The title of this post is a phrase that regularly turns up on my Duolingo Italian refresher course. It means: I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It came up time and again in my meditation earlier today. Piangere o ridere. Ridere o piangere. Just now I was crying. And just before that I was smiling.
Ten minutes before Kamalashila’s class starts, the medical team arrives to connect a new bag of fluids. He has phoned yesterday to tell them not to come at that time, but the message has not come through. They won’t have time to take the bloods, but in no time we work as a team, have the bag on a clothes hanger, taped to the top of a bamboo stick, the stick leaning against the wall next to his meditation seat. And all is set. Only he texts me a few minutes later that he needs me to pass him the tape, so he can tape the tube running from the bag to the canula to his hand. All set for the class then now. I feel stress coursing through my body.
The calcium is still going up, and so is the number of bags of fluids, and the pile of used plastic gear in our kitchen bin. I have learnt to disconnect the tube when the bag is empty. The doctor tells me in the hallway, behind the closed door to the virtual vihara, that the plan is to go onto two litres of fluids from now. They will take the bloods when the second bag arrives today. The fluid needs to go through slowly in order not to put too much strain on the heart.
Yesterday a friend who is a potter came to show her designs for the cremation urns. They look amazing. We don’t know whether she should rush making them or take it easy. The calcium is not behaving well, but yesterday a phone call came from the oncology nurse. The results of the biopsy are in. It is not the cancer they thought it would be. More information to follow early next week. Someone messages me to say they are looking forward to seeing me later that day, potentially. Plans are by definition provisional in our lives at the moment. I stick a laughing emoji on. Then hesitate to replace it with a crying one.
