Here it comes again. . .
It’s been almost 2 years since Tom was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor and it was removed. We mostly live our lives without too much thought of the whole drama. Health-wise, it very rarely comes up. If Tom had his way, I sort of think he’d never talk about it again.
I recently stopped seeing my therapist on a regular basis. She’s there if I need her, but for the most part, we’re moving on. That all said, I think the tumorversary will always bring some feelings to the surface for me. This morning, out of nowhere, Abby suddenly started talking about the hospital where Tom had his surgery and 6 week stay (he contracted bacterial meningitis and had a super long recovery. . . on IV antibiotics for months. I got really good with his PICC Line). She was remembering details that I haven’t talked about, details that I didn’t even remember until she mentioned them.
Her spot on description of the giant piggy bank sculptures outside of the hospital and the skybridge, the roof top garden, the fountains in a park nearby all surprised me. She was barely 30 months old when this all went down. But, the thing is, she’s so matter of fact about it all. She told me all about the hospital and then she said, “that was a REALLY long time ago.”
And, yes, it was a really long time ago, but how crazy that without any real concept of time and anniversaries or *when* Tom’s surgery took place, she’s feeling this tumorversary thing. Maybe I’m reading into it because *I’m* feeling the tumorversary thing, but dang. . . kids are perceptive and more aware than adults often give them credit for.
I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and for the first time in months, I held my breath and watched Tom’s chest to make sure he was breathing.
I get annoyed that he left egg scraps in the kitchen sink or whiskers in the bathroom sink and in the next second I am physically shaking with gratitude that he’s here and can leave shit in the sinks.
I look out the window and I see him running around the house with Abby and tears spring from my eyes. . . he can RUN, he can play, he weighs more than me! All things that were not the case 2 years ago.
So, this is all to say that it’s possible I’ll be a little wacky in the next month as we approach Tumorversary Redux. . . bare with me.
I’d say you’re more than entitled to a little “wackiness…” I can’t imagine the strength it’s taken on ALL of your parts to have come through such an ordeal.
On another note: it IS amazing what the little kiddos pick up on and remember, isn’t it? (Perceptive little buggers.)
I’ll be sending happy thoughts your way…
A climber friend of mine always celebrated his liver transplant day. His wife would throw him a big party, and boy was it a party!
I still write the day we found out that we were finally pregnant with Gracie on the calendar every year. It makes me giggle when I see it, because I can’t believe that after 7 years, I still can’t NOT write that on my yearly calendar. But boy, was that a fabulous day!
Sometimes, we celebrate and remember funny things, things that have touched our hearts, gave us a new meaning in life or maybe changed the path we live.
Happy day for you, Tom and Abby. Your path was so scary and trying, but look at your lives now! Beautiful!
xo, miss you all!
From “From Blossoms”
by Li-Young Lee
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.