TRANSITION

TRANSITION >!<................>!

DAY 1... Monday 6th July
A walk of finality had taken place on Saturday morning. Such closeness, hands gently intertwined, striding out along the top of Ditchling beacon. The warm gentle wind blowing away the cobwebs of despair. Very few words were spoken, there was no need of conversation about what was to come, just our own private thoughts of anguish around this whole crazy situation.
One final kiss through the open window of your car as you drove away, intact for a while longer. That kiss has to be remembered for a lifetime because life has dealt you the cruelest of battering. The big C has reared it's ugly head and manifested itself over a six week period from a simple mouth ulcer on your gum, to full blown mouth cancer resulting in the Maxillectomy you will undergo at some point today at The Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead.
Defiant as ever, your final pre op evening was spent at Richmond, doing what you excel at. Salsa and Bachata dance is one of your many facets and honed of the talent you have perfected over the years. Sunday evening would have seen you intoxicated and lost in the music and flirtatious nature of it's Latin American origins. I have sent you a late text as I just crave just one final goodnight speak before the dread of dawn to Transition.

          " Hi Indie J x hope you lost urself  in the dancing tonight xx text me when you get home and I'll quick call before you go to bed. I read Will's post op blog. V clear on what to expect. I am scared for you. Nothing in his blog phased me. Geared up to support you in anyway I can. I have a game plan to get back up north tomorrow. Xx >!

1a.m.... So desperate to speak with you. It is the early hours, but you choose to stay silent and I have to respect your choices of privacy. I send you one last text of support, it's the only channel I have left open to me at this time of the morning.

           " Am guessing you need to be left alone tonight...I would probably do the same if it were me. I wish I could just hold you to try to give you comfort and ease your turmoil. >!!

I shouldn't even be here, in my own bed right now, as I had left yesterday to drive to Rochdale on a pre booked trip to take my dear ol dad to Wales for a weeks holiday. I had said my goodbyes to you, early yesterday morning, in a lighthearted almost jovial conversation, which had disguised our individual worries of what was to come. For whatever reason, I made it as far as Pease Pottage Services, where I had safely driven after a red oil light came on in the car, motor power was lost and braking seemed non existent. The AA operative attending was baffled as to the fault and had advised me to return home and get the car checked out today.  To risk such a long journey ahead was suicidal, even for Ms. Gung Ho Polly !!!

6am.... Sleep has been sporadic. I keep trying to put myself into your head, so I can try to read your thoughts and ease your mind somehow. I go through the different scenarios of playing out the next few hours of hospital waiting and preparation. You will be in deep, dark anguish. The constant of beating myself up for not being there with you has overtaken me. It was never going to be allowed, even had I not been scheduled to be up north, you would have chosen to go on this arduous journey alone, so I have to respect that decision,  but it doesn't make my anguish and solitude, at this moment, any easier to bear. I send you one final text at 6am 

      " >!!!!!!

8am.... At last the ping goes on my mobile and I pray it's a message from you. There are two.

           " Hi Ms P. In hosp theatre reception in gown!  Dancing was good last night. Sorry we didn't get time 2 talk but thinking of u & yr love & caring & our joy..TBC xx gd luck getting up N to Pa today, hire car or garage fix "

          " How u getting up north today? Mu + TAU, yr defiant warrior xxx"

My heart races with excitement of contact, half naked,  I click away my reply to you with humour spilt out from sheer relief. 

         " Bet you look pretty weird in NHS GARB x Its looking like hire car as Rob snowed under at garage. Just waiting on my car hire contact to call me as to what's available, as I need an automatic for self safety x What time is your op? How ru? I've started writing OUR TRANSITION BLOG at 6am today. It will keep me focused I HOPE.. MU BADLY X >!

8.30am...I decide I really need to hear your voice and I know you will be pleased to listen to my Polly Tones, so I grab the phone and ring your mobile. Verbal falling over words and catch up conversation is now the essence of time, as you will shortly be heading into that room of highly skilled people who will make some changes cosmetically, but will allow you longevity and a chance to resume your full on crazy lifestyle. I trill you my usual northern Tarrar, Tarrar at the end of our very smiley few minutes of togetherness speak, enveloped with the spirit of mega tight hugs time and tide deny us both at this moment.  My private tears and anger flow freely now, whilst making the bed, at the sheer injustice of all of this but I am helpless to change anything. I feel sick and nervous to my stomach. Uneasy of outcome, yet my sixth sense reassures me all will be fine. This flipping song of George Michael's once again plays loudly in my head, over and over as it has, now constant, for this past week. Same part verse of lyrics every time.
 
" Here in the dark in these final hours, I will lay down my heart to feel the power but you won't, cause I can't make you love me if you don't "
 
A daunting song indeed and one of my favorites but I am beginning to find it dark and bothersome. Maybe once this is all over it will fade away. I send you a final text of encouragement, betwixt my tears.

