My space and time machine

Almost everyone who enquires about Ranjan's health has always some kind advice for me: take it easy, look after yourself, eat well etc. I know they mean well and are spot on as were anything to happen to me, God forbid, then the entire yet fragile support structure that I have crafted with pain to counter Mr H would fall apart and Ranjan open to all the vile side effects of chemo. The problem is that as always much of the structure is in my head. So I guess the first thing that should be cared for is my head! In normal times, when I need to restore my things in my brain, I slink in some corner of the house with a book and travel in time and space. For those few hours I get off the spinning wheel of the day and forget about things around me, specially the annoying or irritating ones. When I feel I can once again face life, I emerge rested and ready to take on the world. Books are so important to me that I have to always have on my shelf a fair amount of unread books should an emergency arise.

With the arrival of Mr Hodgkin and the upheaval in my life, the old and tested reading did not give the needed relief. Even the best thriller or most touching novel that normally would have kept me glued to it for hours fails to do so as I find myself fidgety and keyed up. So for new times new ways had to be found. Something that would allow me to travel in space and time and get my system going and happy hormones up. It was time to put one's thinking cap on and I did. The solution was the treadmill + my iPod with a compilation of songs that I had loved since my early teens. French songs, favourite bands, crooners of the past, a mixture of genres, songs I had grown with in the four corner of the world, songs that could become my unique space and time machine!

So every day, except chemo days, I change into my gym attire, put on my barefoot running shoes, set my ipod on shuffle and the volume at maximum level, set the treadmill to 6km an hour and take off on a 40 minutes travel in time and space. For those 40 minutes I am no mote the 61 one year old woman living in Delhi. I become a 16 year old dancing in a club inAnkara, the 22 year old in love sitting pillion on the scooter of the one who would become her life partner, then the 40 year woman cooking in her Kitchen in Paris, the 13 year old listening to the top of the pop song in her room in Algiers, the 10 year old dancing with her papa in Rabat. Each day is a surprise journey that brings back fond memories, some sweet, some bittersweet, but each one bringing a smile on my face. I wonder what I look like to those who pass by as I am unaware of anything happening around me. When the 40 minutes are over I am charged and happy to be me, and grateful for every moment of my existence.

So for the buddy survival kit you absolutely need a way to get off this planet for some time everyday!