Lembram-se de há uns dias ter falado de uma "fã" estrangeira do UJ, que me mandou um mail, em que ela dizia o seguinte?
"Why, oh why, have I never learned Spanish so that I could understand the text that goes with these marvelous photographs? Why, oh why, am I not able to understand the words of someone who can create such visual pleasure via romance combined with just a touch of wicked cruelty? And why, (oh why?) is it that one of my favorite songs by Prince is one of the few things I understand in your blog?"
Pois é, continuei a corresponder-me com ela, nasceu nos Estados Unidos... o pai é Irlandês, a mãe norte americana. Afinal ela conhecia Portugal... apenas não conseguiu distinguir na escrita se eramos espanhois ou portugueses... tanto que me perguntou se a minha "selva urbana" era Lisboa!
Hoje recebi um mail dela, a dizer-me que também tinha começado um blog há pouco tempo... resolvi ir até lá e ver do que se tratava. Sabem o que encontrei? Uma mulher como nós, que vive exactamente os mesmos problemas que nós... uma mulher que encaixaria na perfeição no UJ... um mulher que enfrenta a tragédia da doença e da morte!
A mãe tem um cancro, e ela acompanha-a na sua caminhada para a morte... conta-nos no seu blog o que sente.. os medos, as angustias, a vontade que tem de desaparecer, o egoismo e o amor que sente enquanto a doença vai consumindo a mãe tanto fiscia como psicologicamente... mede 1.70 e já só pesa 36 kilos.
É um texto escrito de maneira simples, mas cheio de sentimento. Deixei lá um comentário a dar-lhe algum conforto, e gostaria de pedir a todos os paineleiros, que perdessem alguns segundos do pouco tempo que têm para fazer o mesmo... tanto aqui como lá... Peço isto, porque sei que vocês o irão fazer com todo o carinho do mundo. Deixo aqui um dos textos dela, infelizmente escrito em inglês...</p>
Sunday, November 27, 2005 Home for a Day
This is harder than I thought it would be, in ways that I never expected. Mom was very glad to be home and I'm glad I could take her there.
She weighs about 80 lbs in the 5'7" frame. Like a concentration camp survivor. I cook for her, she eats 3-4 bites of what I cook but can't manage any more. We talk, when she is able to, and we listen to lots and lots of NPR, jazz and blues. She says she is the incredible shrinking woman. She is right.
The hardest part is that no one will say, including her, that she is dying -- but we all know it. Cancer has metastisized, she sleeps about 18 hours a day. But she always says, "I'm okay. I'll be fine. I'm just weak." My brother says, "She needs to eat and get more exercise." How does she do those things? It is as if everyone thinks that next week she will be driving herself to the doctor, when in fact there is nothing more the doctor's can do.
The second hardest part is the loneliness. What to do when she is sleeping? People call and say, "How are things?" I'd like to say, "They suck and she is sleeping all the time and she can't eat and I want to cry." But she is sitting right there and, since we are not talking about death, I can't say much. I can't say, "I'm lonely and scared and I want to go home and sleep in my own bed.
I look at her a dozen times a day to see if she is still breathing. I want to pull her tiny emaciated body into my lap and rock her but I'm afraid I'll hurt her." I can't say these things because she is right there with me, and I am being cheerfully hopefull. I did tell her that I want to hold her on my lap and she said she wanted to do the same for me. "You want to hold me in your lap?" I asked. "Yes." "Momma, I weigh twice as much as you!" "Yes, but I'd still like to."
Tomorrow I go to work to read however many dozens of emails there will be. I will delegate about 4 of them, take care of about 2 of them and delete the rest. The next day, I go back for another week with mom.
On Saturday, I will meet with about a dozen close friends to celebrate my birthday (yesterday). We will meet at a good restaurant for dinner and then go dancing. There will undoubtedly be a lot of alcohol and flirtation until the dawn hours. Can't wait to go...