A couple of weekends ago Mum and I went to watch a live link up to the Metroplitan in New York. We went to see a performance of The Tempest by Thomas Adès. It's an amazing thing to see opera being performed live from half-way across the world. It's not as good as being there, but it's the next best thing.
During the interval we perused the up-coming performance schedule ... decided to book tickets for Les Troyens (Berlioz) in January. Then I spotted the fact that they are showing Handel's Giulio Cesare towards the end of April. "Shall I get us tickets" I said. "Oh I don't think so, do you?" said Mum.
Sometimes I allow myself to forget that time is ticking on, and that for Mum time has a different kind of meaning these days. Her health is crumbling in that seemingly unstoppable way that is the way with cancer. Her liver function is on the slide as the cancer progresses. She sleeps up to 18 hours some days and is tired all the time. Oh and soooo sick and weak, poor thing.
I remember Renee saying F.U.C.K. cancer and I can only echo those words. I hate seeing what it does, and I hate the fact that in some ways the treatment is worse than nothing being done. Several times recently Mum has talked of ceasing treatment altogether and I can see her point. I respect her right to choose but I can't help but to selfishly wish that she will choose to stay with us for as long as possible.
I wonder how I will cope as time marches on. I try not to dwell on what is to come but not altogether successfully. In the meantime I try to focus on the present. We are talking more and chatting less. Even though I cried in front of her the other day (still a HUGE no-no in our relationship), we are mending what can be mended. This is not a race against time. I refuse to see it that way. No, not as a way of denying what is going on, but I don't want to act with fear as my main source of motivation. This is just me and mum finding new ways to express our love for one another.
The end of October rolled around recently and so I celebrated my second year of sobriety. Sometimes I feel like I am not me any more. And then I remember what being me was like when I was trapped in my drinking days. Even the toughest days now are better than those dark times. I am still plagued by deep deep feelings of shame and remorse about the past and I think that is how it should be. Not because I enjoy feeling that way but because my moral compass is just functioning as it should. I cannot change what is done but I am working on making my amends. I am so grateful to be here NOW.
