The nowness of everything
For the last three years, I have been living with cancer - shamefully, I had kept the symptoms of my bowel cancer to myself - even in my diary, I had been dishonest in my record of how things were - I had never scrawled - I bled badly today - I had used any number of coded euphemisms - I had been cowardly and irresponsible -
When I was told my prognosis, I entered a pale world, one centred entirely upon myself -
When I came round from my operation, I was overjoyed - I had woken up - I ran my fingers over my belly - there was no stoma -
I had to wait for ten days or so to get the results of the lymph node biopsies - the weather had been wonderful - East Stoke had seemed like paradise - the river had been full of darting fish, like tiny silver arrows - the green of the water meadows ravished my eyes - I looked at the small bluish white scars that marked my laparoscopic anterior resection - I wondered - how could anyone not fail to be amazed by being alive in this world?
I think of Dennis Potter's words, in that glorious heartbreaking interview with Melvyn Bragg - But now the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous -
Sometimes, to me, it is like a gentle sadness, like soft music - the pathos and transience of things - this melancholy makes all the sensations I now experience all the more intense, all the more wonderful -
Today, I had my three year surveillance colonoscopy - at Semi Colons, we say - I'm due my scope - the nurses, as ever, were kind and calm - they were aware of my anxiety - they did not think the less of me for it - I saw the strange gleaming landscapes of my large bowel upon the screen -
By the grace of God I was declared clear - my next scope will be in five years time - when I came home, I looked at the apple blossoms, scattered upon the newly cut grass - I felt dizzy with the world - I looked up at the few blossoms remaining upon the delicate branches of the tree -
The apple blossoms were - the whitest frothiest blossomest blossom that there ever could be -
I had no more words left me then, that moment, looking up at the shining tree -
For the last three years, I have been living with cancer - shamefully, I had kept the symptoms of my bowel cancer to myself - even in my diary, I had been dishonest in my record of how things were - I had never scrawled - I bled badly today - I had used any number of coded euphemisms - I had been cowardly and irresponsible -
When I was told my prognosis, I entered a pale world, one centred entirely upon myself -
When I came round from my operation, I was overjoyed - I had woken up - I ran my fingers over my belly - there was no stoma -
I had to wait for ten days or so to get the results of the lymph node biopsies - the weather had been wonderful - East Stoke had seemed like paradise - the river had been full of darting fish, like tiny silver arrows - the green of the water meadows ravished my eyes - I looked at the small bluish white scars that marked my laparoscopic anterior resection - I wondered - how could anyone not fail to be amazed by being alive in this world?
I think of Dennis Potter's words, in that glorious heartbreaking interview with Melvyn Bragg - But now the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous -
Sometimes, to me, it is like a gentle sadness, like soft music - the pathos and transience of things - this melancholy makes all the sensations I now experience all the more intense, all the more wonderful -
Today, I had my three year surveillance colonoscopy - at Semi Colons, we say - I'm due my scope - the nurses, as ever, were kind and calm - they were aware of my anxiety - they did not think the less of me for it - I saw the strange gleaming landscapes of my large bowel upon the screen -
By the grace of God I was declared clear - my next scope will be in five years time - when I came home, I looked at the apple blossoms, scattered upon the newly cut grass - I felt dizzy with the world - I looked up at the few blossoms remaining upon the delicate branches of the tree -
The apple blossoms were - the whitest frothiest blossomest blossom that there ever could be -
I had no more words left me then, that moment, looking up at the shining tree -
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