Oxygen

30th May 2012 Wednesday

We are sitting in a light bright room at the M S centre where they offer Hyperbaryic Oxygen treatment - also supposed to be helpful for people with brain conditions. My husband is signing up for 15 sessions in a sealed chamber where he’ll breathe in 100 percent oxygen through a mask for an hour for 5 days a week. I discover the woman explaining the process to us is a neighbour who lives a few doors down the road but I’ve never spoken to her in the nine years we’ve lived here.

She gives us huge amounts of information which my husband says he mostly follows. Except for the word sprinklers in the context of ‘in case of fire’.  And he doesn’t know what the Jubilee is. I already feel drained from an emotional session with our lovely clinical psychologist first thing this morning.

Not sure why I’m writing this tonight. My day has been mushy with thoughts of shoulds - the house feels messy and chaotic and needs cleaning, the garden needs watering and planting, emails need answering.  My enthusiasm for any of these things is zero. We escape to the dark womb of the cinema and a box of popcorn. 

And I'm trusting I will feel different in the oxygen of a new day.