February 5, Bear Trap

We read recently that tomatoes and red wine are protective against cancers.  Poor Angela.  "Who has eaten more tomatoes than me?" she asked.  She did not, of course, even mention the red wine.

The great fight has slowed down considerably.  Angela's pain does not return as violently as it did only a couple of weeks ago.  She sleeps peacefully through the night, and with the most recent change in her medications, her mornings too are more bearable.  Although still compelled to nap for a few hours in the afternoons, she seems, to me at least, to have more energy.

I return home in the evenings with the groceries.  Angela hates that she cannot go for them herself.  She sometimes tears the collar from her neck and triumphantly discards it, but, soon enough, she puts it on again.  Typing still makes the tingling and numbness in her hands worse.  Her general comfort and wakefulness lasts only so long if she does not remain still.  Our bear, with more energy, finds herself, nevertheless, quite trapped.

I, myself, am torn.  I cannot say to what tragedies I have been called to in recent weeks.  It is at once a gift and a curse of my profession that I find myself at times in a position to make a difference for people in anguish.  I cannot go there though, there where people are otherwise alone, there where it it is possible to make a difference, without, to some extent, my mind being stolen.  I am a repository of terrible stories.  Angela, some days, is having to wait.  Trapped, she remains, nevertheless, wonderfully patient.  I arrive home, distracted, with the milk and the honey.  Angela, focused, is ready to help.

Regretfully, I have been unable to write on this blog before these two weeks.   I think, in retrospect, that I had been stolen away.  Joyfully, in the meantime, we have continued to watch British sit-coms.  The great fight, un-ended, has only changed rhythm.  We imagine, like us, the dragon too is torn and resting. We are all catching our breath.  In this we are aided by the many suggestions for opera and television that have been sent to us by our friends.  We are grateful not only for your suggestions but for your patience.  Our bear is not alone.  My friends, let us keep up the fight, and yes, let us be in touch.