Five Years

Wednesday began under foreboding skies. Her Highness and I met some of our friends to walk the Ricki Ave. trail on my last day on prednisone. Ricki will be too hard for me again soon, unless the drug is approved or I go back on prednisone. After the walk, we went into the village. I had to pick up a prescription and more groceries.

As we walked, the rains came, and I had no proper coat. I was soaked to the skin when we were done, and then we went into the village to go shopping. When we got home, it was lunch time and then it was nap time. After such a busy day yesterday, I was wanting a chill day, but I did get some little basket plants planted into some of the containers on the porch.

To help Her Highness lose weight, we went to Rollo Park in the afternoon to play fetch. She absolutely loves playing fetch, but she doesn’t return the ball to me. I chose not to teach her to do that so that I got more exercise. Now, that’s a bit of a disappointment for me. The sun was out though, so it was wonderful to be in the park.

And when I got home, I slid into the spa. As it’s getting warmer, I reckon it’s time to lower the temperature of the tub. It’s too hot now, but what a treat to have such an amenity at my disposal. It was lovely to just chill in the warm water. I’ve not a care in the world to worry me. And once out, it was soon time to feed the brood and hit the chaise for the night.

•

I heard from Frani. She was distant but thanked me for writing. She says I hurt her but that she has forgiven me. That is fucking bull shit. I said nothing to her. All I did was ask questions: Why are you yelling at me? Why are you mad at me? She says that she will not talk about what happened. She’d had a liter of wine and smoked dope; I don’t trust her memory at all. Frankly, what she’s offering is not appealing. She owes me an apology, but it’s clear that won’t be coming. I only want good, easy, comfortable friendships at this point in my life.

My clock is ticking. Life expectancy with pulmonary fibrosis is five years. Hence Sam’s advice about things being in order. I don’t see the point in pursuing a friendship with someone who has judged me and feels that I have failed. I’m proud to admit culpability. When Steve said he wanted out of our relationship, he was a gentleman. He took full responsibility for wanting out. He didn’t blame me. However, I responded to say that I understood. I also said that I knew I was the cause of his wanting out. So, we separated with a mediator and never once did either of us say anything negative of the other. In fact, we supported each other, and our mediator said ours was the most honorable separation that she had ever witnessed. I’m very proud of us both, and that’s why we’re still such close friends.

If I had something to apologize to Frani for, I would. But she was the attacker, and as all of you know, if I am attacked, I cannot speak because I don’t feel safe. That relationship is dead.

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After dinner, I chose a movie, got it started, got up, and went to the shed to fetch my weed whacker, and I got a good lot done of the yard. I worked until the battery ran out, and now there’s not much left to do. I can finish up in 15 minutes today, and then I start raking all the twigs and cones up. I’m looking forward to doing that and more over the coming week that will be warm and sunny.

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I’ve known about the five years now, for a week. I’ve been thinking, what do I want to do? All I want to do is stay here every day for as long as I can. Every year, my garden will be more and more amazing. And I will always have lots of wood for essential Winter fires.

It’s weird to have a decay date. It’s an average figure, so it’s still a crap shoot in a way. It’s weird like knowing when Patsy is going to die with MAID.  I feel something, but it’s gentle. I just have no idea how to name these feelings. I think I feel like when you mention to someone that you’re reading such and such a book (but you haven’t finished it yet), and your friend says: “Did you ever imagine Dirk would be the killer?”

So, you finish the book, but it’s not like before. I don’t feel sad. I can’t think of a reason to be sad. Sheba can go to a good home. She’ll be twelve if I get to five years, thanks to this drug. The cats will be fine. If I die in the house, they might eat me. I’m not prone to sadness over disease/death. I can deal with it.

I'm not telling people here about my prognosis. But here, I have no secrets.

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I woke up angry at Frani. She said I “treated her badly” and that she “forgives me.” What utter bullshit. She infuriates me, so I wrote to her this morning, told her she was an addict who misremembers that night, and that I have fucking NOTHING to apologize for. It felt good to tell her off, and I didn’t sign it. I just ensured that I never ever hear or think of her again. I want to forget about her now forever.