The Things We Remember
We just finished up a bathroom remodel at our house. What a pain. During the work, we discovered that some needed plumbing work that we had done in the spring, actually wasn't completed. We paid for the work, but it wasn't done. I asked my wife the date of the uncompleted work and she said "May 2."
The anniversary of my diagnosis
"May 2?" I responded. The date meant nothing to her. But as I reminded her, May 2 is the date I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. 2011. I told her I now have a least favorite date. May 2. I'll never forget that.
Remembering that first year
The crazy thing is, I do have to pause and think about the year and how long ago I was diagnosed. That's obviously a good thing. I'm at over 11 years. If you had asked me when I was diagnosed, I never would have thought I'd live this long. Surviving myeloma is now just something I do. But I will absolutely never forget that fateful day.
Forgetting other things
I forget a lot nowadays. I couldn't remember where a store is the other day. We'd been to that store a thousand times. It has me a little worried, but then again it doesn't. The ironic thing is, while I am forgetting some things, so many memories of my past have been resurfacing the past couple of years. I'm in Southern California, meaning we don't get a lot of rain. A couple of weeks ago, though, we had a ton of rain. And for some reason, while slowly peddling on my stationary bike, I remembered a very specific rainy day in December in 2000. I drove across town to buy a small silver plated telephone for a Christmas gift for a woman I had a huge crush on. I even remember what I was listening to on the radio. What happened after that is a whole other story.
Remembering other incidents
I also recently remembered hitting my grandma with a frisbee in our front yard when I was maybe 8 years old. It was an accident, but I suddenly recalled getting so mad at her for accusing me of hitting her on purpose.
It's funny what we recall. Since being diagnosed, childhood memories have slowed surfaced. I like to find meaning in things, and I wonder if there is something significant about these memories. Am I suppose to do something?
Is there meaning in what we remember and what we forget?
Is there some dramatic action required to face these memories directly? I'd kind of like to try hypnosis to see if I can delve deeper into my memories or lack thereof. Coincidentally, a friend texted me a random question about hypnosis the other day. I think I need to do it.
It's hard to know, isn't it. All I know is that since retiring/going on disability, I've got more time to think about stuff. My myeloma is definitely in a better place, since stopping work. I totally can focus on my health. That's a good thing. Having too much time to think, maybe isn’t a good thing.
And while I think about some things more than ever, I think about my disease less. That's probably also a good thing. All I know is that in 2023, when May 2 rolls around, I am staying home and staying careful.
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