The Ubiquitous Fan

I’m convinced it’s the steroids. My sleep is all over the place anyway but being wide awake at 3am is probably the steroids. This time I also have a runny nose and sneezing. Don’t sit next to me I’m constantly sniffing. Hopefully it’ll pass.

In my head Christmas is still a long way off. I’m not sure if it’s because I have a new obsession or because, according to the medics, 2020 is my last one.

A couple of years ago I found myself in Granada in Spain. It was about a year after my first cancer episode. My friend Mark and I decided to do the banger rally challenge “Gibraltar or Bust" which involved all sorts of challenges none less than sleeping in tents. After 50+ years of friendship it was our first adventure together. While in this beautiful part of Spain we booked a guided tour of the Moorish quarter, the Alhambra. I was impressed. It was the first holiday I’d had without Tricia who didn’t mind in the slightest. Tricia had popped off to spend 4 weeks in Australia doing her own road trip with Lauren. Anyway, I bought a ubiquitous fan. You know, one of those folding fans used for wafting air to cool yourself down. Not particularly cheap but quite a pretty thing. An ideal little gift for Tricia. The grandchildren got a huge teddy called Claude.

I’ve been contemplating a peculiar change in my thinking habits. I seem to be closing off huge tracts of thought. I think I'm formulating an idea.

Imagine life's a fan on a humongous scale. A fan that's full of opportunities. So big you can’t see the edges. Our aim, as we grow, is to open this massive fan as wide as possible. It’s full of ridges and valleys, you need to keep moving forward but in any direction. Some people follow a fairly narrow path often with some success. Some explore as many ridges and valleys as they can. Some tread lightly, some leave a magnificent trail. The options are seemingly endless. Sometimes you may find yourself travelling alone, often in company. I for one thrive on travelling in company.

At some point we become aware of the edge of the fan, we become aware of our mortality. It OK it’s still a long way in the distance and we still have choices. It’s not quite as easy to move from ridge to ridge or valley to valley but we still can if we choose.

Sometimes, for some, for a myriad of reasons, the edge of the fan suddenly appears. Sometimes in full view and very close. Some of us simply won’t see it at all.

My fan is doing two things, nothing I can do about it. Firstly it’s beginning to reveal it’s edge and it’s pretty close, still a bit of a foggy edge, however it’s too close for comfort. The second thing that’s happening is it’s folding itself up. In my case it’s almost completely folded. All our fans have been folded a bit by Covid. But it’s Cancer Not Covid that's folding mine.

I find myself following an increasingly narrow fan. My opportunities are becoming limited by my health, medical intervention, fatigue and more. The ridges and valleys are simply not there. But I’m doing my best to still make my narrow journey on my fan worthwhile. I feel that I’ve been recently travelling on a ridge. When I look back on the journey I’ve taken it’s full of good things, lots of joy and satisfaction. Sometimes my valleys were deep sometimes my ridges were scary but I’ve arrived here and that's that. The narrow ridge I now find myself on is treacherous. There's still room for others but I’m focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Not looking too far ahead or side to side. I know Tricia is always within reach as are many of you. (Especially if you’ve read this far)

Christmas is almost upon us, yesterday, while home alone, I put up some more decorations the house is beginning to look a lot like Christmas. The Christmas shirts are out as is my last minute Christmas cake recipe. Our Boxing day walk is looking promising and my Tuesday coffee club continues. Christmas plans are being made.

I’ve got myself a little domestic electrical project to keep me occupied.

Christmas is beginning to shape up nicely.