Ordinary Love

  

I have never been a big consumer of movies. That is probably one of the many legacies from my mum, who would reach to change channel anytime BBC or ITV would deign to broadcast a film in the 1960’s or 1970’s, announcing how she hated films for being too long.

 

I have a very clear criterion for a film I am likely to appreciate, that it is about plausible people in realistic scenarios. Sadly, that rather mild stipulation rules out almost anything that comes out of Hollywood these days, so I tend to steer clear of that material.

 

The exception arrives around this time of year, when Oscar nominees are announced and then awards given out. Last year I made a point of watching nearly all the nominees for best film and I ended up enjoying most of them. We have a good TV package here in Portugal so I am looking forward to repeating the positive experience over the next couple of months.

 

This year we stumbled into an early start, thanks to a bunch of content provided by my sister after her visit at New Year. That led us to watch a 2019 movie starring Lesley Manville and Liam Neeson called Ordinary Love. The experience proved very gratifying.

 

The context of the movie could almost have been created specifically for my wife and me. The title suggests real people in a real scenario, and the movie delivered what it said on the tin. The real scenario was that one of a long-term couple contracted cancer. Inevitably in our predicament, we do find ourselves attracted to stories about cancer. Sometimes these stories make us tearful, but they also have potential to teach us lessons and help us respond to the challenges we face.

 

What I loved the most about the movie was the way it focused on the couple and how they navigated their new situation. There were no huge plot twists or surprise revelations. The cancer and the resulting treatment were not over-dramatised, but felt completely typical of the experience of millions of couples around the world at any time, including my wife and me. The couple stumbles along, cancer is discovered, treatment results, the future path is left open. The only thing slightly unusual in the plot is that the couple had already lost their only child, perhaps to another illness or something like a car crash. That extra dramatic dimension was an important element in understanding the couple, but the film-makers did not let it distract from the main theme.

 

That theme was how the couple responded to the cancer diagnosis of one of them. Smartly, the focus was more on their emotional responses and less on the medical details of their particular case. Hence the beautifully conceived title of Ordinary Love. This is a story of an ordinary situation, exploring the responses of characters facing that situation, unique and life-shaping for them but, sadly, all too common around the world.

 

The medical details and experiences were not entirely absent from the drama. After all, this is a story about cancer. I found many parallels with our own experiences in these aspects of the movie. We have had times when we have questioned the medical service we have received, especially near the start when my wife campaigned to transfer our care to a facility she trusted more (a wise move, as it turned out). There are many scenes where Neeson and Manville are sitting together in soulless waiting rooms, making wild insinuations about what was really going on, and drawing unreasonable conclusions about the possible paths of progress of Manville’s cancer. We have had many similar thoughts.

 

The most interesting part of these aspects of the movie, to me at least, was trying to understand the thoughts and reactions of the couple, including their common and separate motivations. Like all such couples and like us, they are enduring parallel journeys to what may be separate destinations. Through these journeys they try their hardest to act as a team and to support each other, but individual factors intrude from time to time. Like us (I think), they show a lot of love and each displays impressive courage. But their unity does come under pressure at times, despite their best efforts. Sometimes a well-meaning intention to help actually becomes a problem. These scenes are wonderfully conceived and executed.

 

There is not a lot of interaction with other patients, as indeed is the case with my own situation and probably most others. But a bond gradually builds with one fellow patient and with his husband. Their diagnosis is more terminal and indicates a shorter survival time. The drama is, once again, understated and intensely believable.

 

Many things about cancer can make me tearful, and it came as no surprise when the film tugged at my emotions. This occurred whenever there was a poignant private scene between the two lead actors. I would project our own situation onto theirs and notice all the pitfalls and challenges, as well as a few rewards. Each would fall into the trap of assuming the thoughts of their partner and then acting on those thoughts. They believed they were acting in the interests of the couple and carrying out what their partner wanted, but this method is far from foolproof. As well as misunderstanding, it can lead to resentments and frustrations.

 

We make this particular mistake all the time, sometimes persistently and with lasting damage. For me, observing this was the most powerful takeaway from the movie, because I know I can improve and the film gave me some extra incentive and tools to do so.

