Not much happening here this morning. I am not feeling much. But perhaps I am feeling a little bit empty. Kamalashila is still in hospital. He can go home when the calcium has gone down to safe levels. And when the blood is looking good and there are no signs of any adverse reactions after the first round of treatment. It may be he can go home tomorrow. But perhaps not. He has been in hospital for two weeks now. I have been visiting every day, always arriving around 4 and leaving around 7pm. I do not do too well with this kind of regularity, but I tell myself it won’t be for long. And it is for a most definite good and dear cause and I do it gladly. There is just something oppressive for me about these kind of routines.
I usually arrive with coffee. We have been trying out different kinds. It is always a latte. We have been trying chilled ones these last days. Yesterday I seemed to have hit bull’s eye with a carton of latte. But it is not sure how long that one will last. There is a long list of foods that seemed to get the green light initially, but then needed to be dropped a few days later as they no longer appealed. Porridge has been struck off a while ago. He is still nauseous, and doesn’t have much appetite. He does have a few things he can and will eat. This afternoon I will try some Indian sweets, which seemed to interest him when I mentioned them yesterday.
I am sitting here on my yellow couch and now I clearly sense I am weary. This situation is all-consuming. There is not much mental space for much else. Kamalashila’s body needs to find some sort of balance. And on my side I need to maintain my sanity and sensibility. I keep touching in with friendship, love, tenderness and inspiration. Also I keep coming back to the space of my heart. Finding myself strangely happy and alive when I arrive there.
