As you know, V and I have been there.
The difference is it made us all too aware that we should continue to do it while we can and do it all the more.
In Ann's case she had a point: I did get a second attack which was better having at home! It's the gamble of life; with that history who could have imagined I'd be here and she, who seldom even caught a cold, would not? I try to be philosophical about it, but it still sucks.
You know, just yesterday, after lunch, I was sitting on the terrace and it looked like summer had finally come back; I realised that I had one sin of ommission that I can remember: right after she died, when I was 72, my sight was still pretty good enough for driving and being confident about it, and instead of fearing doing my French number again would just break my heart for nothing, I should have grabbed it and flown out the nest and broken that demon's back. Yesterday, what with cataracts etc., I realised it was probably too late - unless this apartment sells, and the eventual ops turn out well, thus giving me cause for that final trip up north again. Wednesday I go for two pre-op hospital tests in connection with the eyes. I hope an appointment for the actual removal of those cataracts comes soon.
