Skip to main content

So near and yet SO far...

Driving around, trying to listen to my intuition in a foreign country, in an unfamiliar car, on the wrong side of the road, without a comprehensive map and no command of the language raised a few concerns when we had been searching the same stretch of road for what seemed like a while.
Something inside told me that we were closer than we thought, and we must have passed the same group of men working on the short stretch of road 3 times in one direction, and twice travelling in the other.  They had no idea where we were bound, what we were looking for, and did not speak English.
We attempted to approach from the highway from either direction, to no avail.  The directions didn’t speak to us, and we were left with little more than our instincts, which by this time, were pretty drained.

Our spirits were lifted having identified the right junction, the right road but which direction.  My handwritten notes, enthusiastically scribbled when it all seemed so straightforward as I was taken through them, over the phone, whilst still in the safe surroundings of the UK, no longer seemed worth the scrap of paper on which they were scrawled, the map seemed laughable and a comfortable welcome a long way off yet. 
We had no alternative but to continue.  Two heads better than one, four eyes better than two, and we had at least tuned in to a half decent radio station which was providing familiar tunes when they were most needed.

Turning back yet again, trying to bring fresh eyes to the now frustratingly recognisable scenery, and crossing the river whose name we will never forget, I became aware of a sign.  A small, handwritten sign, at about knee height, with the all important initials of the resort we were so desperate to discover...  We had driven so close to this over an hour ago, but had turned around believing ourselves to have made a wrong turn. 








Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Table. Apple. Penny.

Whilst there were several places I might have been that morning, I wouldn't have been anywhere else.  The practitioner from the Memory Service arrived promptly.  I liked her instantly.    Mum was nervous.  I think I was a little, too.  It's been a difficult year.   "It's Friday, it's the fourteenth of December and I'm at home..."   No problems there.  CAMCOG, or the Cambridge Cognitive Examination is a thorough assessment tool used to assess the extent of extent of dementia, and to assess the level of cognitive impairment.  The standardised  measure assesses orientation, language, memory, praxis, attention, abstract thinking, perception and calculation.    "Table.  Apple.  Penny."   Three everyday items that were introduced at one point, and then referred to again later on.  Again, Mum was able to recall each.      I am reminded that the...

Glass half full? Glass half empty? Or perhaps the glass is broken

I am, constitutionally, a glass half empty gal.  I will always first acknowledge what I don't have, what I have lost, and what it is that I am seeking.  I tend to overlook my strengths, concentrating only on those bits of me that are underdeveloped or weak.  I refer to myself as a realist, but in doing so compliment myself and insult those who genuinely are simply realistic.  My modus operandi is to identify what's not working and acknowledge this before seeing more clearly what functions perfectly well.  This has its place: I edit others' written work pretty well.  My fastidious attention to detail serves me, and the author.  Accuracy counts, for me and I have an excellent memory.  I can remember a great many of my sessions with clients verbatim.  Even this asset is something I can, and do, diminish the true value of, by concentrating on 'I should have said...' or 'why didn't....  occur to me during the session?' Earlier this we...

Pausing in the sunshine

And so, chemo is over.  My best friend's diary has been chocker...  Line cleans, blood tests, scans and 18 weekly doses of the gruelling treatment itself.  Summer seems at last to have arrived and with it, we hope, some time, peace and space. She is, we acknowledged over a rather yummy luncheon served to us beneath the beautiful canopy of creepers and climbers at Petersham Nurseries, an inspiration. A small group of us gathered to celebrate her forthcoming marriage.  The sun's rays joined the warmth we all have for this very special woman.  Warmth and, in my case at least, pride. It is the greatest privilege to call this woman my best friend.  She continues to epitomise my understanding of grace.  Our bodies are fragile things.  Our minds are frailer still.  In her composure and wisdom, she possesses an outlook I can only aspire to adopt.  From you, dear Charlotte, I learn and I learn and I learn.   The ...