Drawn by a Star

Life beyond chemo! I went to market this morning to buy organic strawberries and to  find a model.  I was too late for the strawberries but witnessed the following scene at the organic veggie stall. I meet a friend with her dog and I draw her attention to the rye bread that’s being sold for the first time at this stall. The seller is young, pretty with darting dark eyes. There are tiny tasters: wee slices of thin dark brown bread on top of which sit trianglar slices of fresh goats cheese.  Yum.  We taste, and my friend accidently  tips the plate onto the ground.  The cheese and bread hit the road.  No pasenada.  The girl is not bothered. I ask if I can buy half a loaf.   No, sorry, she says firmly. Actually, I don’t think she said sorry! I’m aware of a young, bearded man standing close by.  He’s French.  He shows the pretty young woman two 20c coins. They sit in the palm of his outstretched hand.   He talks...

You are a wonderful team ! Last day of chemo after 7 months. Such a touching goodbye with the four nurses, Reyes, Maika, Rocio and Maria J who run the day hospital. 3 of these four women are ex intensive care nurses, and are so professional and attentive they immediately inspired confidence. Rocio was instrumental is changing my oncologist to the lady doctor. She made that easy and did not criticise my decision. My parting gift to this wonderful team was the vase of flowers with a thank you hand written on the front, filled with flowers from Kay’s garden. Unfortunately the group goodbye I had envisioned didn’t happen! The .lovely Maria Jose Just before my session finished, an elderly man had a heart attack 5 feet away from me, behind a screened cubicle. The staff leapt into action. My companion in the next chair who told me what was happening -she could see everything- luckily was wrong. The heart attack turned out to be a losing of consciousness, and after a doc was...

Another hospital adventure this morning with Merche’s husband Javi. The appointment  is  for 9.30.  We leave Orgiva at 8am. We both yawn a lot as we approach Granada.  The snow-capped Sierras are magnificent.  My heart always soars at the sight of these mountains.  It’s a bit chilly though.  I wearing 4 layers, just in case. Javi drops me outside the clinic and disappears to find a free parking place.  I sit in the entrance area, and de repente- love this phrase ( suddenly and without warning)- a very extraordinary thing happens.  I’m visited by an angel.  Yes.  Honestly.  A large, plump, middle aged  angel clutching a pile of official hospital notebooks.  Not  files.  Notebooks. 'What a lovely smile you have,' she says to me.  'Where are you from?' I laugh.  She  laughs. ' Ireland,' I say.  Ah Ireland!’ she sighs.  I don’t remember what she said  for the next 5 ...

The following are  messages posted to my Facebook friends last week, additions and after thoughts will follow in the next blog. 4 days of poetry in the Lecrin Valley, 7th - 11th April,  surrounded by orange and lemon trees. Will I be able to stay the pace ?    The landscape  was cloaked in mist most of the time I was there.  Another metaphor for not really being clear why I had come.  Why was I so irresistibly drawn there?   I couldn’t answer that questions, but  Rainer Maria Rilke could !  ‘Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experi...

After a sleepless night, I found the courage to ask busy Reyes (the head nurse) for advice on changing my oncologist. He and I don’t click I told her. That’s putting it mildly. I must not harbour any negative thoughts or judgements in this healing journey. I know that.  In the middle of the night, I'd realised I really did not like this man. Reyes said she’d talk to Rocio, the senior nurse for admin. I told them  how he had given me no hope, how his words and raised eyebrows  had huanted me for 4 months. Are you telling me I'm not going to get better I had asked him during our first meeting.  His eyebrows had  moved towards his hiarline, and his mouth  had remained closed.  What I need is  support I told Reyes, like the lady oncologist seems to give in bucketful’s. I told Rocio about my work with disadvantaged  children in Bolivia and Peru. I said I'm not finsihed with that yet.  I thought she was going to cry. An hour...

There's no such thing as a usual chemo day. Today, in the hospital, it was a  kind of a bland, lacklustre experience!  But it started with a great laugh. The head nurse Reyes first job was to insert a tiny little tube into my chest, where deep down lives a small metal implant, a 'resevorio,' into which the chemo enters a large vein. Mine is  exceptionally hard to  find. Two student nurses gather around Reyes to watch, and Rocio, the senior admin nurse, arrives I think to witness or to help if things go wrong. This all happens in a little curtained off cubicle.  Everybody in the ward of course can hear, if they want to.  Most do. 'Push the chair (a blue reclining chair) back,' orders Reyes . Wham. Suddenly I’m flat on my back. My head seems to bounce at least twice! 'MADREEEE MIAAAAA,' I exclaim. I wasn’t expecting that! Everybody laughs. Reyes says, 'shut your eyes.'  Rocio says, 'pretend to sleep!'  The two trainee nurses g...

    Yesterday I witnessed a beautiful little exchange in our local, back street, book and stationary shop. Not so long ago this shop changed hands. The new owners are a friendly young couple.     A pretty nine year old girl with long blond wispy hair wearing denim dungarees whose straps were falling off both shoulders, clutched her tiny tapestry purse, and asked for 18 pencils. The 20 something year old owner of the shop smiled at the child ,disappeared, and returned with a box of HB lead pencils. She carefully counted 18, and handed them over the glass counter.     The little foreigner wriggled her whole body, grinned, and said, ‘coloured ! ’     I wondered what you were going to do with 18 lead pencils said the petite shopkeeper with a huge smile.     Disappearing again she returned with a box of 18 coloured pencils, and handed them over the counter. Under the glass was what I was waiting...