⁇ Cancer light – The day leaves became heavy

⁇ 15:33 The bell that no one wants to hear

It was a call on Friday afternoon at 15:33. I was just preparing a kwis beer tasting. In a few minutes my afternoon changed from light to heavy. Since then, I've been trying to write down everything that happens. Not to get pity, but to keep my head and heart together. These blogs are my way of understanding, sharing and showing how I deal with this, sometimes seriously, sometimes with humor, but always really.

“Life does not call in advance to ask if it is convenient.”

⁇ Back to the campsite

Yesterday felt like three days in one body. Sylvia and I drove to the campsite because it was high time to prepare everything for winter, a kind of annual ritual dance that you normally do not think about. The last time I was there, I stood between full glasses and cheerful buzz during the beer tasting. Now we got out in a quiet, cold air that smelled like wet grass and early winter. The awning looked as if he himself was still doubting whether he wanted to experience the winter. The fridge looked at me in the way that only old camping fridges can, slightly reproachful and with the silent hope that we would forget him anyway.

We did not expect anyone and assumed an efficient operation, but were greeted by a small procession of acquaintances who spontaneously let their hearts speak. Hugs, warm cans, hands that stayed a little longer than normal. Everyone wanted to know how it went, and you immediately felt that it was not a polite question. I tried to answer as I always do, lightly and honestly at the same time, but my voice had other plans. Halfway through a sentence he decided that it had been beautiful, as if he stood with his arms over each other and said: This was it for today.

“Some meetings warm you up, even if your body refuses to do so.”

⁇ The weight of leaves

Then I raked leaves. Normally an in-between job, but for me it felt like I had won the national peatland movement championships. The sound of raking, the smell of damp earth, the big bag that didn't seem full, and I supported it as if I had underestimated the Enschede marathon. But there was also pride. A small victory over a body that carries its own agenda.

“Not everything that is heavy is big. Sometimes it's just a bag of leaves.”

⁇ An unexpected bell

Just as I was resting on the couch in the awning, the doorbell rang. My parents stood at the door, spontaneously, as only parents can. I had already called that I wanted to go to them, but did not find the energy. They found the energy for me. Sylvia finished what she was doing and we drove home, where my mother had taken rice ebb. There is no need for Michelin stars. Comfort food wins every time.

“Parents never time perfectly, but they do it just right.”

⁇ Find heat

Everything collapsed at home at the same time. I took a bath to warm up and stayed there for three hours. On the tap there was soft warm running water, a choice that I normally condemn, but needed now. When I got out, I almost felt human. I wrote my previous blog, sat on the couch with Sylvia, fell asleep, was sent to bed lovingly and was gone before my e-reader could tell me which chapter I had missed.

“Recovery sometimes starts with doing nothing, even if it takes hours.”

⁇ For now

Today I feel unexpectedly firm, as if my body has decided after yesterday that there is still quite a bit of stretch in it. Maybe it's because of the meetings at the campsite, maybe because of my mother's rice ebb, or maybe because of that too long bath in which I became half human, half tea bag. They were small things, but together they formed a gentle push forward. We still have to go back to the campsite, if only to finish the final details, but that will be a day before later.

Today I first want to walk with Sylvia and Salke, see what the air looks like and how much energy my legs find. Then I hope to sit around the table with the whole family, including my daughter and her boyfriend, for an old-fashioned game of shuffleboarding. The kind of moment together that solves nothing but softens everything. And maybe that's exactly what I need the most: No big steps, no big words, just moments that make me feel that I am still there and that life, despite everything, still wants to participate.

‘Heaviness may have light. And light sometimes weighs surprisingly much.”