Sing Cuckoo

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It’s officially summer in the northern hemisphere, with today being the longest day of the year.  Apart from the fact that it’s often hotter here than in Trinidad, I absolutely love this time of year; I’m not a winter creature.  The temperature is climbing this weekend, with some rain / thunderstorms in the forecast.  It’s always rained on my birthday for as long as I can remember, so I expect that as a feature.  Jerry had a good day today, and saw my support worker, so he was just thrilled when she arrived.  He got very excited, dancing around her and asking to play.  He leapt off my lap and zoomed across when she came in.  I’m glad that the boys like her.  Don was dozing a lot today, but that’s because he didn’t sleep too well last night.  His ankle is a little less swollen today, which is good, although it’s still painful.  He was “watching” sports this afternoon, but I fell asleep in my chair with no warning.  It’s all good, since I obviously needed it, otherwise I would not sleep, right?  The boys are comfy on the sofa, and I’m being carefully monitored by a pair of teddy bear button eyes…

So today I had a series of phone calls that just piled up and one knocked me for six (as we say.)  I got a call from my social worker to schedule our next follow up meeting, ditto the dietitian, so they’re both scheduled for early July.  Then I got a call from a physio clinic that tried to send me to an office an hour away from me.  I refused, and she said, “that’s what comes up when I enter your postal code.”  She tried again, and I noted that they had a clinic not quite a kilometre away, so she booked that one.  Then I got a call from my care coordinator, who was doing my semi-annual review.  After we’d talked, she thinks that I need more at home services, so she will increase the hours.  We went through a few other things, like did I have a will, who has authority for medical decision making, etc.  All fine.  Then she asked, “what’s your prognosis?  How long have they given you?”  That question has thrown me all day.  I replied that I don’t ask, because I don’t think that way.  The object of my treatment is palliative — to improve quality of life and manage symptoms.  I know that I’m not considered curable, but I’m still treatable, which is (to me, anyway) the important thing.  I know she was just doing her job, but it still felt brutal.  I’ll cope and be ok, I just needed to vent.

The summer forecast was just updated today.  An earlier one called for a cool, wet summer; today’s says “hotter than usual.”  I’m not sure why people get so bent out of shape about these, because when the first one came out, people were moaning about not having a summer, cool and wet was so horrible.  Then came the fires, and there were cries for more rain, cooler weather, and now with temperatures hovering near 30 in the next few days, there are more complaints about the heat.  I’m reminded of something my friend Fr. Leo often said — “we’re not yet in heaven, so things aren’t perfect here.  But even in heaven, there will be those who will complain that the sky is the wrong shade of blue.”  I think about that occasionally, and reflect on the times when we are less than grateful for what we have.  I know that I sometimes wish that things were different, that I had something I don’t but I try not to dwell on those moments too long.  I remember reading C. S. Lewis (I forget which book) in which he talked about the people who were always dissatisfied with something, and would say that they “just want things to be done right” or complain that others were lazy or that nobody cared about quality.  He was of the opinion that they would set up barriers against appreciating joy because they focussed on flaws.  With that in mind, whatever the summer brings, I’ll do my best to enjoy.

I’m in the middle of my nightly fast; last night I had a massive wave of nausea fairly late, and I think that I’ll have to monitor my timings again.  Before the little dog wakes up, I’m going to do a few little things and prepare my “midnight” snack.  Good night!