WIDE AWAKE

It's 4am and it's raining.
It's such an rare, unusual sound that my brain is awake enjoying every moment.
At this hour most "normal" brains are resting, but not mine.

We are back in our home town for rest and recuperation. Unfortunately the surgery was not one hundred percent successful so there will be more to come. But not for now. Now we enjoy sleeping in our own beds, we catch up with friends and we just enjoy being together. It's nice to have all four of us back under this roof.

But it's not all " nice". In six weeks I seem to have forgotten how to live. I get asked what's for dinner and I feel shocked. Here there are no cafeterias. Here I need to cook. That means I need to buy food. That means I need to push a trolley around a supermarket. It's what normal people do. I have forgotten because it's been six weeks.

Shopping takes ages. People stop and inquire about both girls. They're being nice but it's uncomfortable, especially when they insist on sharing their own health woes. Why do they do that? Why would anyone think that we really want to know about their distant cousin who suffers from a similar ailment? I've forgotten my social niceties so I move on.

It's Easter.
We attempt to go to mass but the huge crowd is too much for the FED and we last five minutes. I am quite familiar with that claustrophobic feeling post surgery so I say nothing. We leave the husband and the FYD to pray for us all, and we go in search of coffee. After a six week stint around hospitals I have to admit my caffeine addiction is out of control.

The truth is if you drink coffee you don't have to speak. Which is good really because some people have forgotten how to speak to us. It's the same as when I had breast cancer. Some people have no idea what to say to you so they either avoid you or they spend time with you and say nothing. I try to explain to the FED that not everyone handles stuff as well as we do and we need to be understanding. She gets it. I'm not actually sure I do but the words tumble out regardless.

I met one of my old colleagues. She joked that she'd forgotten what I look like. It's not a joke really. Its almost ten months since I stood in front of a classroom. Its almost ten months since the FED's saga began. It feels like yesterday.

My youngest daughter returns to the city leaving a huge gaping hole in our family. She is loud, dramatic and full of life and I miss her terribly... as do the other two. But life goes on.

Its 5am, Anzac Day and its still raining.
My brain decides it wants to sleep.
Finally.


Till next time xxx