Izzy & Noah

Fifty-Six: My Hobby, Daily Routine, and Weekend Dreams

"But what are you really good at?" he asks with interest.

"I want to be a writer, write novels. I know this idea is crazy, but it came to me a few years ago. ˝ I say aloud.

This is the first time I have expressed my wishes.

Tina asked me the same thing today, and I thought about it a lot.

About the fact that this work fulfils me, that I have found myself in it, but... still, I want more, more from life, to be brave, to be alive, to be exciting.

Adrenaline fills my veins. I want to say so much, I want to talk so much.

"Have you written anything yet?" he asks.

" I have something, I won't say it's perfect, because I'm still hunting, and all the expressions and gestures and shapes and everything that's necessary to give the reader a sense of what's happening and where and how. "I say in one breath.

But the desire does not go away.

So that we realise how big a project it would be, how much energy and above all time it would take from me, what I would want, how I would polish the book down to the last detail before I would be truly satisfied and publish something.

No, that's not for me.

I can't do that.

"Can I read it? Is it a secret? Would you be embarrassed if I read something of yours?" he asks.

"Maybe I should, I'm not ready for anyone to see this yet," I say, blushing.

As I remember my dirty thoughts to put in the story.

"Follow your dreams, no matter how they turn out. Promise me that you will put something out there, that you will leave a mark on this world, that you will leave something behind. He encourages me.

"I promise, my love," I say and kiss him. I hope he forgets as soon as possible that I ever mentioned anything.

I'm still ashamed.

" So, Paris for the weekend? "I say to change the subject.

I want to change the subject.

" It seems so, my love. Together to the city of love. " Noah replies.

"But who will book the flight, the hotel, the restaurants, the transport... who will pack the suitcases?" I panic a little. I know it's a lot, maybe too much for me all at once.

"Calm down, dear, breathe. I'll book everything, everything will be arranged. Just let go, let things unfold as they will. Noah replies.

"Good, because I trust you and I know you'll sort it out, but it's such a mess and everything's happening so fast that I'm afraid I'm going to miss something." I speak.

I have two sessions this week. Two sessions with Tina.

"Come on, let's go to bed, if you want, we can talk a bit more there. Noah replies, pulling me to my feet. He puts the dirty dishes in the sink and leads me to his room.

To his room.

"I'm just going to take a shower, okay?" I say to Noah as he cleans up.

I get ready, brush my teeth and when I get to his room, he is already asleep.

He snores sweetly.

It's dark outside, the days are quite short. But thoughts are everywhere.

So much information, so much news. So many changes.

I sigh and head for my room.

I want to bury myself in my own thoughts.

Even though Noah's bed is bigger and better, mine suits me perfectly today.

I want to get away from everyone, especially to collect my thoughts, to delve deeper into my problems.

As I lie down, I realise how tired I am, how much adrenaline has coursed through me today, how mentally exhausting this job is and how many steps I am taking physically.

The light from the streetlamp seeps through a small crack in the blinds and I realise that I am not alone in this big city, that there are people I can rely on.

Having Luke over me at home, even though I feel uncomfortable around him, I know he would help if anything went wrong.

Noah's grandmother is downstairs and Katy and Tom are in the next building.

Paris for the weekend? Doesn't sound too bad. But that's why he postponed his treatment. Is that really good for him? How much time do you have? Nobody knows. Everyone is different, everyone follows their own path, and every path is the right one.

And this thought lulls me to sleep.

This night I do not dream, this night I am grateful that I am alive, that I am not sick, that I have people around me, this night I realise one thing, that family is something we cannot choose, but we can choose friends and they become family.

It's morning and the alarm clock beeps relentlessly.

I breathe in and out, get up three more times and then fly to Paris, we're leaving on Friday night and I'm happy, that's really what's been keeping me awake lately.

It's a cold morning, I notice as I open the window to check the weather and pull up the blinds.

I slowly get up and go to the bathroom to get ready, and when I'm fully dressed and oiled up, I check on Noah.

˝Good morning and goodbye my love, see you this afternoon when I get back. ˝ I plant a kiss on his lips, Noah is asleep, calm and relaxed.

I wish we could be together, having fun, drinking coffee and talking about things I can only talk about with him, because I think he is the only one who understands me.

As I turn, I realise one thing, I believe that everyone is sent to someone for a purpose in life and Noah was sent to me to heal, to reconnect with myself, to become that mischievous Izzy again, full of laughter and life.

I put on my coat and hurry up the stairs to the ground floor and beyond.

Oncology.

My thoughts are much calmer today than they have been the last few days.

I think of the past, of the days when I walked my dog in the woods, picking bluebells and violets that filled the kitchen with a pleasant smell.

I remember all the winters we spent as children in the village on a nearby hill, where we went sledging and downhill skiing, where we went crazy and had fun.

And I remember the day we moved to a city where everything was new, I didn't know anyone, I spent a few years in my room, behind four walls and at school, a busy time, I must admit.

I turned right, because I had arrived in front of the oncology department, where I was already climbing the stairs to the third floor, where there were wardrobes.

I changed my clothes and walked calmly towards the department.

After yesterday, a kind of peace had come over me.

Something strange.

When I got to the nurses' room, Anna and Suzy were already there, along with the night nurse, who was handing over.

It's as if nothing had happened yesterday, I've noticed this several times, that they don't talk about it, about death and suffering and emotions, because it's not that I'm in favour of it, but all these people who work in this department are very similar to me.

Good morning. I say hello and sit down.

And the day begins, always the same. And it gets easier every week, because I know more and more.

The day goes by in the blink of an eye and in between I write a text to Katy. ˝ How are you feeling, any morning sickness? ˝ I ask.

I know I haven't been a good friend lately; I have to admit that, but somehow, I'm also chasing myself in this life.