in the balance

 

During the days of M's hospitalisation; not quite two weeks, thankfully, I was subject to fear of the most extreme character. I worked and slept, received and made telephone calls. I could barely eat; my body was rigid with anxiety. These two grid drawings, entitled 'in the balance', were made whilst I awaited news of M's condition. The act of drawing calmed and engaged my mind in a manner that was most beneficial. I have since understood that I was using the measured process of making the grid drawings in much the same fashion as I did when I first began to make them; on the occasion of my mother's hospitalisation five years ago.

These two drawings marked the cessation of work for a while; on M's return from hospital, and in the days immediately after his discharge, my entire concern was for his welfare-no drawings were made.

I have since resumed work upon these subtle, idiosyncratic drawings; have resumed my practice of working in long series, and titles for these series spring unbidden to mind. Thus far I have completed 'hitherto', 'henceforth'( for Minos), 'hereafter'( for Silas), 'be that as it may', 'en plein air', and am working on 'in the groove'. I have changed the format slightly, beginning the drawing eight squares from the top of the page instead of, as formerly, ten squares. 

It is with a sense of profound relief that I work each day at these drawings, with the advent of summer and M's gradual return to health, the palette of colours that I choose has lightened, and 'sweetened', containing as it does , pale rose pink, an equally pale soft green and blue, lilac, light coffee colour, amongst others.' In the balance' has deep blues and black, with some neon orange; the colours of a street at night in the winter time. 

It gives me joy to write of M's recovery, to witness each day his ability to achieve a little more, even though our experience of Covid 19 has had an effect of the most far reaching nature. 

Minos

 

The months of Spring were months of recovery for M, and the last months of Minos's life. Towards the end of April, he suddenly became extremely ill, having developed blood clots in both hind legs and lungs; a condition we had been advised about, and had medicated him against. There was no hope for our suffering cat, even though I had wished that he could slip away there in the garden, we were obliged to take him to the vetinary surgeon, where the dose to bring about the end of his life was administered. 

We buried him in a cardboard coffin beside his brother, Silas, whom he had survived by seven months, in the garden, and planted pansies over his grave. The garden, despite the presence of the multitude of bees, and gatherings of little birds, seems almost unbearably quiet without him. 

I remind myself that both he and Silas lived long, full lives, lives began at the lodge in Hampshire, continued in my mother's garden in Hampshire, and concluded after many years with M and I in Somserset. I remember, also, the game Minos played with an empty snail shell in the days before his death; leaping and diving, and pouncing like a kitten despite his fifteen years. A chapter has closed. I feel intense grief for our beloved cats, but above all, an overwhelming gratitude for their having lived with us in mutual companionship and, it is not too fanciful to say, love.

 

covid 19

 

Only now, at a remove of almost six months do I feel able to recount the events of January 2021. Then, snow fell outside the window, a light fall, clothing the back garden beneath a shroud of white. Today, a day of warmth and sunlight, some days before midsummer, the honeysuckle is in fragrant bloom, and the bees visit the sprawling cotoneaster beyond the window in humming droves. 

Midway through the month of January, M and I contracted Covid 19. M rapidly became extremely ill, developing pneumonia and a bacterial chest infection. Witnessing his desperate attempts to draw air into his lungs was terrifying. I called for an ambulance and M was admitted to hospital in Bath, where he was placed in Intensive Care, unable to breathe without the aid of a ventilator.

Each day, the hospital telephoned me with reports of his condition. I was advised that he may not survive his hospital admission. Days passed in fear and illness; I was less affected by the virus than M, but nevertheless, I was subject to muscular weakness, fever and the complete loss of the sensations of taste and smell. 

I slept on the settee downstairs, each evening waiting for the bulletin from the hospital, curling up under my cardigan to sleep after I had made telephone calls to M's mother and our families, advising them of his progress. Minos slept with me, folding himself into a succint coil beside the settee, only leaving my side to perambulate the snowy garden, before returning to take up his position once more. 

There came the day that , after a week of cautious calls from the hospital, that the staff were able to tell me that M was considered well enough to leave Intensive Care, to the cheers from the dedicated team of doctors and nurses who had supervised his care. I was overjoyed, my relief and pleasure knew no bounds; I made delighted telephone calls to family and friends.I had thought that I would not see M alive again; to hear his voice on the telephone following his discharge from Intensive Care onto the Respiritory ward was almost too much of joy.

In the weeks after his return home, M made slow, but steady progress towards health. he has been restored to life and health, even though he still tires easily, and reports that sometimes he feels twenty years older than before. He shall retire towards the end of this month, and, with gratitude immeasurable, we live each day in quiet love and companionship.