 

So I am very happy that I saw Ordinary Love and could celebrate its excellence with empathy. Perhaps its most powerful message comes from its title. We all tend to classify our own experiences and predicaments as special and unusual but, in most cases, reality is much more humdrum. Everyone’s situation is indeed unique, but most elements are shared with countless others around the world. Cancer has changed our lives and many of our perspectives. But cancer is, until now, also an ordinary occurance in life. We are special, but add up everything special and the result is all too ordinary. And the emotion that can cut through the ordinariness with most effect is love. Flawed, flailing, imperfect love is the greatest weapon that we can deploy in tough situations. Those of us surrounded by love have the best chance of coming through challenges in reasonable emotional health. I am so grateful to my wife, and to many others, for powerful loving support during cancer, and Ordinary Love served a useful purpose too. 

Another Year to Celebrate

 

We are continuing our good start here in Portugal. We have now spent three months residing here, and my health has remained consistently strong through that time, with no new symptoms or recurrence of previous symptoms to report. My medication and treatment list has been consistent since we arrived here and seems to be working for now.

 

This good health is a blessing in so many ways. Looking back on the period just before our move, I can’t imagine how we coped and how we have somehow emerged on our feet.

 

I started this piece with something of a plan to document the progress of my cancer during 2024 and how we responded. 2024 did feel like a year of decisions. But how many of these decisions really were milestones involving genuine choices?

 

Throughout my illness, and probably for most others facing similar situations, there have been apparent choices, but I now suspect that mostly these are not real choices. Partly we may instead be using our thoughts and the opportunities for consultations to help us face up to new realities. Partly the illusion of choice may be to support a feeling of agency, convincing ourselves that we are active partners.

 

Upon reflection, it feels more accurate to characterise these milestones as events or developments rather than choices. Mostly, we listen to our medical advisors and accept what is usually an obvious path, even if this advice is often presented to us as a choice.

 

There have been many developments but arguably few true choices. The initial diagnosis took time to come into focus and remains incomplete. The major operation and initial radiation and chemotherapy all involved choice but felt more like mere acceptance of a clear reality. There seemed only one logical way to respond to the infection of October 2023.

 

There was more apparent choice during the summer of 2024 once the first chemotherapy lost some of its effectiveness and MRI’s started to show more tumour growth. But again, as things developed, were we making choices, or simply allowing medicine to take its logical course?

 

Looking at the medical history in this way, I can really identify only two major points of decision. The first true choice was in November 2022, when my wife campaigned aggressively for Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York to replace our initial providers. It feels like we ended up in the best possible place with the best possible care.

 

I believe the second true choice occured much more recently, in fact during our last week in New York during our final consultation at MSK. I had endured a difficult few weeks of symptoms and side effects, and at this meeting we learned that the most recent MRI revealed substantial swelling and probably an acceleration of tumour growth. We were warned not to be surprised if episodes and symptoms cropped up more regularly from now on.

 

A little to my surprise, we were then offered a genuine choice. We had previously accepted that the windows for operations, clinical trials and experimental treatments had probably closed for us by then. Useful treatments remained available but effectiveness would reduce, perhaps quickly. Now we were informed that Dr Brennan would be willing and available to operate one more time later in the week.

 

The implications and possible outcomes of accepting the operation were made clear to us. Risks would be high, recovery slow and beneficial outcomes far from certain. Steroids, chemo, and immunotherapy still had some useful road for us to travel. But the operation had considerable upside as well.

 

We made our decision within a few minutes, and a lot of the decision was driven by non-medical factors. That coming Saturday we were booked on our one-way flights to Faro. Taking on the operation would have delayed that for months, and probably forever. We declined the intervention. Dr Mellinghoff steered us through the moment with aplomb and wonderful sensitivity. The die was cast, and here we are in the Algarve.

 

Reflecting more, the decision to come here looms larger and larger, in some ways overshadowing everything else in what was already an eventful year. And the main outcome from these reflections is how ill-prepared we both were.

 

We have had chats for many years about my wife taking retirement and us coming to live here, but until cancer came along there were valid reasons to defer any decision. Then came cancer, and a year ago we came up with the ABC concept, where A was healthy time together, B was a period of caring and C was widowhood. We still find this to be a helpful model.

