Remembering When (And Rather Not)

My daughter and I have since she was little played a game that allowed us to check our perspective on a past event; sometimes we look back on whatever situation with a similar view (and others not so much).

It goes something like this: Mom, do remember the time that I was so sick that I couldn't go out trick or treating at Halloween? (Plugging in whatever memory  - good or bad - that has cropped up).

Memories flood back of the worry of my little girl's fever creeping back over 104 degrees again as it had many times over the last few days that October. Knowing that despite all the preparations of sewing a costume and all the excitement that comes with a five year old anxiously awaiting the big day, I was going to have to keep her home with me. She was so ill she didn't even care at that point.

There have to be hundreds of those moments that we'll from time to time call upon to reaffirm our feelings about the event. I remember how disappointed I felt for her and how worried I was, and she recalls how sad she felt to hear the doorbell ringing as her neighbour friends came to the door for their treats and she could hardly lift her head from the couch a few feet away. And that makes me remember that although she couldn't partake, she didn't want me to turn off all the lights and not give out treats that night. Why should the other kids miss out? (For the record, her Dad went out on her behalf that night with a pillowcase to collect goodies from a few neigbours who would have been awaiting her visit. And when she was better, she was allowed a trip to Sugar Mountain for a good sized heap of treats of her choosing).

It's those kind of moments that we look back on to reaffirm our commitment to getting through those challenges together and to see whether we're yet ready to laugh about them in hindsight. Many are now worth a good chuckle, others are reminders that life is sometimes quite tough and painful.

It's been several weeks of evaluating challenges and wondering if given time I'll be able to laugh about them down the road. I sincerely hope that at least a few of them give pause and a smile, because they're certainly not right now.

Remember the time when I went through radiation treatment and I was so sore and tired that all I could do is regret that I'd not taken friends up on offers to come stay with me? Radiation fatigue is so totally off base of a description, a semi-coma state is more like it. All I can do is sleep and wish that I had a magic fairy to go make me something to eat. I've just managed my first consecutive two hour period of being awake in the last two days and the best I can do is drag my laptop a foot over to type this. Up until now, staring at the ceiling was the extent of my exertion.

There are a few dozen challenges over the last few weeks that I wonder to myself if I'll ever laugh about them. If so, it'll be my own private joke and that in itself makes me sad. Lost along with this are the opportunities to celebrate the successes when they appear.

At the hospital they make a big deal out of finishing treatment. Everyone who had reason to check my file out yesterday was ready with words of congratulations, a hug and words of encouragement. Including the volunteer driver who had been notified that this was an important day.

I came home to an empty apartment, exhausted, having to deal with a broken dishwasher, facing once again that really awful carpet that taunts me, listening to the sounds of grating metal from the industrial area just behind me, seeing that my apartment needed a going-over badly with a vacuum and a dustcloth and it wasn't going to clean itself, hungry as could be and no energy to make myself anything.

I suppose deep sleep is the kindest gift that can be given to me at this point. I don't want to even think right now if I'll play the "remember when" game about all this in the future. I just want it all to go away for awhile and for this apartment to spare me anymore unwelcome surprises.