Massive Doses of Love

7th July 2012 Saturday

7am I put the finishing touches to the birthday cake for my sister-in-law.

7.30 We watch Breakfast TV news and weather report - rain and flood warnings in East Devon, Somerset and Dorset. We need to drive through these counties to London and the birthday party. Should we go or not? Maybe the fooding is local and not on the main roads. I’m torn - also reluctant to leave the pussy cat for 12 hours since his chemo two days ago.

In the end we stay home. I freeze the cake. My husband goes out in the rain and buys Waitrose croissants and the newspapers. It feels like a gift of a day. Except I’m restless and keep thinking we made the wrong decision. Even while I take root in the sofa and watch Serena  Williams win the women’s singles final.

The pussy cat won’t eat or drink. There are four different kinds of cat food in containers in the fridge and yogurt and tuna. All day I try and tempt him with the things he likes. He sniffs the bowl and turns his head away. There must be some deep instinctual thing about feeding someone you love. I feel such despair and hopelessness and an irrational rage too when he refuses nourishment. The chemo has taken his appetite away so why would he eat. I could just trust he knows what he’s doing. But I’m not sure I do.

I suppose I’m afraid he’ll die if he doesn’t. And it’s somehow my job to keep him alive. If only it was massive doses of love and not drugs that could heal him. Then he’d go on forever.

I’m trying to remember that You are always in the right place at the right time. And that today worked out perfectly.  For me and the pussy cat and the birthday girl without her cake.