Drawn by a Star

Feliz sábado amig@s .  It's Día de Andalucía ! It’s been another amazing day. It's been a  cake, chat, and choto day.  What's a c hoto?   A choto is a baby goat in Spanish.  At the end of each day, well almost every day,  I like to remember one outstanding thing that has touched my heart, and use it as a  spring board, a mantra for the next day.  A few days ago the trigger was  hearing the Jesuit intention to 'be alive to the present.' To be fully alive to the present moment takes me from auto pilot, to following the inner compass, to being drawn by my star.  Challenging, 'cos it's so easy to forget good intentions, especially when  bad news  get stuck to every cell in your being. So, today it’s been a day about delicious cakes, very sad news, baby goats, and more. All of these have rocked the inner GPS.  Which one  will make tomorrows...

  I’m learning a lot about Grace, and Kindness.   This morning at 6.30am, we left my house and arrived an hour later at San Cecilio hospital in Granada. I thought I was going for an X-ray for a throat condition, but it turned out to be a bit of an endurance test, with some  moments of pure pantomime, and unexpected  joy.   First was the blood test in the hospital basement at 8am, well, 8.30 actually. We  waited an hour. The Spanish have a strong sense of right and  wrong when it comes to queueing, and if somebody jumps the  queue, as a woman did, they don’t actually challenge them, but they don’t like it.  This little bit of questionable  behaviour  brought  about an instant unity, black humour, and the most  wonderful range of facial gestures amongst those of  us waiting.  People showed their true colours. Eyebrows shot up and down.  Javier and I are about number 10 in the queue....

  Hoy, por primera vez, iré yo sola a Motril para la quimioterapia. Merche no puede acompañarme porque tiene compromisos familiares. ¿Puedo hacer esto yo sola? ¡Sí puedo! 6.30h. Suena la alarma.   A las 7h conduzco hacia Motril envuelta en una completa oscuridad, ráfagas de lluvia, truenos y relámpagos espectaculares. Tengo el corazón en la boca cuando el coche de atrás decide prácticamente engancharse al parachoques. Imagínate una carretera con muchas curvas, esculpida en la ladera de una montaña, normalmente vacía durante kilómetros.  Hay un precipicio enorme a mi derecha, por el lado en el que estoy conduciendo, y un coche pegado a un metro detrás de mí durante todo el camino.   8.05h. Soy la primera en llegar al hospital de Día. Vuelven a hacerme el análisis de sangre para ver si mi sangre es capaz de aguantar la quimioterapia, la semana pasada no lo era. Me dicen que el análisis de sangre de ayer en Órgiva fue un desastre.   A las 9.30h ...

Today, I'm going for my first chemo session on my own . The day will start with a 45 minute drive from the mountains to the coast, here in  Andalucía, Spain.  This land has been my home for the last 18 years. Today will be chemo  session number 6! Merche, my faithful young Spanish friend who has been me from the start of  this journey, driving me, then sitting beside me at every session (every 15 days), is out of action because of family commitments. Can do this alone now? Yes of course I can. Si puedo! Hmmm.  Let’s see. 6.30am the alarm goes. At 7am I drive to Motril in pitch darkness, lashing rain, thunder and spectacular lightening. My heart is in my mouth as the  car behind me decides to practically attach itself to my bumper. Picture a very bendy road cut into sheer mountainside, mostly with no passing  for many kms, and huge drop on the right hand side, the side I’m driving on. 8.05am. I’m the first to arrive ...