 

In January of 2023 my wife declared that she was ready to stop work and come here at some point in 2024. June solidified the intent, and we went ahead with it in October.

 

But how prepared were we? On our parallel journeys to different destinations, what were the pros and cons for each of us? Did we need contingency plans? If we chose to stay in New York, what would that mean for each of us? How could we make our ultimate choice work best for each of us? Did we really understand the issues from the perspective of our life partner? Our recent beachside walks suggest to me that the answer to many of these questions was a resounding no. This was one of most consequential decisions of each of our lives, yet we stumbled into it.

 

I could quote many examples of how we were misleading ourselves and each other. One powerful one from my side was finally accepting that Portugal is not nirvana. Previously, I suspect a part of me felt that nobody in their right mind and given the option would ever choose to live anywhere but Portugal. Well, it does have its advantages, but it has challenges too, in A, B and C. I undersold my wife with my sloppy thinking. She was similarly influenced by her own blind spots.

 

We can deepen these discussions further as things develop. It does feel now that the decision was final, for my lifetime at least. We will hold each other close, celebrate each day and be thankful for the time we have. There is always ample opportunity for gratitude. Walking by the beach and working to understand each other better invites gratitude in abundance.

 

We have already enjoyed family visits here and are getting to know good, rewarding people. We hope we can look forward to more of the same. Perhaps stumbling into such a huge decision will continue to play out well for us. But I have to accept that the process involved was highly flawed. So be it. 

Pottering in the Morning

 I recall quite clearly when I retired, from Shell in the Netherlands, at the tender age of fifty. I have never regretted that decision for an instant. The quieter life of a retiree suited me immediately, and it opened up a number of fresh pathways which ultimately transformed my life, from helping to raise two more kids to an extended adventure in New York to a much more expansive relationship with choral singing.

 

Some may wonder if my cancer diagnosis became a source of delayed regret about early retirement. Actually, the opposite is true. I look on it as having given me twelve years of a satisfied retirement that I otherwise would have sacrificed. The thought of still struggling through a corporate life and its requirements and then one busy day told that I had a terminal illness does not induce regret, only relief.

 

Fed perhaps by fear, envy, judgment or mere curiosity, I was often quizzed by people about how retirement changed me, especially in its early years. I found myself extolling one particular aspect of my altered life and would talk with special joy about the first 90 minutes of each day. Far from the former routine of an early alarm call, rushed preparation and a strenuous commute to an office waiting with dozens of e-mails to answer, I could now follow my own clock. My wife would get up even earlier than I used to, but when she left the apartment for her bus then the world was my own, and I cherished that time. I could linger in bed, then deal with the (many fewer) e-mails while enjoying some TV and the pleasures of tea, coffee and cereals. I could achieve all this without any rush at all and still have plenty of time to complete errands before noon.

 

Now history is starting to repeat itself in our new circumstances. We are in a new country, in generous surroundings with benign climate and peaceful atmosphere. It is my wife who has retired and has the chance to witness and to create change in consequence. I can find my new morning routine, with the added inducement of sharing some of it with my life partner.

 

Buoyed by an enduring phase of good health, and by the smartness of my wife, I have settled quickly into what I am calling my morning potter. Here I usually wake around 8.30AM (still earlier then my wife, who most days can potter even more languidly than I can. I put on a bath robe and immediately take my morning pills, before drifting into the kitchen, starting tea and orange juice for two, opening the sun room, checking the weather, and starting up my laptop.

 

Juice, tea and perhaps a croissant close at hand, I find a good spot with a lovely view and potter away for the best part of an hour. E-mails do not take long to handle, and my new phone does not usually have much to disturb me either. I get myself up to date with any US sport that took place while I was asleep. Then I can play my five morning games on the computer, Worldle, Nerdle, Wordle, Byrdle and Connections. One benefit of feeling well is that my game performance has been restored to its former level – perhaps this is a reminder that good times cannot last for ever and I should cherish them even more.

