I thought I was going to write about my marvelous morning unloading of the dishes from the dishwasher – and I will for a bit before an awkward segue into The Big C – yes Yahoo! hooked me again. But back to my dishes . . . For 25 years I wore glasses. This in itself is horribly unremarkable I know – but the concept of opening a dishwasher and still being able to see – ah, now that’s something else. Everyone who wears glasses knows that there are moments that no matter how perfect the frames, how right the prescription is translated to the lenses, there are still times when you not only look foolish but cannot see your own hand in front of your face.
You don’t notice it if you’ve never worn lenses but opening this marvel of ‘modern’ technology and extricating your newly ‘spotless’ and warm dishes unleashes an explosive wall of fog that zeros in on any glasses in a 1m radius and renders them completely useless – along with their wearers. Living in Canada, this concept is extended to coming in from the cold and sometimes even opening the oven. Bottom line – it’s troublesome.
But why if I did wear glasses is this coming up at all. Because I have the weirdest quirk – I forget things almost completely if I deem them unimportant – or if they’ve occurred quite some time ago. For instance, I’ve forgotten most of my younger years – and by most, I’m guessing in the 95+%. This is particularly upsetting to my mother – and as a mother, to me too since I don’t remember what my parents did in ‘parenting situations’ so I’m starting from scratch all the time. Most annoying. But in this case, the glasses, even though I couldn’t begin my day unless I had them on my face, now, I have to actively remember this. I never touch my face to ‘move’ them. I never look for them. But, for some reason, opening the dishwasher and getting a lungful of steam this morning I was reminded of the fogging up. The mind – or maybe just my mind – is a funny thing.
Bottom line – laser surgery was TOTALLY worth it for me. I love it, love it, love it, love it – oh did I mention I love it. For anyone considering these types of procedures, do your homework, meet the surgeon (I had to be a bit pushy on this point but it helped my comfort and confidence in the surgery dramatically – as did the Ativan), and make sure you shop around. It’s not something to get at a bargain but it is worth seeing what the options are. I’m in Calgary and was lucky enough to have one of the first surgeons ever to perform such procedures do my own eyes at the Gimbel Eye Centre. I didn’t start this post as a plug for them – but what the heck, they were great!
And speaking of great – inserted awkward segue – today I heard of a new show for the summer: The Big C through, you guessed it, Yahoo! News. Apparently it’s about a woman diagnosed with cancer and how she and her family handle it. I think it’s great that anyone is willing to tackle this and put it in mainstream media. Sure lots of shows touch on it and try to resume their comedic style but it rarely works. It’s a topic everyone has some familiarity with even if, like myself, no one in your family has had cancer that was a balls-out battle for life. It reminded me of a story I had heard from a coworker one day. This woman, Elle, was visiting her brother in Scotland because her sister-in-law was dying of cancer.
Well, one day during the visit the 2 women and the brother/husband are relaxing in the sitting room and Elle’s 10 year old nephew comes in the room in a slightly angry state: “Who’s going to sign my permission slip? When you die, who’s going to sign it?” The room stopped – the air was instantly sucked out. His mom, laid out on the couch and in no shape for much of anything, burst into laughter. After some confusion and her continued laughs, the room busts up in full-belly guffaws. With everything that was going on, for him it came down to who will be there for him when his mom was no longer there. How was he going to navigate his life without the person who had always looked out for him?
Grief is an all-consuming emotion. I’ve thought of this boy many times since hearing this story – even though I only worked at that job and therefore only spoke to Elle a few times many years ago. I can only hope for him that he can remember his mom’s laughter. The love she so clearly must have been showing him all along that her absence meant no one to turn to. And I hope he forgets the rest – the pain, the treatments, the times she couldn’t be with him because of the cancer. Yes, the mind is a funny thing – and I hope it’s that kind of funny for him.
As for The Big C – I wonder if they can capture some of that. The humanity behind the disease. If they can, they’ll have at least my viewing time because sometimes it’s the distractions in life that bind us together.