November 27, The Beach

Angela has been here in Springbrook for the weekend.  I went to Toronto yesterday to empty our apartment which we have managed to rent out for December 1st.  I thought I could get in late and out early, but nothing in this move worked as I expected.  Many hours late on my return, fate and circumstance have made a fool of me again.  Nevertheless, our apartment is now empty, and there is a feeling that a chapter in our life together has been interrupted.

I am happy to find Angela appearing quite well on my return.  Her couch, well appointed with pillows, is positioned squarely in front of the fireplace.  She had me relocate many of the ornaments of this room to more distant places of the house.  These were primarily the figurines and images of domesticated and grass-eating animals.   There were more of them in this room than I had previously been aware of, but, with care, I was able to find respectable places for all of them, elsewhere.  Here, around the hearth, is where the bear is resting.  This is no place for hens or gazelles.  In their place, we now have some Inuit art: graceful, dancing, beautiful, and vicious men, spirits, and bears, each shaped out of stones and bones.  I find Angela protected, quiet, and restful.

This serenity is owing, in part, to two days now without treatments during which mounting side effects do seem to plateau or abate.  Still, in the general course of things, moments of anguish are more intense.  Swallowing, in particular, is becoming a problem.  Through sobs yesterday, when I found her agitated in the very early morning, she insisted she would not swallow any more medication.   It was still dark, and Angela was crazy.  "How can music exist?" she asked.   I was crazy too, but together, we did well.  We found that a mortar and pestle, even at 5 a.m., still crush medications quite adequately.  We also found that warm milk added to an egg that has been stirred with honey, still, just as her grandmother had advised her, both soothes an ailing throat, and tastes okay.

I am glad to say that we are, for the most part, finding "solutions," such that serenity, and even good cheer, still dominate in our home.  I can relay that after our moment of anguish yesterday morning Angela  slept most peacefully.  She woke to describe a dream in which she was learning to swim.  Afraid, she was being reassured by her instructor that she would be okay.  He would let her go, but she would be okay.  Angela was delighted upon waking to say that, with her instructors care, she soon felt very safe.  She was ready to swim, but, nevertheless, he did not let go.  I, of course, was completely delighted to hear this, and to know that in this dream the instructor was me.  Later, with the bear lying on the couch, we listened to music from a Mahler opera.

This evening we are continuing with milk, egg, and honey.  I will bring Angela to Kingston in the morning to resume her treatments.  I'm in Belleville during the day, Kingston tomorrow night, then back to Belleville, Springbrook, Bankroft, and so on.  On these travels I, like Angela, am comforted in the knowledge that we are held in mind by so many friends with whom...we will be in touch.