Post 383: Waiting for the cameraman.
I got a text to say the ETA was the scheduled time of 6:30 pm. We were watching Drs Behind Closed Doors that we’d recorded so we don’t miss any of the series, with all the patients and doctors we’ve slowly been getting to know. The time till the Auction gallery’s photographer gets here will fly by.
The patients are fascinating and you learn more about how someone is by the way they conduct themselves and what they don’t say, more than their initial reasons for being there at the surgery in the first place.
Learning body language, even in infants, is an essential tool in understanding patients for all the doctors.
We all give away how we feel, without meaning to, so readily and easily. So capturing those emotions and physical cues is important and a great help in engaging with patients and their problems.
We love this fly-on-the-wall documentary series about life.
If I were to see a doctor today I’d be struggling to function normally due to loss. The loss of a possession that is more than just a car, more than an engine, more than a bunch of memories or a failed plan of escapism.
It’s about a retiring friend whose story is incomplete but about to end. A sad state of affairs that is impossible to shake off and whose passing is triggering a deeper malaise.
But hey, he’s here, the photographer is here.
So I quickly get to the front door and try to forget what he’s here for and take him into the house as an enthusiast who’s here to fulfil his own dream of owning a shiny grey-blue Volvo thirty years or more older than he is; and for the next hour I escorted him around my Amazon while he records over 500 images of my car and all the paperwork, books and leaflets I have recording the life of this luxury vehicle that’s about to find a new keeper, hopefully.
He finishes up and leaves me in a fairly jubilant state.
I have had a glorious day that’s sorted two major events in my life and I’m even happy, deep down inside, that this day is nearly over. There’s only one more thing to do.
I close the big red front door and turn towards the lounge and the big blue sofa where my Darling waits for me and, as soon as she gets off the phone to one of her sisters, she and I will watch some distracting TV and sit down holding hands until further notice.
Soon she calls it a day. My head keeps bobbing up and down as sleep overcomes the strength of my eyelids, causing my head to fall forwards in a mock bow to the crappy programme we are watching; she is watching. I’m just holding her hand in the hope that she can keep me from falling into my thoughts of missed opportunities with a big metal blue-grey toy that is just that—a toy.
I should remember that no matter what I go through, I go through it with her.
I should remember the main concern I have over everything else is her.
It’s my Darling.
I’m still lucky,
I’m still holding hands with the person I still love…
I’m still alive and there’s always tomorrow when we can start all over again and walk on together. Forever.
Good night
(I was choking on words in today’s blog. Two big bites in my mouth that were too big to chew. A huge mouthful of feelings haphazardly strung together)
PS
If you’re wondering what the other thing was… it was that we went to Moss to get a new suit for the wedding at the end of next month. My nephews wedding. I have to look smart. Tomorrow I may talk a bit about that shopping expedition, and my new suit.
PPS
I had a call from the appointment secretary for my oncologist who booked the next appointment for the 9th July.
Reminder to self; book a blood test a week before that appointment — or else we’ll have nothing to talk about.
Take care