 

After the games, I can turn on my pride and joy, my beautiful De Longhi coffee machine, and make a delicious cup for each of us, so my wife will have three liquid joys awaiting her when she rises. Next for me on the computer will be my daily fifty Portuguese words and phrases and perhaps a few irregular verbs. That study certainly pays off and progress feels rapid just now. After the language work, I might read a section of this week’s Economist online.

 

Now I’ll shave and dress, trying to get that out of the way before my wife needs the bathroom, and surely it is also time for some more delicious Portuguese breakfast food. I have recovered a childhood love of Weetabix, but it is also hard to walk past a pile of famous Portuguese Pasteis de Nata, and the fruit is rather wonderful too.

 

By now my wife will be in the bathroom, so I can cross the living room to my electronic piano and play there for twenty or thirty minutes. That is another skill that seems to be returning, and surely another one to embrace while health and coordination allow. Luckily, this habit is a popular one not just with my wife but also with the neighbours, so I can spread a little joy while partaking in it myself. Afterwards I might return to read another Economist section if time permits, or otherwise I can shuffle money around or do some other administration to prepare for the day ahead.

 

We have been blessed with many warm and calm and sunny days, so my morning potter can sometimes be topped off with a quiet sit down outside in the sun, soaking up warmth and view. My wife can at last catch up with me. The bathroom part of her morning potter is longer than mine, but just as pleasurable. I have a new pride and joy in the form of a steam shower in the bathroom, and my wife might enjoy that in the morning, though my emerging habit is to enjoy that at night.

 

We have been quite busy so far, even if the pace has started to slacken. Once we are both fully up and ready, we can head of for a beach-side walk, often in parallel with some hospital or other administrative errand and some grocery shopping. We are discovering that it is hard to get out of the villa before 11.30, and then that it is hard to complete our daily tasks and joys and return home before 4pm. That squeezes lunch and also delays my time for a nap before we settle down to evening TV, but I am fine with that. Still, I might still have time for an early evening potter (more Portuguese, anyone? Or write a blog post?).

 

I have little fear now of my wife missing work and becoming bored. She always loved a morning potter even when it was only available to her on Saturdays. Now she is starting to cherish it, and also to embrace an early evening routine of home improvement and sometimes nipping out to buy something for a current project. I sense that she loves it. We do not know how long this grace period of good health will last, and both our potter routines will become tougher when it ends, but we are at least creating a good starting point for that time, and perhaps parts of our routines will still endure even if my health is less robust.

 

The daily potters are far from the only joys that we are discovering in Portugal. The beach-side walks are wonderful, and we are making sure that we treat ourselves with food and wine often enough. Our church and our choirs bring us joy, as does frequent contact with friends and family.

 

 One winter project involves installing some solar and perhaps finding a way to heat our pool. The only way I can think of that would make my morning potter much more enjoyable would be a swim, and at the moment that is not a practical option for five months per year. Perhaps we’ll also get in the habit of spending more time on our roof or balcony, where the views are at their finest.

 

It feels wonderful to have discovered a new morning pottering routine. It feels even more wonderful to observe how my wife is achieving the same. Many find that retirement is not an easy transition, and that is far from the only transition that she is facing just now. But I do believe that a morning potter can be of immense help. I certainly value my own mornings more than ever.

Algarve Impressions

 We have now been living in the Algarve for five weeks, and things continue to go well. The longest we had ever stayed at the villa beforehand was about seven weeks, during the pandemic, so our stay now is already approaching that duration. In December we will have more quiet time to settle in before a flood of visitors at new year, when hopefully most renovations will have been completed and much of our shipment unloaded.

 

Recently I have been writing mainly about emotions, often tough emotions. Those have not gone away, but the balance is quickly veering towards the tranquility we seek here. That is only possible because of continued good health. Indeed I still seem to feel better day by day. Long may that continue.

 

There are various ways I judge my own state of health. One very encouraging sign is a sort of recovery of intelligence. When labouring under treatment side effects, I was certainly physically wobbly but my mental acuity may have suffered too, much though I tended to deny it. For many weeks my morning puzzles seemed more difficult than usual, but now I am back to my previous form. I sense my memory is stronger too. This positive period surely cannot last for many months, but I will certainly accept any time offered. Perhaps the current cocktail of treatments and meds can be effective for a sustained period of time.