            " Keep the owl and the butterfly in sight pretty please xx TAU with great love and admiration for your bravery My Indie Dragon xx >!

2.30pm.....  I am awaiting the replacement hire car at The Marina in Brighton, so I can resume my trip to Pa's and Wales. The car is late of delivery,  so I sit in the glorious sunshine at the cafe bar next door, soaking up the searing rays and thinking " If you are aware right now of this beautiful sunny day, you would be gutted not to be a part of it on one of your daily walks of life. "  My mobile pings and I scrabble frantically to read the message. A trillion butterflies are circling my insides as I read your text with fear of dread. I should have known it would all be safe and ok of outcome. 
                    
           " Woozy, coming round in Ross Tilley ward. Swallowing difficult with big plate, so choc milk shake but no pain yet "

4pm....  I am finally on the road North out of Brighton, amongst the painful pre rush hour traffic clogging up the roads. I have to now weave through all of this mayhem, as my decision has been firmly made to bestow on my Indie J x a surprise "Pit Stop" at The Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead. The need is overwhelming for a hug with my man. Yet again, I am now stuck in a long line of cars towards Woodingdean when my mobile pings. " Sod the motors behind, I am not crawling any further forward until I have read your text of progress. "  I grab my glasses and hold up the queue.

             " Hi B'fly. I'me not woozy now. Jus sore and v difficult to swallow & gaga dribbly !!!! Xx Whats happening for u? "

5pm....  An hour of cursing the British motorists and their queuing bad habits, a few wrong routes and a helpful taxi controller with a good head for pointing me in the right direction, sees me hurtle through the gates of your current resting place. The Queen Victoria Hospital looks aged and worn like an old cardigan but boy oh boy do they but do some amazing work here with cranial surgery and their world famous Macindoe Burns Unit. I know you feel fuzzy, yet already bucking the system, according to your text. My need of urgency to see this for myself prompts me to rush down the odour tainted corridors like a bat out of hell, searching for the Ross Tilly Ward, which is your current residence. A very helpful nurse points me to your bay and I really don't know what to expect as I stride to bed 3. Tubes, drips, monitors, maybe groans of discomfort?? Guess what?? My warrior is nowhere to be seen and the bed is empty. Then I hear those deep, dulcet tones unique in their volume. I follow the gruff and I suddenly see that oh so familiar face, talking and gesticulating animately to possibly your surgeon in a lovely, leafy quadrant garden outside the ward. Your Indie grunge attire is so relevant. Combat jeans, overlaid with non complimentary hospital gown accessory, hair tied back in signature pony tail and open canvas sandals.  

Once the medic man departs, I sneak into the quadrant garden, creeping up behind you with the quiet stealth of a panther. You are perched on a plastic chair in the sunshine, with head down almost to the floor. My heart reaches out in comfort, as I assume throes of despair have overtaken your traumatic situation.  I place my hands, from behind you, gently over those smiley eyes that never cease to create provocative responses. " Who on earth is that? " you chuckle. " Cool hands on my shoulders " you chide. " The flittery, fluttery one " Is my response.  Up you jump in amazement, with the biggest smile possible, under the current circumstance. Your eyes shine like a planetarium of reflective stars.  Massive hugs of excitement in abundance.  Then...  what does this crazy man do?? Whips off the hospital gown and proceeds to twirl me round and round, Bachata style, in this garden of colourful place, with the hot sun drenching us both in all it's glory. What a truly magical, in the moment, crazy gesture. I am captivated and enamoured by my Indie Maverick already fighting his corner.

Turns out the head in hands of despair is actually Indie sending out bulletins via his mobile, placed on the ground between his feet to protect it from the sun. " Despair indeed.. Oh ye of little faith "

I leave this place, after one more ginormous hug of " squeeze me tighter please," with a lighthearted skip of delight all the way back to the car. I am so at peace now as I see my amazing fun buddy beating that bronzed chest hard, ready for the upward climb of defiance, to rekindle all of the extremities that make up necessity of life line. Cut the man and he will bleed Bachata Dance, Hangliding, Double Trapeze, Daily Walking Of Longevity Amongst Natures Landscape and Passion of all things Pangolin.

 Yet another ping already for my delight,  as I finally figure out which of the many cars in the grounds is my hired vehicle ( I can't remember colour or Reg ) Derrrrr !!

               " What a lovely surprise to see a lovely rare species of white B'fly wearing a pangie emblem today. Thank You xx Indie xx " 

I am now ensconced in my hire car in the hospital car park, trying to figure out countless gadgets and triptronics in this ultra mean machine. Mr Tighe your surgeon drives past me in a very large, beautiful, sleek, silver Mercedes convertible. Roof down and not a care in the world. 

You know what " He deserves every expensive bit of that flash motor, because today his skill allowed The Princess & The Dragon.... SEASONS IN TIME OF FUTURE " 
                     JOB WELL DONE !!!!!