum finished radiotherapy today, which is great, though for some reason yesterday and today she has been very moody, to the point, my dad and I are staying out the way. He wouldnt bring her moods up, as her husband i guess he cant, but if I grumble along to him, he does let it out a little, which I think is a good thing. Everyone is always, oh your mum needs support through cancer, but it is my dad I worry about. I do hope I get to pay him back at some point for all the stress he has been through. He really needs a knee replacement, but its just not practical at the moment.
So we go back to the chemo doc next week,for mum to decide if she is going to keep on with the chemo. It probably sounds horrible, but I hope that she dosnt. More for her sake. I do mean well.
It is also now starting to feel christmasy. Everywhere has the decs up and the films are starting on tv. Though, I did have to laugh at the decorations in my local the other day.
Its strange how your mind can deal with things. For so long after my transplant and time in hospital, I remembered very little of what happened, or I would remember very small facts,but nothing vividly. Recently though, some memories have been coming back.
When I was stabbed, it was the beginning of December, so most places were getting in the festive spirit and work had put their tree up. I was also make plans for Christmas dinner and presents that I needed to get. I knew christmas was fast approaching.
I was scared when I was in hospital, I had never been in hospital before and to suddenly be in A&E and then ICU, my mind didnt have a clue what was going on. I was also heavily sedated and in liver failure, so they could also have caused this bit. But I remember feeling safe. I knew things were not good, its hard to describe, but I felt relaxed. Kinda how I imagine a child feels when they gaze up at the christmas their first year of seeing it for what it is. I looked around me and I was lying on a comfy sofa, covered with a big thick patchwork quilt in red and green and stitched with gold thread. The room I was in, was a lot like my nans house. Same sort of layout and decor, but at the end of the sofa was a huge tree, that would never have fitted in my nans house. It was lit with twinkly lights and I could faintly hear music in the background. Bustling about in the same room was a short plump lady, wearing a long skirt and a white piney and mop cap. Looking at her I could tell she was old, but watching her she had the speed and heart of a younger person. She had a very kind smile and I remember her telling me many times, to relax, sleep, things were going to be ok, that she was looking after me. I felt all warm and fuzzy. I can still remember the feeling, though it is near impossible to put into words. She introduced herself at one point, as Mrs Christmas, or Mrs Claus for short. She was a great comfort to me for a while when I was first admitted. Of course, I have no real sense of time when I was in hospital and so I have no idea where that part fits in, but I do think it was near the beginning.
The following year, when I went back to ICU to take presents for the staff, mum says that I apparently told her that one of the short plump nurses, was Mrs Claus. Its strange what your mind remembers and when, but I often do get the whole image in my mind again, in such detail it is as if it happened yesterday. I guess the mind can be such a wonderful thing.
Though, I do wonder what other connections are there. Why it felt like my Nans house. Though, I am guessing around the same sort of time, my nan did phone my mum and tell her everything was going to be alright, because she had made a deal with someone, and she was trading her life for mine. I was going to live, and once I was back on my feet, she would pass away. I miss my Nan, especially at Christmas, but i hate the family tradition of going out of the way to put flowers and things on her stone in the cemetery. If my Nan were alive, she would berate everyone for doing it, tell them to stop being ridiculous, get home in the warm with your family and spend the money on something you will all enjoy, not flowers that no one will ever see.
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