losing it

Exactly a week ago I was standing outside and watching the flames which had already destroyed part of the building in which I live, lick ever closer to my home.  It turned out well, and I was - am - one of the lucky ones who still have a home to come to.  I am well aware of how lucky I am, how narrow the escape was, how I should be counting my blessings right now.

But I'm still scared of leaving the house because I'm convinced I will come back to ashes and rubble.  A had to physically prise my darling little cat out of my arms on Wednesday and lead me out of the flat so that I would go to work, where I spent all day fretting.  On Thursday I begged and bribed my mother to go round and check on things, and she humoured me enough to do so (she lives close to an hour's drive away), on Friday A works from home so I was less of a nut-job, but I haven't left the house this entire weekend.

Last Sunday when we were finally allowed back home, I threw a few things into a bag "just in case".  I haven't unpacked it yet, in fact I've been adding things to it all week and it lives on the spare bed next to the pet carrier.  I unplug everything but the fridge if it isn't in use and I am convinced that I smell smoke at least 5 times a day, although I manage to keep this to myself.

Worst of all, though, my heart now beats faster whenever I hear a siren until I hear it fade into the distance.  I work in a hospital, for crying out loud.  I swear I spent most of last week tachycardic.

I have got to get a grip!

grab and run

What would you snatch up if you had to run out of your home because it was on fire?  Last night A grabbed his laptop and back-up hard drive, I seized my darling little cat and stuffed her into her travel box in one smooth movement and grabbed my beloved childhood toy Threadbare Tedbear.  At first, as we all stood outside shivering and watched as four fire engines' worth of firefighters struggle to conquer the blaze, I thought that I could not possibly lose my home and recover.  Not after everything else that has happened the past 3 years.

Then, as the fire showed signs of spreading and a chunk of the roof caved in I realised that A was standing next to me, cradling our darling little cat's box in his arms and knew that everything I needed was right there and, if necessary, everything else could be replaced or let go.

By 1.30 this morning, the blaze was out.  The fire didn't spread to our end of the building and we were allowed back in.  We, and everything around us, smells of smoke but we are safe and our home is safe.  One staircase over, though, is a very different story.  The flat where the fire started is gutted and the five below and across are soaked.  I went over this morning to help a neighbour who had returned to try and salvage some items from her drenched flat, and standing in the stairwell I could see sky.

All of us here in this community have experienced loss and we are, every one of us, all too acutely aware that life is fragile.  Watching flames lick their way across to my home, my safe and constant place, made me realise this as if for the first time.

that time again

inappropriate terror

I'm terrified of going to the dentist. Odd because my particular dental expert is a kind and patient man who has been looking after my teeth for many years. But I'm still scared to the extent of increasingly sleepless nights in the week before an appointment and then a frankly very upset stomach on the day.

My appointment is at 9.00 this morning. I know it's not going to kill me but I have this feeling of looking my last on all things lovely...