Post 117: Old cars and smiling faces.
When you wake up and feel as if all the pain is gone, it might just be because it is all gone – so, rejoice.
———
The last three nights of sleep have changed my world completely.
Gone are the memories of a corset of throbbing pain and aches all over my back and shoulders – gone for now, gone and good riddance!
The morphine has been the catalyst for this change, and the fear I once had for it has transformed into respect and praise.
My Darling came down after another good night of sleep with a tired look and a half-smile that wasn’t quite ready to expand into a full morning greeting. Autopilot can only get you so far in this world and, bless her, she just wasn’t ready yet.
She topped up my refrigerated overnight oats with strawberries and freshly cut yellow-orange mango and handed it to me as I caught up on a few WhatsApp messages from Big Sis.
“Hey Darling, look at this – our Volvo pals D & G are parked up a few rows behind Big Sis and Bro-in-law’s Rover at the local car show!”
Although the day started gloomy, I was excited to think that friends were nearby doing something I should be doing too – attending a car show and enjoying a welcome break from the norm.
I’d given up on this summer’s shows and meet-ups due to the chemo, but that didn’t stop me wanting to go.
Feeling stir-crazy after being stuck indoors for over two weeks, and now technically fit and well with the pain gone, I realised escape was possible – if we both wanted it.
I munched away at the healthy bowl of fibre and fructose while suffering a horrid sudoku that was testing my patience. It was around 11 a.m. when my Darling uttered an uncharacteristic phrase that sparked interest and desire: (not that kind of desire 
)
“I’m only going to ask you this once,” she said in a relaxed, slightly mischievous tone.
My mind was still locked on the sudoku but flickered instantly to the nearby recreation ground with all those classic cars.
“Go on,” I replied cautiously.
“Do you want to go to the car show?”
Before she’d finished the question, I’d jumped up and said a firm and delighted, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
I hugged her on the way past, discarded the frustrating sudoku on the kitchen table, and rushed upstairs to change – just in case the “wind changed” or I woke up and it had all been a dream.
A day out? Crikey, yes – let’s go!
I don’t think she was ready for that response. Truthfully, neither was I.
I grabbed a fold-up chair, my pills, water, a rug, and packed it all into a backpack (a pet the chair obviously 
). Threw on some acceptable clothing (Volvo T-shirt, naturally), got the nod of approval from Management, grabbed the car keys, and left the house – leaving my Darling bobbing around in my wake.
I was elated at the idea of catching up with my Volvo pals and seeing Big Sis and Bro-in-law.
It was a dull and blustery day, so I half-expected some exhibitors to pack up early, worried about their pride and joy getting wet – but thankfully, the rain held off.
At the narrow access road leading to the showground, marshals were doing their best to assist silly early leavers trying to navigate past latecomers like us. Although the show had only been going for a couple of hours, some folks were already causing village-lane-chaos with their comings and goings.
Eventually, we reached the quieter public car park, where I parked and braced myself for the walk and talk – hoping I could manage a couple of hours upright before my back insisted on returning home.
Everything, as ever, depended on Nurse Darling’s professional assessment.
The parking field was rough-cut and ready to trip the unsuspecting, but I had only one intention: find my friends.
The cars are lovely, of course – but it’s the people I’ve mostly come to see.
We made our way across the well trodden path toward the recreation ground, where a sight to behold awaited: lines of cars, beautifully polished and arranged by era, surrounded by food stalls and smiling visitors.
I looked for a light blue Amazon and rang Big Sis after searching but failing to spot it. Her voice – always loud – cranked up a notch when she realised I was there. A big surprise and a great response.
We met, hugged (as only a Big Sis can hug), and she pointed us in the direction of the light-blue Amazon and our friends D & G. On the way, I spotted another very familiar Amazon and texted its owner – another Volvo pal, P – who later joined us to reminisce about our old plans (now scuppered) for a future convoy to Gothenburg, the Oresund Bridge crossing, and our visit to the wold class “new” Volvo Museum.
D & G were relaxing behind their stunning car when we bowled in, inelegant and excited. My Darling had never met them, as she was always working when I saw them before, but the catch-up was lovely.
We’re meeting again later this week, albeit for a sad occasion – a memorial for dear Audrey Old, the local Amazon club stalwart who recently passed away. A real character, and of great age (though no one knows quite how great).
With smiles and warmth, we said our goodbyes after a long chat and wandered off to see more of the show.
This event is unique in featuring several Edwardian cars, with some owners donning period costume to compete in the “Lady and the Car” Cup – judged on authenticity of both outfit and vehicle. It’s good fun and always a crowd-pleaser.
I even bumped into an old workmate showing off his bright red, very shiny Camaro.
The three hours flew by – and when my back started to protest, we left, contented.
We drove home tired but happy.
My Darling slaved over the air-frier when we got home and a massive roast dinner was created and enjoyed, after which we had some relaxing time in front of the big TV – the perfect ending to a fabulous day of freedom after so long indoors.
I will enjoy this week, come rain or shine.
The scan results won’t phase me – I feel fine.
The meds all have their place in my routine, and the bedtime morphine will stick around a few more nights, just in case today’s wanderings have painful consequences.
The bus is nearly at the stop.
But I’m not hopping off.
I’ll get out again this week before Thursday’s chemo.
My heart is fuller thanks to today’s social moments of simple friendship – the smiles and reunions that recharge the soul, give me strength to fight on.
I’m OK – are you OK?