 

So, for a change, let us think and write less about cancer and more about impressions of our new place of abode. There are certainly many such impressions to share.

 

One of the first things that struck me as soon as we arrived was how quiet the Algarve is at this time of year. The end of the tourist season almost works like a switch, and peace and regular living reigns. There is occasional traffic but most journeys are stress-free. We have noticed that several restaurants have already closed or reduced hours for the winter, and some choose this period to do renovations. Luckily, we will always have enough good choices, even if fewer than we are used to. And a peaceful, regular life has obvious attractions.

 

My next reflection is quite how international the resident community is, perhaps even more diverse than New York though in different ways. In shops, you hear as much English spoken as Portuguese, blended with a smattering of French, German, Dutch and Spanish. The locals seem completely happy with this colonisation of their home region. It is an unusual community, rather white and affluent and of advancing years, blended with a local community, golfers and other tourists. Perhaps elements of that blend will become annoying over time, but for now it suits us very well.

 

No reflection of the Algarve can ignore the food and drink. Eating and drinking here is a pure joy. Nothing is over-processed or over-sweetened. I have still yet to taste a glass of bad Portuguese wine, and the food is consistently wholesome and tasty. I happen to be going through a period of high appetite, so there is plenty to appreciate. It is no wonder at all that a so-called Mediterranean diet has so many proven health benefits.

 

Another reflection is about the green energy transition. Even if utilities are expensive here and it costs a lot to fill the car, it appears as though the public have embraced the new global realities. On the roads, Dacia and small Chinese EV’s proliferate and charging stations are ubiquitous. Solar panels are cheap and widely available, and indeed will be an element of our next improvement project. Separation of trash is well-established. This is all encouraging to witness.

 

The social system in the Algarve is also impressive. My wife put in a request last week, and this morning we were visited at home by some palliative care experts. The need has yet to arise, but, when it does, we will be well provided for. We are still finding our way through the options of the medical care here, but the initial impression is one of smart use of limited resources to achieve the best possible outcome for citizens.

 

Portugal is certainly having a moment. The Algarve was in vogue when I first bought the villa, but the area suffered, along with the whole nation, during the financial crisis. The slow climb back has accelerated over the last few years. Lisbon must be one of the top ten city tourist destinations just now, maybe only behind Venice and Barcelona. And Portugal has become an investment opportunity of choice for many, including a growing cohort from the USA. These trends can only be good ones for our own presence here: the villa has probably appreciated in value a great deal, for the first time since I bought it.

 

Our appreciation of the Algarve has only grown during our first weeks here. No doubt complaints will set in over time, but hopefully we will still feel positive overall as we start to put down more roots here. We feel blessed to have the opportunity to build a fulfilled life here. We hope many friends and family will visit to share our joy.    

More Miracles Achieved and still more needed

 I cannot imagine our first month in Portugal going better than it has. We have been lucky and we have been smart. Yet despite all this success, the month has opened my eyes much further about the challenges still ahead for both me and for my wife as we continue our shared journeys to different destinations.

 

The first week in Portugal almost felt it could have come from the creation story in Genesis. Every day brought fresh major challenges and opportunities to fail and jeopardise our entire project, yet every day we managed to step up to the plate.

 

The primary blessing during our creation week was that I felt so well. Indeed I still feel very well nearly a month later, perhaps even a bit better each day. If I had been a burden during that time then even my splendid wife might have buckled under the strain. As it turned out, we were quite an effective team and equipped to benefit from the good luck that perhaps a higher power chose to gift us that week.

 

On the seventh day God rested, and I wonder if we will also look back on our first Sunday as the most significant day of that frenzied week. For it was on the Sunday, thanks to a kind a diligent contact, that we discovered the church community that should serve us well in Portugal. The church is a drive of three quarters of an hour, one of so many burdens I impose on my wife, and is Anglican rather than Catholic, but the community is surprisingly vibrant, the location wonderful, and the service gratifyingly spiritual. Their choir is also quite active and well-led so Genesis Sunday also re-started our choral singing.

