Hello all,
Today it is a real effort for me to post! Feeling unbelievably tired and nauseous still. But just about managed to do my work from home before going off this afternoon to St Thomas’ to get second inflation of implant. It is really beginning to get some shape back, and have been told to expect about four more fills until there is enough skin stretch for perm implant to go in at the end of rads. I met someone in the waiting room from the same chemo clinic as me - she is a few weeks ahead, but was really ill on her second cycle. She got an infection, had to have a tooth removed and had a very low platelet count. Still she is recovering now. Makes me realise, how lucky I was the first time round, and how potent the drugs are that we’ve all been taking.
When I was walking through the underground passage at Waterloo Station - I saw this poem painted on the wall. Apparently it was specially commissioned for the trains and the tunnel. Thought I’d share with you here. I really like it.
Eurydice…
I am not afraid as I descend,
step by step, leaving behind the salt wind
blowing up the corrugated river,
the damp city streets, their sodium glare
of rush-hour headlights pitted with pearls of rain;
for my eyes still reflect the half remembered moon.
Already your face recedes beneath the station clock,
a damp smudge among the shadows
mirrored in the train’s wet glass,
will you forget me? Steel tracks lead you out
past cranes and crematoria,
boat yards and bike sheds, ruby shards
of roman glass and wolf-bone mummified in mud,
the rows of curtained windows like eyelids
heavy with sleep, to the city’s green edge.
Now I stop my ears with wax, hold fast
the memory of the song you once whispered in my ear.
Its echoes tangle like briars in my thick hair.
You turned to look.
Second fly past like birds.
My hands grow cold. I am ice and cloud.
This path unravels.
Deep in hidden rooms filled with dust
and sour night-breath the lost city is sleeping.
Above the hurt sky is weeping,
soaked nightingales have ceased to sing.
Dusk has come early. I am drowning in blue.
I dream of a green garden
where the sun feathers my face
like your once eager kiss.
Soon, soon I will climb
from this blackened earth
into the diffident light.
So good to read from you Shelly and to see that you are coming through this. Much luck for tomorrow for your pathology report.
Tinned tomatoes on toast: another novel recipe Caron. We’ve got chicken tonight stuffed with pears. Should have eaten it last night -but could not quite face it.
Hope everyone has a good evening.
Love Bright x