Well, here I am again.  It’s not so very long since I last wrote but my, oh my, has life been busy.  It was with enormous sadness that we put the computers in the laptop bag and headed back to Tortola at the beginning of May.  As the previous post noted, a very dear friend of ours was very ill.  We arrived home in the BVI at midnight (thanks to delays from regional carrier LIAT).  The next two days were a whirlwind of activity as we reorganised and then I zipped off to learn about the delights of the American medical system.

As horrid as the experience was for me, it was far worse for my “other mother”, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.  It was an experience I hope never to have again.  It wasn’t all bad – life is seldom that way – I met Luis the taxi driver, whose warmth, compassion and ability to tell a distracting tale was invaluable.  Ruth, a little fiesty, loving soul who was invaluable in navigating the maze of health-care in a Spanish-speaking world, was magic – she had the ladies at a fast-food outlet in the grounds of the hospital providing A’s daily injection of caffeine for free.

There were some wonderful nurses and some who didn’t get it – that nursing is about care and compassion.  My butting heads with a 6’3″ male head nurse who was a bully who scared both A and her daughters earned me a nickname that was brilliantly mis-heard when voiced for the first time … I could swear up-down-and-sideways that Ruth called me “her Gringa” (accurate, if surprising), but it turned out that the hospital staff and Ruth had named me “the Vikinga” on account of my colouring and willingness to engage in battle for A.  I am flattered by this name, even if I feel that it wasn’t honestly earned.

A didn’t want to “do battle” with her cancer, and I can’t blame her for that.  She wanted to be taken home to the islands to live out her days at home so, using a Trekkie phrase, we “made it so.”  It was a pretty harrowing journey, but we got her home and, with J, A’s best friend of 50 years in residence, and overnight “nursing” taking care of the big stuff, we settled into a new routine.  Those of you reading this who have walked this path before me don’t need to be told how rocky and hard it is.  For those of you who have yet to do it I offer no advice, just the hope that it isn’t as sad as our journey.

We were in two minds as to whether we should come back home or stay to take care of A, but she was adamant that we stick with our plans.  It’s a tough thing to do.  But we’re glad to be home, in spite of missing her terribly.  Now the challenge is to send her bulletins of what we’re doing and the moments of beauty that we find in each day.  She’s a passionate lover of purple, so here’s a picture we sent just a couple of days ago:

I hope that it made A smile.