 

During that first service I could not prevent my mind from wandering forwards in time. Despite having so long to plan our move, how is it that I had completely overlooked so many key aspects? Of course I need a place to die and be cremated that will be suitable for others to gather, even if I have no pretensions of grandiose funerals accompanied by choruses from the Duruflé requiem. My emotions swung in waves between fear and dread, worry and pity for my wife, and the potential for peace. Since then, the emotional balance has gradually become healthier. What a large step forward Genesis Sunday gave us.

 

My emotional burden has continued to ease as we head to the conclusion of our first month in Portugal. By now I suppose we are well into the Pentateuch, yet our luck continues to hold. We have managed to balance more successful administration with starting to relax and enjoy ourselves. It has helped that our younger daughter has visited us not just once but twice already, for she can help both practically and emotionally. We have enjoyed many long walks by the beach already, and rediscovered some of our favourite Algarvian restaurants. We have greeted other relatives and friends, some established and some new. We have even discovered what seems like a very suitable community choir to enjoy together.

 

All the way through this month, the potential for disaster has lurked but somehow been averted. How I have stayed so well has felt like one miracle. The opportunities for being denied entry owing to some non-compliance or error, a calamitous breakage, a fall, a major setback to the renovations, a refusal or deferral of medical treatment or revelation of inadequate competence to meet our needs, something failing at the bank or the car showroom, all of these were events of high jeopardy that somehow worked out in our favour. And now we are surely past the worst and can approach what remains without so much dread.

 

Despite these successes and the peace they are gradually helping to build, of course the fundamentals of our situation have not changed. I have had several weeks of wonderful health, but Dr Mellinghoff was clear that we should be ready for more episodes and permanent unwelcome changes, perhaps quite soon. I suspect that he may have been even more open with my wife.

 

We have made our choices and for me I am grateful that we made the choices we did. I am confident that I will be able to deal with my own future. For my wife I hope it turns out the same, but, prepared though I thought I was, I am not sure that I was fully attuned to the scale of change that our choices will impose on her over the coming months and years.

 

It is worth remembering once again the old adage about the three toughest changes commonly faced during a lifetime. They are dealing with a death or divorce, dealing with a major change in employment and dealing with a change in place to live, especially one involving long distances and multiple continents. My wife is already facing up to each of these three changes, in as stark an environment as could be imagined. Caring for a terminally ill husband and what follows, retirement from a gratifying job, and moving across the world to a place where she has few roots: each of these three challenges are monumental. I pray more than ever that we have as much time, and especially as much healthy time, as possible to give her the best chance to prepare and face up to this cocktail of challenges. The social aspects of this are as important as the technical ones. Giving up work, attractive but leaving gaps in everyday life, may be one of the toughest parts.

 

So far she has been magnificent. Challenge can bring out the best in us. An example is driving a car. It is now nearly two years since I could not safely drive any distance. During that time my wife’s driving has progressed from tentative to confident so that she is now a very effective road warrior. Practice makes perfect. The same is true for some other life skills, especially those ones which I formerly dominated in our marriage such as managing the finances. Sometimes it is not easy to give these things up, and I do become frustrated and interfere on occasion. I suppose my own burden is not trivial either.

 

As usual we know where to find solace. Some fear can be healthy and we do well to accept and embrace it. Prayer is helping us more than I ever previously imagined. The companionship of friends and family is a wonderful comfort. And we have as much to be grateful for as ever before. As we start to settle into a more relaxed routine, hopefully in reasonable health, thankfulness can permeate all we think and all we do. 

Torrents of Emotion

  

This week we finally achieved a dream I have had for nineteen years, when we touched down in Faro after a short stopover in The Azores. Faro duly had its usual uplifting effect, and my mood lifted immediately. Since then, thanks mainly to my wife, we have achieved minor miracles. Yet of course it is hard to feel wholly euphoric given the context of my disease and constant thoughts about how long we may have together and in what state of health.

