10th February

Some days are just way beyond sadness. I’m trying to avoid the issue by keeping busy, though it’s not that easy. So I managed my swimming exercise this morning with a surprising 28-30 lengths, but am I the only one who loses count after a while? Anyway, that was encouraging and I’m already beginning to feel stronger so that’s got to be good. My son had a day off work using up his holiday entitlement, so he’s kept me company all day researching and shopping for a replacement hard drive and wireless signal extender. I’m determined to resolve my home network problems! Yes life was much simpler with a wired LAN to various desktops around my home, but newer technology now demands wireless which persists in disconnecting. I’ll get there, but though it can be frustrating, especially when trying to media stream, it’s actually quite helpful having a little problem to distract from the larger issues I’m dealing with.

I know I’ve got to move on, to let go of Jane and say goodbye to life as I’ve known it, but my problem is that I simply don’t want to. I’m fighting my own desires all the time. I’m trying to move on, whilst my whole being groans with an intense yearning to go back to how it was. The future holds no real attraction; I can ‘see’ nothing to compare with that which I’ve lost. I really need fresh vision, a new way of seeing things, a different perspective. Somehow I need to find a way to see as God sees, a heavenly perspective. But at the moment I have blinkered vision which is not that helpful. This evening I’ve been thinking that I’d love to be back on the cancer ward, watching the chemotherapy infusion timer, praying that they wouldn’t need to move the cannula again, collecting a massive bag of drugs to take home, setting my phone reminders for the complicated drug timetable, helping with the self-injections for several days, taking careful temperature readings, reminding to self-test urine samples with accompanying colour charts to interpret the degree of liver damage… and all the rest of the horrendous detail of the cancer journey. My point is that Jane was there, and I loved looking after her. It almost feels like that was what I was made for. And now my life is empty and I don’t know why I’m here anymore. If Jane were here she’d sort me out, because she was brilliant at looking after me. I think we were totally dependent upon each other, a matching pair for sure.

Somehow, don’t ask me how, I will get through this, I will keep going and I will have the victory over the emotional distress that is so pervasive. My God is bigger than any problem I can ever face; in him is the answer to my every need. I need him to restore my life, I need to get to grips with the new and that has to be at least as engaging as the old otherwise I’ll keep reaching back. I don’t want to go forwards into any more hospital wards though, I’ll just have the good stuff please…

Psalm 23 ‘The LORD is my shepherd; I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams.’ (NLT)