This week I had another of those moments. It's not easy to describe one's feelings when such a moment occurs. Not for me, anyway; others might well find it much easier. For myself, I find it necessary to resort to clichés and talk about the world standing still, my heart aching. Yes, those phrases may very well be considered clichés, but they are clichés simply because they do describe so accurately just how one feels. My heart did ache.
I wrote only last Friday about the day when my wife was told just what her problem meant and the moment when she said to me, "It's not going to go away, is it?" That was one of those moments that is etched so deeply on my memory that I shall never forget it. Nor will I ever forget my feelings as she said those words. I can only describe it as an aching heart.
And this week I had another heart-ache moment. It came about in a way that I can do no better than call trivial. A letter, addressed to the Old Bat, arrived from Nissan advising that her car was subject to a recall - something to do with the tightening torque of the steering wheel fixing bolt. That car has only been out of our garage twice in the last I don't know how many months. Six? Seven? Eight? On both occasions, I drove it: once to charge up the battery after we had called out our breakdown company, the other to buy a new battery. I had suggested, very tentatively, towards the end of last year that we should perhaps consider selling her car but the Old Bat vetoed that idea as she wanted to retain her independence. Since then, she may perhaps have driven the car once. She can no longer walk to or from the car without assistance although once in the car she can drive perfectly well.
Anyway, to get back to the letter. I said I would take care of the matter. Much to my surprise, she suggested that the time has come to sell the car.
I find it difficult to imagine - no, not difficult, impossible to imagine the thoughts that go through somebody's head when, at a comparatively young age, they have to face up to the fact that they will never again be able to do something as simple as walk to the car, drive away, park and walk to a shop or whatever.
I know she's not in pain, she has told me so, but she must get so frustrated at her lack of mobility, and at the knowledge that it will never improve. All the same, as a fellow Lion remarked when we were talking yesterday, she always presents a cheerful face to the world even though, as he remarked, her condition has worsened so much over the last two or three months.
Another sunset, this one as seen from the back garden.