NOAOS says that he misses the old me, that I am too quiet now, lost in my own thoughts or simply half asleep... he misses me.
I know he's right...I don't have anything to say...don't even have anything to write either.
'What would I talk about,' I ask.
'What you were reading or had read. A film, a news story. Something you had cooked or were intending to; what the dog did, what dad said. You had an opinion on everything.'
I mull this over then my digress button switches my thoughts again and I remember what had occupied me early this morning and wonder was it worth repeating. I had been thinking of a radio program I'd heard the evening before...a conversation between two comedians... Mark Steele and Jeremy ? Couldn't for the life of me remember his surname. I went through the alphabet...Jeremy A, Jeremy B etc.. I must have worried that particular bone for half an hour. As if my life depended on it. Then it came to me...Hardy, Jeremy Hardy...phew!
I'm still trying to think of something to say that would be worth the effort. How to explain that nowadays I don't have an opinion about anything because nothing has any importance and it all takes strength I don't have to justify this stance. I hate it...this aching tiredness that effects even inside my head. I realise that I have been quiet for sometime. I have to say something.
‘I should think you would welcome the break,’ I say weakly.
‘Ah Ma! You’ll be back...just get the chemo over with and you will be back to normal.’
‘I hope so, love.’ And I want to add “or it has not been worth the effort” but I don’t have the energy.