THE THREE C'S AND "WHAT KATY DID."
the KatyI 'm talking about was the lively girl, tomboy heroine from a favourite childhood book of mine. sorry blokey blokes - you probably didn't read it, but those of us who were girl children might remember? Katy was feisty and fun, full of energy, often awkward and in a pickle and with a quick temper but warm heart. numerous siblings, aunties .... and then a cousin who arrived at the family home, sick, saintly and dying. or gently declining? I believe she was called Cousin Helen: and I refuse to check my references (or to be corrected) as this is how I am happy to remember it.
Cousing Helen had some mysterious ailment from which she was gradually fading away; she lay on a day couch. in a lovely room next to an open window, fresh flowers by her bed each day, smiling sweetly, welcoming in the various boisterous children, dispensing kindness, words of guidance, kissing the hurts better, patching up disagreements .... and never once complained of pain, discomfort, loss. This was my childhood myth of illness, and I knew that if ever I had to face it my life, this is who I would be; pale and interesting, angelically embroidering samplers with little home truths on them, to give as gifts, reading the classics, and gathering loved ones around me, singing and playing piano until everyone quietly tiptoed on as I gently drifted off to sleep. Probably after an occassional dose of some lollipop-flavoured laudinum and a dash of brandy, dispensed by a kindly old doctor who delivered me at birth.

What a load of old bollocks. I was convinced that something magical happened once you were ill .... there was pain, yes, but somehow angels surrounded you in a bubble of oblivion, so that pain became remote, you floated gently, poignantly in a mist of tranquil detachment from the world of ordinary trivia, and a sort of wisdom and peacefulness descended on you.

I recently looked up books about illness, for children, to help them understand a parents experience through chronic illness. Haven't looked at much of the content yet but sure hope it's a little more real than the images I grew up with. If not I shall write one: and call it "The year My Mum was Crumpled, Collapsed and Crabby." ( a child's eye view of Hepatitis C)

I believe there was also a sequel to Katy's story: she fell of a swing and damaged her legs and spine and became, herself, confined to the couch for a year. At first she was cross and crotchety...... but with Cousin Helens inspiration, also transformed into the angel on the sick bed.

As for me .... with various health problems running up to the Hep C diagnoses, I have now been largely inactive and unwell for three years, and pretty much housebound for two. Crumpled, Collapsed and Crabby pretty much describes at least several moments during the average day. I do have moments of ... well, lets not go so far as to say sweetness and light, but of being reasonably pleasant and not unbearable. They may not last ......

Probably lucky for the majority of people in my life that I am living at some distance from previous social circles. They don't have to put up with me. My husband does ... and chooses to. And still enjoys my company and remains calm, level, understanding.

Obviously, in this household, it is the carer and not the patient, who has the saintly disposition.
(thank you darling!) I have often read, from post-treatment heppers, that the disease and experience has made them a better person. I will put my faith in that experience, since that is how they tell it .......
but would like to ask, at what point does this transformation of self-improvement and growth become manifest? I am three months into treatment and no sign of it yet!!

Will certainly let you know, when it shows up, and am willing to share a little of it, too!

meanwhile, I remain collapsed, crumpled and crabby - and I am sure my daughter would agree.
xxx eva