Sooo,
‘Here I sit with my shoes mismated, Lawdy, mercy, I’se frustrated....’
- by Langston Hughes
I don’t know what you are up to but I am chillin' in the kitchen on this fab summer day, frustrated only by my inability to open the champagne chillin' in the fridge, calmed by the divine sax of Alfonso Blackwell floating in the hazy air – very loudly – from our wonderful speakers. Bliss!
Time for a break as I remember we have choccies in the fridge...am now back with 3 of them (ate one on the way back to computer)! Among my secret vices are champagne, chocolates and baroque opera...how I love the whoops, trills and spills of Handel…
Whilst listening, I was pondering the ‘ignorance is bliss’ approach to illness. People often say to me how awful it must be not to know what is wrong with me. ‘I couldn’t bear not knowing,’ they say. What they really mean, I suspect, is, ‘I want to hear good news.’ Bad news is generally not so easy to receive!
Sometimes - like when you know most neurological illnesses are incurable, degenerative and life threatening - isn’t it better not to know ‘for sure’? There really is something to be said for not knowing, when to 'know' is bad news. Not knowing leaves wiggle room for the unknown variables of life to kick in; it allows less time to worry about supposed ‘certainties’ - which are never absolute because doctors are not gods; it allows you to hope; to enjoy this moment – now, with all its flaws – in an entirely unexpected, scintillating, manner.
Don’t get me wrong, I would hate not to be fully informed. I would always want to know what the doctors knew about me. I am just positing that ignorance, in this respect, may sometimes be a positive force in a life – bliss indeed!
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