Let’s go back in time.

Hello lovely people

As i promised i will be back, so here i am. When you are this close to signing off, you take notice of every little detail, every change, all the moods of yours and others. I have always felt that smell, aroma, fragrances are close knit to memories. I remember different aspects and experiences of my life through smells. A particular odour/smell suddenly sends me back to a particular memory in childhood and another fills me with hatred and I suddenly brings myself back. I have asked my nurse to change the sanitiser she has been using because that takes me back to the day of my diagnosis. That was not a good day. It was a long bad day with no hope and lots of stress and confusion. My nurse was kind enough to use gloves and bought herself a new sanitiser and left the bottle in my room for others. I have always had a very vivid imagination and used to day dream a lot during the time of my dad’s sickness and death. So sometimes now it becomes hard for me to tell the difference between what really happened and what I only made up. But that is also true that I have always day dreamed about happy events. And happy events aren’t that many in my life.

The days around my dad’s demise, there was a lingering smell and sadness around that room. It had taken a long time for me to take my mind of it up until now. That stench is back. I try to cheat my brain with a quick sniff of something else and not get transported to that time. Recently the hand wash at my house has started sending me back to radiology department and I can’t do much about it. That hand wash is everyone’s favourite and has been bought in bulk. I am struggling with that particular smell. That fragrance used to be my favourite before all the radiation and brachytherapy fiasco. But now it makes me sick and I feel going through the same ordeal every time I wash my hands. I try hard to get back to the time when my mum used to cook for all of us in my childhood, that aroma of cooking, roasting and baking. Oh god is wonderful. I ask my mum time and again to cook in my house sothat I can get back to happy times. That was the time I felt safest in my life and happiest and most comfortable. But sadly my mum’s cooking has failed to transport me back to my happy place lately. When I talk about my fixation on the fragrances and smells, my ex husband and his family laugh about it and call me crazy now openly. I just want to get back to my feet and give a tight slap across his face and ask him why he can’t see that I am trying to cope with my new reality like that. Ha ha just kidding. He has his opinion and which doesn’t matter anymore. But then I am not a violent person and I am not going to do that.  Anyways cancer is like a ticking time bomb. How is it creeping inside your body, nobody can tell. Scans are not magic. Anyways, these little moments of getting back in time and enjoying it one more time are the blessings I have been given. I don’t want to exaggerate it or say that’s some kind of super power but I am special. My transportation is vivid and fills me with joy. 

Love

P