Monday, 24 October 2011

Bad nights

I am working on a small painting called “Insomnia,” showing my arm reaching out in the dark for the buttons on my digital radio, as it does several times a night. It contains my glass of water and my tissue, essential items on the long journey into night. It sums up a large part of my life at the moment, I am sad to say. Voices from the ether broken up by short bouts of sleep.

Evenings and the early hours are difficult. It’s then that I start to feel odd symptoms, and at the moment I wonder if the cancer has come back (as predicted so strongly by doctors) but I can’t tell because symptoms are hidden behind these problems I’m having with the botched hernia op.

I am still bleeding and praying, literally, that the anti-biotics will work so I don’t have to go under the knife again. It is a real game of chance. I resent that my life has gone like this, so full of darkness and shadows.

There is a special problem for a single, childless person who gets a diagnosis of cancer because there is not enough to distract them and turn them back towards LIFE.

I meet other people with cancer, I hear stories all the time, my life is full of it, but if I had children their needs would come first and I would be preoccupied with getting them ready to face the world, to use their talents. It would be the start of their lives with everything ahead.

The nearest I got to parenthood was writing about Dada. I invested in myself, maybe it was a poor investment.


  1. So glad to have found your blog again ... have been wondering what had happened to you. Rotten luck with the hernia repair but you've not posted about it recently so perhaps everything is healing and the infection has passed? I often listen to the sound of the sea in the middle of the night and take myself back to sea vistas often that sends me back to sleep. Your blog would make a fascinating book ....

    1. Very nice to have you back, Apricot!
      Insomnia is a problem for many women, lots of causes I know.
      I would like to get a book out of all this.

  2. Only wish you could have had your repair in Halifax. I am increasingly impressed with the consultants I meet there and the standard of care and compassion they give. Reading about the grim times you've had doesn't lift my heart. As a Londoner I think I'm pleased I adopted Yorkshire in 1976. Pleased I don't have a nagging worry about you anymore.