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| 11th January 2019 |
I'm posting a picture of squashed berries, not to be pessimistic but because I suspect you'll find fewer pictures of squashed berries on the internet than you will of whole ones. Being vaguely reflective, it's brilliant how cheerful red berries remain even when they are squashed on a rainy pavement.
I took this photograph on my way home from hospital. I spent ages photographing the tree they fell from and its surrounds but I'll just put this here as a way to say Happy New Year. We may already be a twelfth of the way through 2019 but it's never too late for good wishes!
This the kind of picture I usually reserve for my other blog (Message in a Milk Bottle). There's more in it than at first seems. I think the stalk of the berries may be lying on part of a sycamore wing and there's either a tiny bit of green lichen to the top left of the lower berry or it's the beginning of a new plant. There's a matchstick and, of course, the shine of rain on the paving stone.
Here in hospital, I find it harder to rejoice in the random. Very little here is random. It's beautifully clean and stunningly well ordered and efficient beyond anything I could have expected or even imagined . . . Yes, in hospital, for although I took this photo on my way home, I was only there for a few days before chemo started again. This time stronger than before. The first lot had zapped most of the Leukaemia but some still lurked in a mutant form. I'm back in exactly the same room. It's very comfortable but the view is of part of the same building, hence finding squashed berries enormously beautiful and exciting. They are not grey!
26 comments:
Hello it's good to see you posting in your usual offbeat way as I was wondering how you are.
Thanks, and to you too. As you rightly say it's never too late for good wishes. Take care. xx
(PS I've sent you an email about a book)
Hello and Happy New Year, Never too late for best wishes. I’m so glad to see you posting on here. Sending a hug. Love from karen xx
Lucy, It’s so good to hear from you. It sounds as though you’re into another grueling round of chemo. But, those glorious red berries on the shiny, rain dampened pavement reminds us all of what is special and what we usually ignore in our daily lives. Be well and all the best for 2019.
It's good to see a post from you Lucy. Thanks for your good wishes for the new year and sending you good wishes in return. Those squashed berries must have been a welcome splash of colour on your way home. I'm envious of your gift of being able to observe the tiny details. Hope that it is not long before you are back home and seeing colour again.
I have been looking in each time I think of you.
SO good to see one of your quirky happy photos!
As the others say... great to hear from you! The berries are perfect ... or rather not perfect (I've no use for perfect :) Best wishes ...
I've missed your take on the things you see, so it's lovely to read a post from you. No one else could point out so much in a photo of squashed berries and make me see them differently. I'm glad you got home for a bit and equally glad the hospital are taking such good care of you. Keep going, Lucy, you are made of tougher stuff than you know. x
somewhat of a relief to hear from you Lucy - thanks for your wry Greetings and hoping your leukaemia is soon as squashed as these berries.
Hello Mike. It's funny; when I'm writing I am not conscious of writing in any particular way - I just write . . . so I'm really pleased that people enjoy it.
Hello Karen. Thank you for your continuing encouragement.
Hello Liz. At least this time, although the chemo this time round is stronger than the first lot and has taken much of my energy, I have not been ill in the way of the first round when my temperature went up to 40 degrees and most of me was covered in a deep purple rash. Champing at the bit till I can get home!
Hello Anna. Yes, the squashed berries looked disproportionately cheerful, the light was so dim and the weather so damp. It was like having a little moment of Christmas.
Hello Diana. Thank you for looking out for posts. Hope you had a good Christmas.
Hello Hollis. Your landscapes are so very different to any I am used to - do you get many red berries on trees where you live and explore?
Hello Countryside Tales. I'm glad you like the posts. I think I'll be in hospital at least another week and don't know how many day's break I'll get at home before returning for the next chemo. But however short, I'll try to find something else interesting to post about then.
Hello Laura. I'm pretty relieved I'm still here to wirte a post too! There was no guarantee the first round of chemo would work so I was very pleased it did, even though it didn't zap everything I'd have liked it to. Hope you are well.
A happy new year to you and sending best wishes for your treatment to work
Yes, Lucy, we have red berries, especially if you count wild rose hips, but only in moister habitat--stream draws and such. By now they are all dry and shriveled from having frozen so I don't notice them. Is there any red left? Don't know ... will have to check :)
I have missed your special posts. I look upon the squashed berries as relevant to what your treatment is doing for your illness.I wish you well for 2019 and complete recovery. Alistair
Happy Very Late New Year !
I just found your blog and from Country Tale and I an sending wishes from Tucson Arizona.
cheers, parsnip
I'm just wondering how you're doing, Lucy? xx
Me too. Home again?
Sending you sunshine and blue skies - good weather for walking your hills.
Hello Everyone. And thanks to those of you who have either emailed or left comments here asking how I am.
I'm trying to gear myself into writing a post. If it were sunny I'd rush out and take a snap now so I could do one with a cheerful picture but it's very grey at present.
I came home on 18th March. Unfortunately the chemo has not destroyed the leukaemia and my immune system has not recovered enough to take any more. The next step, therefore, will, hopefully, be a stem cell transplant. The trouble about this it that it depends on whether there's a suitable donor on the register. I confess that now it's no longer just a matter of how much my body can cope with but the random nature of whether another person happens to have have volunteered who is a suitable match . . . I feel frightened in a way I have not before.
Some of you will have noticed I have unsubscribed from having your blog posts sent by email. The others will follow. This does not mean I value them less. I generally read posts as they appear in my sidebar or reading list rather than when they come into my inbox so it makes no difference to what I read. However, in practical terms I am clearing the decks in case anyone has to tidy up after me. I will be giving a friend my password so if anything untoward does happen she will not have to wade through blog links and newsletters etc. to find personal mail. The same password will also mean she can leave a note on the blog if ever she needs too.
In doing this I am being practical rather than un-hopeful. Even supposing there's a donor, there are risks associated with the transplant.
One (amongst many!) annoying things is that because my immunity to infection is so low I must not handle earth so I am not able to gain strength or pleasure (or even potential food!) from my allotment. Being out on the allotment would have been the best way to have built up my strength, physical and emotional, for any trials that are ahead. Walking to the park and back seems very tame in comparison.
Best wishes to you all.
I really must write a proper post so apologies in advance that it will inevitably repeat things I've said here - but I didn't want to leave your messages hanging while I wait for a sunny day.
Lucy
Hello Lucy, Mike (Flighty) forwarded your post. This is a slog for you. I hope a stem cell match will soon be found. May the sun shine and warm you. Take heart. We are rooting for you. Liz (Kentucky)
I have a great-niece in England who is on the donor list for stem cells. Hope you will find a match soon.
Dear Lucy, thank you for the update. I so feel for you not being able to work with the soil as you would like to. I am keeping everything crossed for you that a stem cell donor match will be found soon. The practical side of managing illness has to be done, but it must feel very surreal doing it. I am sending prayers and positive thoughts your way, along with the hope that you can get back outside to the places that you love and that nourish you soon. XX
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