I may have mentioned before the reason for the name of my blog. Bear with me if I’m becoming repetitious. It’s not old age so much as stress... I hope. I’m writing in the rain because Rod has been heading for a stem cell transplant since I set this blog up last year, but right now the blog should be called ‘writing in a downpour’.
This week has been grim. Rod has been on morphine most of the time. Visiting times have consisted of me sitting staring at him... but yesterday when I arrived he was sitting up sipping a cup of tea. He asked normal questions like ‘Has the Bank Statement arrived?’ It was brilliant. He’s not through the worst quite yet. They’re concerned about his kidneys and he may have to go onto dialysis for a few days but he’s talking and thinking. He’s more like my Rod.
I’m feeling overloaded at the moment. I’d like to wrap myself in fluffy pink candy floss and not have to face the world but it looks like the world needs me. Josh-the-dog had his stitches out on Thursday after a lump (a nasty one as it turned out) was removed from his thigh. It’s healing well at the moment but he’s still consigned to the bucket when I go out and at bedtimes because he wants to pick the last few scabs off. You can’t blame him. There’s something irresistible about a crunchy, black scab. But he’s happy and eating and roaring round the park after his ball so fingers crossed...
What’s more I am truly writing this in a downpour, not just my metaphorical one. I now know why my dog-walking coat is called shower-proof and not water-proof. It’s a horrible feeling when icy rain trickles down your back. Still, at least the weather has provided me with one positive. I’ve not got to water the garden while Rod’s in hospital. In fact, it’s all looking green and lush and I know he’ll be delighted when he’s sitting right here looking at it... and so will I.