Okay, so here’s the thing. I’ve been on this journey since the beginning of August 2019. And although it’s been a roller coaster ride, I’ve kept myself pretty much upbeat and managed to live in the moment. I’m still doing that. It’s the only way to survive. But it’s the small things which sometimes push us over the edge. In this case, it’s a bubble called a Seroma, ( a bit like an internal blood blister.) How did I know it was there? It’s hard to miss. Imagine having a watermelon lodged in your breast. You get the picture?

Archie has given me a wide berth. Tears are not his thing. He’s a boy, after all. I hoped he’d change his mind, but it was not to be. I hear his quick patter up the stairs. The soft chair on the landing is much more appealing. After a night of silent weeping, I feel a little fragile this morning. Yes, I do feel purged too. Of course, the Seroma was the tip of the iceberg but I won’t go into all the details. Suffice it to say that being misunderstood was in the mix. Oh and my old bugbear of the invisible girl in the shampoo advert too. Today is a day for licking my wounds and reminding myself that this too will pass. Weekly draining will help move things along. CBD oil definitely lulled me to sleep eventually. It’s time to explore my treasure chest of complementary therapies again. And I’ll find a good combination…

I can feel there’s a lesson in this somewhere and I’m pretty sure it will come to me during the course of the day. Not being listened to has been a recurring theme in my life. Perhaps it’s time for me to deal with it properly. And yes I own it. I am the only one who can change it. I like to think I can read other peoples’ minds (okay only a little!) So I kind of expect people to see into mine. At the very least, assess the situation…tune into the same station. But if they can’t or won’t, then it’s up to me to speak up, isn’t it?

I’m about to pull back the blanket, when Archie announces himself. He’s come for a quick visit, so I snuggle down again and watch his meticulous cleaning. I put my hand out tentatively and he grabs it to sink his teeth into. “No,” I say firmly. He hovers and we lock eyes. “I don’t want to be bitten.” I watch his ears flatten but he keeps his fiery orbs glued to mine. I don’t look away. We have a stare down for the longest time. Eventually he gives in and goes back to his ablutions.

The fog is already clearing. By the end of today, I’ll see the whole picture. Perhaps my tears washed over some wounds and allowed healing to begin. As I’ve said once before, it’s darkest before dawn. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I just forgot to factor in the last stretch before the opening…