War and the Lady.

I suppose today’s first post should be a debrief on the latest battle in the War of the Cancerous (probably) Kidney. But something happened in the post hostility period which was of more immediate significance than the mere matter of whether I’m to live on or die soon: I had the first extended conversation with the Lady B for many a long year (I also talked to her dear mama and sister, but separately.)

She’s changed. She’s more relaxed, more self-assured; her voice is a little deeper and the quality of its modulation and diction grown even closer to perfection. Out has gone the fragile and eminently lovable deviant, and in its place has grown a mature woman of compelling poise and beauty. Whether or not she’s still possessed of that engaging feminine assertiveness I have no way of knowing, but I think it highly likely.

So what else could I do but be happy for her and offer congratulation, especially since she’s effected the change through determination and dedication. She’s beaten her demon, and few people can make that claim.  If she were my daughter and I were permitted the sentiment, I would say that I felt truly proud of her. The fact that she isn’t, and that her success has taken her beyond my orbit (especially at a time when I most needed her presence), is a minor personal tragedy which I have long grown used to dealing with. Is it not a fact that wisdom grows with the application of hard lessons and periodic trials? I think it probably is.

The biggest shock, however, took several minutes to become manifest. The Lady B is to become a mother in the merry month of May. How should I deal with that, except to instruct myself most forcibly that what happens on another planet is none of my business? Besides, there was never any prospect of she and I having that sort of relationship. Relative ages are usually a decisive factor in such matters, and I doubt I would have wanted it anyway. And yet it does matter because she has been so very precious to me for such a long time, and still is.

I have a feeling that the child will be a daughter, and I carry the hope that she will be every bit as appealing as her own dear mama. I also wonder whether she will be called Isabella.