I have just come back to the ward from the beautiful midnight mass in the hospital chapel. There were a few other participants like me in their pyjamas. We are celebrating Christmas this year in a more cheerful mood than we dared hope. Thank God for this hospital, and thank you for your prayers.
Isita is fast asleep. Marta and Jamie left the hospital a few hours ago and she conked out almost immediately. She still experiences pain and vomiting morning and evening, but the nights are calm and the days are fun so long as we fill them with distractions. Ever so slowly she is getting better. The day before yesterday she spent the afternoon in Surrey with her cousins and grandmother – the first time in months. We’ll be back there later this morning for Christmas lunch.
On Christmas Eve, all four of us went to the movies to see Ferdinand – the animation of a book by the American author and illustrator Munro Leaf about a Spanish fighting bull more interested in just sitting and smelling the flowers than fighting. They spun out the story a bit, but it was nice to see even a cartoon version of those rolling oak-covered Andalusian hills where we were just before Isita was diagnosed last new year. Or was it a hundred years ago?
The cabbie who took us back to hospital via the Carnaby, Regent, and Oxford Street lights only took half his fare. Up in the room we had a family meal. Isita is still a long way from eating, but feeds us as if we were her children (“Here comes the aeroplane!”). It’s her way of joining in. When there is something she likes, she asks if she will be able to eat it once she is allowed.
I honestly don’t know how she has the patience and fortitude to break our bread with her own hands and put it in our mouths but not her own. All we need is for her body to obey her mind and spirit and she will be fine.