Another day over

Today promised so much, but sadly did not deliver.  Macmai woke well, seemingly not in a post chemo lull so we went out to breakfast at a delightful local bakery, in  a beautiful sandstone building, that was once a prison.  Sadly chemo decided no meal today,  disappointing as last time it was such an enjoyable experience.  Doubly sad as we heard our favourite chef's tale of her marriage breakup and the destruction of a lifetime's work and rending apart of a family,  all for a summer of madness, which no doubt will be followed by regret. So no more duck for Christmas. 

One of the really difficult things about this illness is the tiredness and that somehow even all those many hours of rest and sleep give little benefit.  It is also very deceiving as one believes one can achieve so much and one wants to do all these things and then fatigue overcomes one. I sit and knit whilst sleep and opioids overtake my man, a waistcoat nearly completed.  We bought the wool in Adelaide, when we were away. I don't want to think it was our last away. There are great wool shops in the colder southern states.  I can spend hours browsing and feeling wool, such a tactile medium. The shops are all colour and texture and possibilities for new projects, the stuff that dreams are made of.

 He is not up at present much now so the big jigsaw, an earlier project,  remains unfinished by his chair for when he returns. The big, yet to be filled sky is too much to be tackled alone, especially when progress is slow.  All those blues with bits of white cloud look much the same. And looking at it I am reminded of oft used analogy of how drugs and receptors work. So much a part of my life's work.

In the quietness of the day, when the packs for work were checked I wandered out into the garden with the camera for even though the day is wintery  and overcast the flowers are bright.  There are red Guzmania bromeliads  flowering right through out the garden. Named after A Spanish naturalist Anastatsio Guzman who died in 1807, whilst on an expedition in Ecuador. How intrepid were those men to venture out into the unknown.  In another time and space Macmai would have been one of those, ever interested in the new and unknown and always adventurous. He would have enjoyed life as an 18th century man, but he has often said not the smell of that century.