CHAPTER FORTY ONE REMEMBRANCE

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I must tell you that the first part of this chapter will make sense only if you have read or remember the end of Chapter Forty.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

All of sudden I began to laugh, really laugh.

James asked, "Mum, what is so funny?"

"Oh I just had a really funny thought. For once Martin, you will have the longest hair in the family."

No doubt about it, I had married a curmudgeon. I accept that. Entered into it with my eyes wide open. Many folks could never understand the attraction. Why had I done it? And even now at times Martin gave them no reason to think differently. He could still be brusque and short, especially with time wasters and whingers. There was one significant change. After James was born he became more patient with worried parents. He could even be withdrawn sometimes and a bit gruff with us, especially when tired or worried. But I know above all I am a cherished woman. Martin loves me and takes care of me. We have learned the silent language of couples. I can give him a certain look and his look back says, "I don't understand, but my lips are sealed." That's why when I made the comment about his hair I saw a faint smile cross his face and the spell was broken. His response was,

"I suppose you all think I should shave my head."

"NO Dad," James exclaimed. You can well be a shock to your patients as it is. Oh wait, that didn't come out well. I mean..."

"No need to explain Son. I have no intention of having shorter hair than this. How are you feeling now, Louisa?"

"A bit better. I just want to go to bed. You have surgery tomorrow, Martin. Good night children. You make your mother very proud and happy."

"Thanks Mum, g'night"

"Good night Mum. Love you."

0

It was mid-January and I had received my second treatment. This was a miserable winter and my feelings matched the weather. I was tired most of the time and when they said I would lose my hair, I had no idea it would mean all my hair. Joan and I had shopped for and found some lovely scarves and knitted beanies in Truro. At least they covered my dome. Thankfully the nausea lasted on a few days and the meds they gave me for it helped. My sweet family was really taking care of me. In fact I had to work hard not to fuss at their fussing over me so much.

This was a particularly blustery day with the rain hitting the windows like pellets. I hated that Martin had to drive up on the moor, and the children were not home from school yet. I heard a phone ring in the other room. What was that? My phone was next to me. I checked and realized Martin had left his mobile. I scrolled and saw that our friend Luk* had tried to call. I quickly redialed him.

"Luk, hi, it's Louisa. Martin forgot his phone and he is out in this bloody weather. Not good. How are you?"

"Fine, Louisa. Just checking up on things there and thought I would call Martin. Can't say the weather's any better here. Lot's of snow. We've not been out all day."

"Muddling through here Luk," I sighed. The kids aren't home from school yet and I am just lying here like a bag of potatoes. I can't go to the school since I am susceptible to infections. I'm so ready to be over this and still have four months to go. Not fun. Not fun at all. Sorry Luk. I shouldn't be complaining. My reports are good and the future looks positive. I can't tell you how much it meant to have Natalie here. She helped me but more than that she was so good for Martin and the children. Before the good reports I know we all were thinking the worst. Natalie helped us get through that difficult time."

There was a bit of silence and I said, "Luk, are you there?"

"Yes, yes, Louisa I'm still here. Just thinking. St. Benedict said, 'We should keep death daily before our eyes.' I don't want to sound morbid, but you have received a blessing, you know."

"Luk, what are you going on about?"

"Louisa, tell me if you see life differently now than before your diagnosis."

"Well of course. I look at Martin and James and Joan and want to spend every moment with them I can, and hate it when we are apart. It is so easy to take it all for granted. I don't ever want to do that again."

"There you are. Score one for St. Benedict. Tell me how it goes with Martin."

"He seems to be holding his feelings inside. These days he has been a man of even fewer words. But I know him, Luk and I can tell you he has been afraid and worried. The man treats me like a china doll."

"Louisa, I hope you let him take care of you. If he can't speak, he can do. Don't complain about your family's attention. It's their way of showing their love and concern. They would have donned armour and stormed a castle to destroy your cancer. If they can't do that, let them make your toast. Of course Martin has feared losing you but do you know what else worries him? Do you?"

"What? What did he tell you?"

"I had to drag it out of him and I hope I am not speaking out of turn. Louisa, he is afraid you won't believe him when he tells you how beautiful your are."

"My cheeks were wet and it was Luk wondering if I was still on the line. Finally I said, "Thank you for that Luk. I don't think I am able to talk more now. Tell Natalie I will call her" my voice was cracking, "later in the week."

