Sunday, 15 August 2010

...and now I’m writing in a downpour

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.


  1. Rosalind, you have so much courage. You just seem to keep on going through all of this. I'm honoured to be reading your story as it unfolds. Best wishes to you and hubby, and I hope the rain (in all guises) lets up soon.

  2. I'd love to wrap you up in that fluffy pink candy floss and take all the pain and worry away. Stay with it Ros and sit tight the day will come when Rod is sitting there with you, looking out onto that lush green garden. The storm will come to an end and...... it will stop raining. Quoting from one of my favourite musicals: "At the end of the storm there's a Golden Sky..........." and all the rest of the words. So, keep positive, keep walking with that hope and belief in your heart. Thinking of you all and sending lots of love. x x x

  3. I just can't imagine what it must be like to be dealing with that on a daily basis. Much love to you and Rod.

  4. Forgive the tears, but I just want to hug you and help you with all you are having to shoulder. Yet despite all you are having to cope with, you still make us smile with your humour. You are remarkable. I can't imagine what you are going through, but we are all close by thinking of you and Rod.

    I am sending you our weather, there is no rain and hasn't been for months, lots of blue sky and sunshine, half for you and half for your Rob. I hope it will take the dark clouds away.

    Thank you for sharing all of this with us.
    Fluffy pink candy floss hugs.
    Pauline the way our two doggies send big licks to your Josh...and a woof woof get well wishes!

  5. So glad Rod and Josh are moving forward. You're going through so much right now - I wish I could help. Sending happy, healing thoughts your way.

  6. Hi Kerryn and thanks.

    Thank you, Pauline. The blue sky has arrived overhead. Waiting for it to permeate Rod's hospital walls. Josh says woof woof back. He's full of food, all walked out and happily sleeping.

  7. Thanks Merrilee but it's not courage. It's a mixture of necessity and Beta Blockers I'm afraid.

  8. Hi Rifka and thanks so much. I'm waiting for that sweet silver song of the lark. Don't know if you remember but I was obsessed with that song when we were teenagers.

  9. Thanks Jemi, it's good to know that there are people out there rooting for us.

  10. Julie Bradshaw16 Aug 2010, 15:16:00

    Good news - the morphine stage is horrendous. sitting up and talking sounds pretty positive to me. Just keep holding on one day at a time - there really isn't any alternative is there. Love and thoughts, Julie x

  11. I did wonder what your blog title meant, I thought it was that where you lived it rained a lot. I wish that were all it meant. So sorry for all this, and I surely hope Rod improves by leaps and bounds daily.


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