Thursday, 25 August 2016

I had a lovely letter

from someone in the bookshop knitting group, the woman who is going through the physical, mental, and emotional trauma of chemotherapy.
I wanted to tell her I cared in a practical sort of way so I made her a "chemo-cap" from some soft cotton. I made it in a cheerful sort of colour that I thought she would like. It's not a colour I would wear but, for her usual colouring, it will be good and it won't drain any colour she might have in her complexion. 
I really didn't care whether I got an answer or not because, in a selfish sort of way, doing it was for me as well as her. It made me feel better. 
I probably have an over-active imagination but I thought of her being frightened, angry, and confused about why it had to be her. 
What she was knitting the last time I saw her had been a chemo-cap for herself. The colours she had chosen were angry - and she had, perfectly understandably, broken down when she had told us what was going to happen. I felt as guilty as  all out. She could tell us but she could only share the fact. We couldn't take  on any of her pain. Pain is incredibly personal. 
And then I got her letter. She thanked me. Then she told me how fortunate she was - fortunate because was so much older than some of the people she has now met.  I had never thought of cancer in that way. It is still frightening and I don't doubt she is still angry and frightened but she has channeled that into a much more positive way of thinking. 
I wonder if I could think that way? 
Today I am off to be a "steward" for the knitting and crochet at the showgrounds for the annual RAHS show. I'll listen to the judge as she makes decisions and help to put things on display ready for the opening at the beginning of September. It will be an interesting day but I will think of my fellow knitter. I might even suggest she aims to put something in next year. Her work is excellent - and surely she will be here. 

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