Autumn is my favourite time of year, I'm so glad it's here.
Sweltering temperatures and lack of sleep rob me of initiative and proactivity - things I have really needed over the summer. All that oppressive heat and humidity of five hotter- than-hell heatwaves has been only one reason making the season so difficult to struggle through.
My brother, David, has had complex health problems for decades. He was hospitalised with throat cancer for two months. He'd already beaten it last year with a six week course of radiotherapy. When the cancer returned, he was out of treatment options. The family were called in three times because doctors thought the end was near. Twice he bravely rallied but on the third time, the cancer won. My heart feels torn into pieces.
Simply not giving in was a very Dave thing to do. David was a keen card player, he knew he had been dealt a poor hand, but he was determined not to show it and lose the game. He was a bit of an anarchist, especially when it came to dealing with the minor bureaucrats and jobsworths we all have to endure in our daily lives.
David would relish in winning arguments with these people. In the end this anti-authority attitude helped him beat the medical odds for a long, long time. Without being overtly rude to the clinicians telling him he’d already lost out, beating the system was one of the things that made David tick and he was always being told his days were numbered.
We were with David 10 years ago when a hospital consultant told him he was “on his last legs” and a mere bout of flu would finish him off, two doses of covid later and he was still with us; David HAD to prove him wrong and walk back into that room grinning and smiling.
Deep down David must have known the odds were finally against him, but he was still determined to beat them, go home and drive his X1 over the Millau Viaduct in France, a dream he never got to fulfil. We lost him aged 73.
David would relish in winning arguments with these people. In the end this anti-authority attitude helped him beat the medical odds for a long, long time. Without being overtly rude to the clinicians telling him he’d already lost out, beating the system was one of the things that made David tick and he was always being told his days were numbered.
We were with David 10 years ago when a hospital consultant told him he was “on his last legs” and a mere bout of flu would finish him off, two doses of covid later and he was still with us; David HAD to prove him wrong and walk back into that room grinning and smiling.
Deep down David must have known the odds were finally against him, but he was still determined to beat them, go home and drive his X1 over the Millau Viaduct in France, a dream he never got to fulfil. We lost him aged 73.
In the midst of all the hospital visits and running around doing errands he couldn't do himself, we had an offer on our house for the full asking price. Ostensibly, this was good news. The buyer wanted us out in six to eight weeks as they had already exchanged on their own sale and were staying with friends until the move. All three houses on our own shortlist had no upward chain, neither party needed a mortgage so it looked do-able. We accepted the offer, and put solicitors and removals in place.
We were well on course to exchange in 6 and complete in 8 weeks. Just as we were at the point of agreeing dates for exchange and completion, our buyer unexpectedly pulled out and ghosted all communication. "Ongoing costs of maintenance of an older house" was the only explanation we were given. Goodness knows what their level three surveyor told them. We're mystified why our house should cost any more than any other characterful property to maintain. We had to pay £2k in abortive costs and our retirement dream was in tatters.
In retrospect, we wonder if we were unknowingly in a contract race with another property and the other one was quicker to get there. Our buyer didn't even attempt to renegotiate the price.
Our home has been put back on the market. A £10k price reduction has yielded only one new viewing. We notice another similarly priced property in our village has also had its sale fall through and is back on the market. Our immediate next door neighbours tell us they had three sales fall through before they moved! The prospect of this happening multiple times is a dismal prospect.
Whilst David was in hospital, my mother was also admitted after a fall which broke her leg. She'd been suffering from heart failure for some time and quite frail (96). Poor mum was bounced back and forth from the hospital to a rehabilitation centre. When David died at the end of July, we think she gave up and only thirteen days later, we lost her as well.
I haven't been able to work on pattern creating since late Spring. Whilst there are multiple things to be sorted and obstacles to overcome, I've found it impossible to concentrate on the more creative aspects of my life.
My two sisters have been invaluable support and we've shared alot of the work out, making decisions after careful thought and exchanging views on our sisters only Messenger group; stepping in to help when one of us gets overwhelmed.
I can't work creatively when I'm upset or stressed; when both occur at the same time, there's no chance. Compartmentalisation has never been one of my strengths. I have become increasingly desperate as summer wore on to get back some control over how I spend my time, and also for there to be something positive to smile and be happy about.
The Autumn equinox tomorrow feels like the perfect time to recalibrate my emotions. There's been very little opportunity for the three remaining members of our family to properly grieve. For the past few months we've been concentrating on what needs doing, putting the feelings somewhere out of sight just to get through the practicalities.
There are undoubtedly difficult days to come but with the arrival of a new season, I'm hoping there will be more of the things that help me feel like myself again.
