Gracias a la vida

Wednesday 2 May

An early rise. At 7:00AM the nurse rang the door bell, ready to get Lara prepared for yet another visit to the hospital. Transfusion day. The two of us took time to eat breakfast and enjoy our Lavazza Top Class cappuccinos.

The ambulance came by at 9 :10AM and at 9:45AM we were at the hematology day care clinic of Saint Luke's. With nauseating dexterity the ambulance driver (his name was Gabriel), negotiated the morning's peak hour traffic, using all his horns and sirens. Lara asked me if I could make him tone it down a bit. I passed on the message but the young man stuck to his guns. "Without them, it would take us an hour to get to the hospital, he said, so I really need the horns. The other day, he explained, "I tried Brahm's No. 2 Piano Concerto, but without any effect!" At least one person showing a sense of humor.

At 10:00AM a blood sample was taken, and then the waiting game began. For over three hours, we had to wait until finally one measily batch of platelets had arrived, which took barely 20 minutes to disappear into her bloodstream. We were home by about 4:00PM, Lara completely exhausted.

Gert-Jan, my old friend, had taken two days leave to come and stay with us, engaging Lara in converstaion about her condition, disucssing diagnosis and prognosis with equal clarity and transprarence. Not an optimistic story line, but at least a realistic one. It is good for me to have someone to keep me company.

As I write, Lara is reclining in the living room. Andreina will pass by to cook one of Lara's favorite Italian dishes. Hopefully she will have mustered some appetite by then, for she skipped lunch altogether. I ate hers, in fact.

As she was resting peacefully, I put on a record by Joanie Baez, one of Lara's favorite singers (the two knew eachother). "Gracias a la vida" was the first number. "Thank you to Life". We have often sung it together, at the top of our voices.

It is at moments like these, that tears are right up against the back of my eyes.

Sylvie Girard is due to arrive at the apartment, and old friend from the Honduran refugee camps. I told Lara yesterday she would be coming, but I bet that meanwhile it slipped her mind. Another surprise encounter lies in store for my sweet one.