I am horrible with dates. I barely remember anyone’s birthday (if not for Facebook I would never remember). I still mix up my wedding anniversary date. Hell, earlier this week I asked my wife if it’s 2024 or ‘23. Yes, really.
So when my wife posted on social media that today was her cancer-versary I felt like an ass. I should have this written down somewhere, right? This should be the type of thing that should be seared into my memory bank. But what memory do I erase in order to make room? A line from a favorite movie? A song I randomly remember apropos of nothing in particular? Pi? It really is a Sophie’s Choice kind of conundrum.
And while I am horrible with remembering dates, I am crystal clear on remembering experiences. The sitting in the waiting room while she was in surgery to remove this fucking invader trying to kill the woman I love. It took much longer than Dr. Dorigo said it might and as the expected hour rolled by I was struck by that sense of anxious dread.
The mind is a…
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