Listen...

Today we went to London for one of Abi's regular check-ups at Great Ormond Street. I managed to get us a couple of cheap first class return tickets and we got into London just after midday.

The appointment wasn't until three, which gave us time to get some lunch and, before that, to take a trip to the British Library for a look around their Buddhism exhibition. Abi is studying the religion as part of her RPE GCSE and I have taken a passing interest in it ever since I read a life changing article in The Independent many, many years ago.

I've written about it before but to save you searching back through nearly eight years of blog posts I'll repeat it here. The article talked about a Buddhist conference of some sort that took place in London. The monks created a huge 'painting' from sand on a huge floor. It was quite beautiful. And at the end of the conference they swept it up as testament to the fact that everything is transitory, everything must end. 

Perversely, I took a huge amount of comfort from that. It helped me to learn to live in the present, to enjoy experience precisely because one day it will end. An awful lot follows on from that.

Anyway, back to the exhibition, which was really interesting and definitely worth wandering around for forty-five minutes or so. I have to admit, though, that my favourite part was the standing bell by the exit, which one was encouraged to strike with a clothbound mallet. It gave a beautiful sonorous ring, which took ages to die away. 

And, after lunch at an American diner near the hospital, we went for the check up. First they checked Abi's hearing which is almost perfect after the operation, with just a gap around 250Hz, where the doctor had to turn up the volume for her to hear it. Then the consultant checked her ears and throat and pronounced that everything was good. We chatted a bit longer and he asked Abi to come back next Easter for a further check up.

So as we left I felt rather cheery but Abi clearly did not. We walked down Kingsway mostly in silence and then as we went across Waterloo Bridge she told me what was on her mind, which is that she finds it hard to cope with the uncertainty; no one really knows what the long term prognosis is and she feels a little like a Guinea pig. There was not an awful lot I could say so I simply listened and told her how brave she is and how much I admire her.

We met my folks and my brother, Wol, for drinks and dinner, and you wouldn't know for a moment that Abi had been feeling low. She was charming and funny all through the meal, and continued to be great company as she and I took the tube back up to Euston. 

She crashed out on the train on the way home, though, and who can blame her?

****
-11.0 kgs
'Look To Windward' by Iain M Banks