It was not a conscious decision that motivated what happened next. Cognition had nothing to do with it. Something inside moved me to arise and to go upstairs to our ensuite. I shed the joggers that I was wearing and let them drop to the floor, hopefully accompanied by the heaviness I had been feeling. I turned on the shower and adjusted it to a fine light spray. I kept it quite tepid because the incisions on my chest were still very tender and sensitive. I stepped into the warm cascade and let it wash over me for the longest time. I shampooed my head as if it were covered in hair. As I rinsed I allowed the suds to wash over me, taking with it, I hoped, every "Why me?" I had uttered. I wanted to shed the self-pity I had felt; the dark weather-matching weariness down the drain. If I were up too long I could not complete what I had now conceived as I bathed. There would be a thank you for my family when they got home.

Stepping out of the shower I gently toweled off and I stopped. I turned and looked in the full length mirror. From head to toe there was no hair. I defined baldness, right to my eye brows and eye lashes being gone. Where my breasts used to be were two lateral incisions surrounded by pink healing flesh, no longer angry and sore. What came to my mind was not that I was now disfigured or incomplete. No, what came to mind was something I tried to instill in all of the girls I had taught over the years. I had studied the fight for women's rights in the UK and in America. Nothing had touched me more than a speech by Sojourner Truth, once a slave. Her speech was "Ain't I a Woman." Ain't I a woman? I am Louisa Roberta Glasson Ellingham. I am a woman. A complete woman.

Going to my dressing table to get some knickers I started to grab the top ones and stopped. Going through them I pulled out and pulled on the peach lacey ones. Putting on some soft flannel pyjamas and my dressing gown I went downstairs and straight to the kitchen.

Going to the pantry I found the flour and ingredients for scones. Yes, gratefully there was a bag of currants. Just room in my hands for the tin of Yorkshire Red Tea.

Placing a bowl on the table I sifted the flour, sugar, salt and baking powder. I cut butter into small pieces and began to mix them into the flour with my hands. I lifted the mixture to my face and savoured the fragrance of it. Adding the milk and mixing it well I finally turned it onto my floured board. I began to knead gently just to combine everything well and form it. It was quite sensuous in my hands.

With the scones in the oven I turned to making a large pot of tea. I would use our largest pot and the tartan tea cosy my teachers had given me one Christmas. While it was brewing I placed on a tray; sugar, milk, some jam and finally the Devonshire Cream. Taking the scones from the oven I placed them in a cloth over a warm stone in the scone basket. They looked perfect with their egg-washed brown tops.

To be honest I was quite tired. I did manage to get everything arranged on a table in the living room in front of the fire. My family would arrive soon and find me on the sofa as if I had never left it, with Auntie Joan's woolen throw across my legs. I let Jack into the house and he immediately settled himself in front of the fireplace.

"And to whom do we need to give thanks for these scones?"

Martin asked this as he came down from changing after his afternoon ordeal. He had attended to an injured farmer in a very damp barn and he came in with wet clothes and muddy shoes. Coming in through the back door and using the back stairs he had not seen my thank offering. I did get up to meet him when I heard the door open.

I had given him a proper kiss and shooed him upstairs in only his pants and vest. I had laid out his pyjamas and dressing gown. He almost never left our bedroom in his pyjamas but surely he wouldn't redress himself. Thankfully he did veer from his protocol and came down looking much better than he had arrived.

It was Joan who answered his query. "Dad, Mum made the scones. They are so yummy. Let me pour your tea."

"But Louisa, you should not be in the kitchen working. We can handle the cooking until you are stronger."

"Martin, I am fine. I just wanted to do something to thank all of you for taking such good care of me."

With that Joan served Martin his tea and a plate with a scone and cream which of course prompted his usual response.

"Thank you Joan, but you should have left off the cream. You know I don't like to indulge in empty fat-ladened calories."

I couldn't resist a taunt. "Martin, what right have you to deprive a Devon farmer of his livelihood? Besides, you know you like it."

The wind had become even more fierce, but now it didn't matter. We were all home and safe. A new family, who were Indian, has moved to Portwenn and the wife makes and sells samosas from the house every afternoon. Martin had brought a box of vegetable samosas so no one had to cook supper. Joan made a second pot of tea and the kitchen was closed.

We were sitting quietly when James chimed in, "Thank you Mum. The scones were really good."

"That's sweet James, but I must tell you, you really have St. Benedict to thank for the scones."

"St. Bene...who?"

"James, Luk...you know, Mr. Jacobs, Emily's dad, called this afternoon. I talked to him a bit and he told me something about St. Benedict. He was a monk in the ancient Christian church. What Luk said helped me know how lucky I am to have a good family. And Martin, thank you for your concern, but I can tell you I feel much better now than when I was just lying on this couch earlier today."

With that I arose and gave hugs around. As I hugged and kissed Martin, I couldn't help but notice that there was no Devonshire Cream left on his plate.

*A reminder. Luk is an Episcopal priest.