I’m really not sure how I’m getting through the days at the moment. This limbo, this feeling of suspension, this not knowing, is almost unbearable.
The time is dragging – my surgery still seems no closer than it was two weeks ago when I was given the biopsy results. But in many ways I want it to drag; I don’t want the day of the surgery to arrive because that will make this ridiculous situation very, very real.
I want the tumour gone, of course, but I don’t want to go through having it removed. Does that make sense? It may be very childish, but I want it never to have been there in the first place.
As far as my illness goes, there is nothing to be gained from looking to the future. I don’t know what it holds and I want to have neither false hope nor unnecessary fear.
Gardening is quite a different matter and looking to the future is one of the great pleasures associated with planning and planting. Now that the risk of frost has probably passed here in Suffolk, I have been getting to work on our vegetable plots. Three varieties of potatoes are already in, including my first attempt at growing the delicious heritage variety Pink Fir Apples. I have now added carrots, rocket, a couple of varieties of lettuce, runner beans and courgettes. Happily our resident rhubarb is also unfurling once again. It may not be the biggest vegetable garden in the world but it is ours and to tend it makes me happy.
The therapeutic value of gardening is well known. For me, the positive effect is instantaneous. The minute my hands are in the soil or I am putting my back into some digging, my heart is lifted and any problems are relegated to the shadows. The joy of living in the moment, but with an eye on the crops and harvest of the not-too-distance future.