 

The project to move from New York may have been the most demanding I have ever participated in, including work projects. This may well have been true even cancer-free. My wife had to close out her work. We had items for sale, gift, disposal and shipment, and arrangements for the shipment were far from simple. Many friends earned and repaid our attention. During the last week came the bulk of the sorting, but we also had a car to sell, a cat the transport and plenty of other paperwork. As the week progressed, we both became progressively more exhausted, and I knew I was not wholly reliable, likely to lose or break mission critical items. I also found myself obsessing over particular details, of which some did not warrant that attention. I was on moderate steroids, so peace was in short supply throughout the week.

 

With copious help, somehow we made it, and the tally of regretful lost items was much smaller than it might have been. We were not quite ready to arrive to a building site, but I suppose it was us who tried to expedite the villa improvements and the contractors had done lots of work.

 

Our goal was to arrive and then immediately slow to retirement pace, but that was never going to be feasible since many critical items in Portugal required immediate attention from whatever energy we could find. Luckily I have enjoyed my healthiest week since the summer so I might have even been a net asset rather than a total liability.

 

The first minor miracle was that immigration arranged an appointment to see me on a date which turned out to be our first in Portugal. We had been applying for months and expected many more delays, complicating all sorts of other administration and maybe costing us money and other opportunities. A kind lawyer chose to drive from Lisbon to accompany us and she made sure that everything went smoothly. That was a big box ticked with a lot of happenstance. We also made progress with our bank.

 

On day two we embarked on two other projects, buying mobile phones and shopping for a car. These may seem reckless so soon after arrival, but hire car costs would mount quickly and working smartphones are rather essential to life nowadays. We made progress in both quests.

 

On Wednesday we turned our attention to medical matters. Our oncologist appointment had been deferred until next Tuesday so we felt we had to make a start beforehand. A couple of my meds had been lost in the packing and Tuesday seemed a long time to wait for them, even if nothing else went wrong before.

 

Our experience showed up some differences between the US and Europe. We managed to find a social health centre, in a place physically reminiscent of the DMV or Jamaica public sector offices, but the service was outstanding. Everyone was happy to talk in English despite the technical content. My wife was immediately given a health service number and will be allocated a primary care doctor within a few days, and I will receive the same once the immigration is finished. There was a publicly funded doctor on hand to give me an appointment within two hours. I had to pay full cost, but 31 euros felt very affordable, and even more so when the meds that they happily prescribed cost only six euros for a year’s supply. We were so chuffed that we went back to the car dealer and closed a deal before the end of the day, and meanwhile we had finished unpacking what we brought and had reached a manageable position for the building project.

 

On day four we had to close out insurance, payment, paperwork and delivery of the car, and our dealer, not from a profession I generally admire, turned out to be very helpful and not just out for quick profit. Then we turned our attention back to the phones. They are in our hands but we have some self-training to complete. Tomorrow we return our hire car, and on Saturday morning we hope to secure a good TV package. Not bad for one week! But we are in a state of perpetual exhaustion.

 

It is hard to maintain any overview of the big picture amidst such chaos.

 

 Fortunately we can surely slow down next week to regain some perspective and a little peace. We cannot retain this level of emotion, though of course emotion is an outcome not a choice so we cannot be certain. During the last two weeks we have both witnessed elation, pride, intense love and extreme thankfulness, but at times also something close to despair, being overwhelmed and out of control, intense fear and something like foreboding. Perhaps it is just as well that we have not had time to reflect. Under this sort of pressure, it probably pays to stay practical and in the moment.

 

Still, once we can focus on the bigger picture we will surely find something very nuanced. We have indeed accomplished a dream in making it here and the opportunities for a wonderful life feel wonderful, together and surrounded by friends and family and new acquaintances and activities. The food is pretty good too.

 

The other side of the context will be something we have to embrace more and more. The cancer feels likely to accelerate very soon, though of course we could be lucky and be given a further extended period of grace. We just have to be as prepared as we can be and remember to be thankful for what we have had, what we still have, and what we can continue to look forward to. In this new phase we will develop new mantras and strategies, remain hopeful and positive, and accept whatever may come as gracefully as we can.

 

One new mantra will surely involve peace. The last two weeks has not offered the most propitious start for that. But it feels that we are in the ideal place for the emotional torrent to recede quickly. It already has. 

