When I arrived at the hospice for my second counselling
session, Trish asked me how I had been coping since we last met.
“So, so,” I said. “But I have made one decision.”
“And that is?”
“That I’m going to take your advice and start looking for a
new partner.”
“Then you are making
progress. The last time we met you couldn’t contemplate doing that. Do you know
what you’re looking for?”
“Yes, I do. I’m looking for someone I can share my life
with.”
“Don’t expect to find a replacement for Liz,” Trish said.
“Expecting to find the kind of happiness you’ve had with Liz twice in a lifetime would be expecting too much.”
“I realise that,” I said. “And I’m keeping an open mind.”
“Just before we parted company last time, you mentioned a
feeling of impending doom. Why don’t you tell me about it.”
I took a sip of water before I answered. “The best way I can
describe it is that it’s like I’m driving into an accident I know is going to happen, but never actually does. It’s
just an ongoing threat. I feel it if I wake up in the night, but mostly when I
wake up in the morning. It’s very unpleasant.”
“When did you first notice this feeling?”
“I suppose I started to notice it about three months ago,
although I have the feeling it’s been hanging around for a lot longer than
that. I’d assumed it was Liz being on the verge of dying that caused it, but
gut feeling tells me there’s more to it than that.”
“Well let’s try and get to the bottom of it,” Trish said.
“Describe what goes through your mind when you get this feeling.”
“It’s hard to put into words, but I’m aware of having the
feeling I’ve done something wrong, like I’ve caused the accident …’
“The one that never happens.”
“Yes, that one. Silly, isn’t it?”
“Nothing’s silly, there’s a reason for everything. Go on.”
“I’ve caused the accident, and I’m going to be punished for
it.”
“Then it’s not likely to be the fact that Liz is dying that
is causing the problem, because you can’t be held responsible for her having
brain tumours. When you talk about expecting to be blamed for whatever happens,
do you also expect to be punished for
what happens?”
“Very definitely. It was my fault, so I should be punishment
for it.”
“Are we talking of physical punishment? Or punishment in the
form of being deprived of something you hold dear. The love of your mother, for
example?”
This was getting heavy, but something was stirring from
within and I had the feeling Trish was getting somewhere.
Extract from my book WILL YOU TELL HER, OR SHALL I? A true
story. My story. The story of how I lived with the ten-year terminal illness of
my wife. Available on Amazon Kindle. www.amazon.com
Twitter: Maximillian19
FB: facebook.com/Booksthepublishersmissedcom
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