end/start

Not long after coming back from America, I visited the haematologist to be told that I'm not going to die (prematurely), but I have to live with what I've got. I am now halfway through a testing regime, which involves 3 blood tests a week for 6 weeks; yesterday was number nine. The inside of my right elbow (my preferred blood-extraction arm) is bruised and pinpricked, so I have switched to my left elbow for a week. This arm hurts when blood is taken. My arms look like I have a drug addiction. The nurses at the lab greet me by name. I have read all the magazines on the low wooden table, and can tell you all about Sally Ridge's baby and other news from the 5-month-old glossies. In early March it's back to the hospital for more good/bad news.

I have been the recipient of several bunches of flowers and cards from J, and on Saturday night I was treated to dinner at our favourite Italian restaurant with a bottle of delicious wine (diet banished for one night). When I was buying lemons at the market on Sunday, I turned back to see Jeremy across the asphalt holding 5 tall stems of red and yellow flowers for me. They are long and thin, and about one metre tall. They look like hibiscus, but they aren't. I brighten to look at them.

If I am tired, we play 'last card' endlessly. If I have energy, we walk to the school and play 'four square' competitively. We share duties of dinner, washing, folding, entertaining. We walk, sometimes. One day we walked to Miramar. We always walk past the beach. When it rains at night, we open the window and soak in fresh air.

We have been growing lately, due to a bit of watering, lots of sun, and plenty of time spent together. We are starting to trust instincts. There is so much to do, but we are young and with time on our side. Nothing like a serious health scare to bond and bind. I have been there before, but with a different angle. This time the ending is not so final.