I still have my diary from when I
was 16. It does not show literary promise. It’s not gushing with raw emotion or
poet underpinnings. Most entries are a few sentences long. For the most part, I
recorded whether Ron made me mad that day or if I was bored. I also logged the
movies we saw (whether we actually watched them from our back row seats or not)
and had a coding system for other matters worthy of document. Apparently, I
was worried one of my three brothers would find my secret diary and
read it.
Ron and I still go to movies but no longer sit in
the back row. (Children, this is what happens in real life.) Early 2013, we
started a tradition of Friday Date Days, taking in a matinee since we both had
the day off. The standing date worked well. With the kids at school, we could
get through a movie without having a text requesting a pick-up or transport.
Lately, though, our schedule has changed.
“It’s Date Day,” I explain to the amiable technician, Abbe, who has taken pictures of me on two different occasions in two separate buildings on two kinds of imaging equipment.
She peers at me, then over at Ron. “I think you two might want to work on your idea of fun.”
In truth, I am thankful, make that lucky, to have a date throughout this process. If my situation had occurred 20-some years ago (at an age that more closely matches my case), when I was an already overloaded single parent of one son, striving to keep my business afloat, my sink unclogged and my lawn mowed, each day would have been hell. I have it easy now. My 2/3-time teaching job meshes with my chemo schedule. Beyond that, if I’m not feeling up to it, the writing (cooking, cleaning, dog-walking, pleasantry-making) waits.
Sometimes writing waits so long friends and family email and call to check in. Thank you for calling, Chip, Cinda, Grandma. I’m still figuring out how to convey the I've-felt-like-crap feelings into words anyone would want to read. It's an obstacle I'll get through.
The thing that’s different about my “Hero’s Journey” Dates versus movie dates is that there’s generally tea (served by kindly volunteers) instead of popcorn. So far, I prefer the mint. The other difference is that most of these dates come with a written report so I don’t need to document notes in a diary. The language is vastly different than what you’d find in a personal diary. One of my now favorite words was repeated on a recent report describing my lungs, heart, bones and a smattering of other organs: unremarkable.
Who would have guessed an unremarkable date could be so exciting?
“It’s Date Day,” I explain to the amiable technician, Abbe, who has taken pictures of me on two different occasions in two separate buildings on two kinds of imaging equipment.
She peers at me, then over at Ron. “I think you two might want to work on your idea of fun.”
In truth, I am thankful, make that lucky, to have a date throughout this process. If my situation had occurred 20-some years ago (at an age that more closely matches my case), when I was an already overloaded single parent of one son, striving to keep my business afloat, my sink unclogged and my lawn mowed, each day would have been hell. I have it easy now. My 2/3-time teaching job meshes with my chemo schedule. Beyond that, if I’m not feeling up to it, the writing (cooking, cleaning, dog-walking, pleasantry-making) waits.
Sometimes writing waits so long friends and family email and call to check in. Thank you for calling, Chip, Cinda, Grandma. I’m still figuring out how to convey the I've-felt-like-crap feelings into words anyone would want to read. It's an obstacle I'll get through.
The thing that’s different about my “Hero’s Journey” Dates versus movie dates is that there’s generally tea (served by kindly volunteers) instead of popcorn. So far, I prefer the mint. The other difference is that most of these dates come with a written report so I don’t need to document notes in a diary. The language is vastly different than what you’d find in a personal diary. One of my now favorite words was repeated on a recent report describing my lungs, heart, bones and a smattering of other organs: unremarkable.
Who would have guessed an unremarkable date could be so exciting?
No comments:
Post a Comment