Farewell to New York

Our one-way tickets to Portugal are booked for October 19^th , just ten days away. There have been periods, especially since my cancer diagnosis, when we had many doubts about fulfilling our dream to live at our Algarve home, and even a few times when one or both of us became unsure that we really wanted that outcome. But, barring unlikely disasters in the coming days, we really are going to make it. How healthy I will be for how long remains far from certain, but we are generally determined to enjoy whatever time we have, always feeling grateful for the opportunities we have been given.

 

So, God willing, my next and subsequent posts will be created in Portugal. That means it is timely to reflect on the twelve years we have lived in New York. Overall, they have been good times for us.

 

I confess to having become quite jaundiced about th e state of US society in recent years. If I am asked about what I will miss, I happily list friends and family and my special Sunday mornings at St Josephs but the list ends there. A refrain of mine is to bewail how broken is US society in so many ways. Looking at all the most important indicators, from healthy life expectancy to happiness or road traffic deaths, the US has fallen from a world leader to a rich world laggard over the course of my lifetime. Yet none of these indictors even warrants a mention in what passes for political discourse.

 

Most Americans concur with my narrative about a broken country. But mot of those same Americans would still defend the narrative about the USA being the greatest country in the world. I can only think of one metric where that is clearly true, that being military might. But any analysis of how that mjght has been deployed since 1945 would reveal a litany of failure and devastation. And still countries are declared enemy combatants with little justification and huge consequences for everyone’s prosperity. \

 

Lexington is a reliably strong page in The Economist. Every so often columnists are rotated and I recall one farwell article. The first paragraph extolled America and following paragrapghs sought examples of America’s attraction. Every example brought out aspects where humanity had yet to do damage. The nature, abundance and fertility of land, and potential of America is unique in the world. Yet whenever humans muscle in this potential is sacrificed.

 

During our first summer here, we visited some lovely places including Lake George and Fire Island. I both cases, we tried to go for a stroll once we had settled in. But our walks were curtailed almost immediately by notices telling us that the land was private and out of bounds to casual visitors. What a waste!

 

Like departing Lexington, I started this piece with the aim of praising America, but found myself diverted into darker territory. I will try to restore some balance in the rest of this piece.

 

New York has been good for my family. My wife has thrived at work. We arrived with two timid pre-teens, yet each has developed into an impressive young adult. I invested heavily into my singing hobby and my effort was repaid many times over. Culture is often excellent in NYC.

 

America also does sports very well, once you get past the annoyance of domestic eventsbeing mis-cast as a world championships. We have had great days and nights enjoying live sports events. In our last weeks here we have enjoyed yet one more lovely night at the open tennis, I have added two more Broadway plays to my resumé, and I even got to sing the national anthem with a choir at Yankee stadium. I even think I got most of the words right, not a simple feat.

 

Inevitably, the final two years of our New York memories will be clouded by my cancer diagnosis. Right on cue, things took a turn for the worse in recent days. Yesterday we were offered a tough choice of whether to have one more operation. The left side tumours are well-suppressed at the moment, but the right side is growing. With heavy hearts, we agreed that an operation now would be too risky and burdensome, so in some respect we are accepting that the cancer will take its path. Until now, steroids and other treatments have kep episodes and the most unpleasant symptoms under control, but that is likely to become progressively more difficult in the coming months.

 

The USA may be broken, but it has as many good people as anywhere else, and it has been our privilege to meet, work with, admire and build friendships with many New Yorkers. Especially in the last two years, we have experienced deep wells of love and support, of friendship and hope. It all makes a difference, and we are so grateful for all of it. People are good. Americans are good. New Yorkers are good. My wife and I, and both our younger kids and our US based family, have been beneficiaries.

 

For us it feels the right time to leave this continent and to seek a more peaceful and comfortable life in Portugal, filling our last days together, whether few or many, with love, prayer and hope. We wish this country and indeed this continent, the strength to utilise more of its abundant potential. I will try hard to see more of the strengths and less of the brokenness from our new vantage point. I do feel that we are going home, after a prolonged and enjoyable adventure. Home is where the heart is. But we are grateful for the adventure and for everything it has offered our family. Fare thee well, great city and great country. Just go easy please on the ludicrous bragging about being the greatest.