Release Notes: Woman™ Version 51.0
8 hours ago
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
etched
What is the value in remembering traumatic events? What purpose does it serve aside from stirring up emotions that have lay dormant for so long? Is revisiting this pain a necessary part of growth? Why do we remember things that are painful with such vivid details?
I can remember happy moments like my wedding day with a hazy sense of joy. There are certain details I can recall with clarity when I search for them; like taking my shoes off in the elevator at the end of the night and skipping barefoot down the hall giggling in my wedding gown. But I remember the giddy feeling of joy that was wrapped around me that evening more than anything. The moments are there, but they’ve become more rounded and softer with time.
When it comes to painful life changing moments, a string of events can be etched in your memory and recalled all too easily, months even years after they’ve happened. The need to revisit and replay these in your mind is one of necessity at first. In the beginning, in order to accept and process, we review and give ourselves time to catch up with reality. I have come to believe that it is this coping mechanism that saves us during the storm.
How could we function and get through those stressful moments if we felt everything in its entirety right then and there? I’ve always believed that when faced with the unthinkable, we operate on another level and as time passes, the two become one. Pain, loss and reality collide in the aftermath as we review, re-play, and ultimately relive those moments that make us who we are today.
But why now? Why five years later? Is there something good to come out of reliving a night that I can’t forget, even if I tried?? I woke up with a heavy heart this morning and have been in a sombre mood for most of the day. I looked at the calendar and I realized what tomorrow is. Having had this day pass me by the last year or two and been gentler on me than in the past, I accepted that today would just be one of those days. No use in fighting it, or ignoring it, neither of those work.
I will remember you, always - for the brave, courageous person that you were.
March 14, 2006
The phone rang as Noah lay on the change table mouthing a toy as I pressed the tabs closed on his fresh diaper. He was fresh from the bath and ready for bed. Audrey was bathed and we were about to settle down for stories and bed. Audrey helping and handing me his jammies as he wiggled. It was the doctor’s office looking for Mark. Noah was wriggling on the table impatient with me for shifting my attention from him. He grabbed at the phone as I listened to a female voice asking again where Mark could be reached. Noah was standing on the table by now level with my face as I listened.
It was 6:30pm and Mark was at work, it was the middle of the dinner rush and I knew they’d have trouble getting him on the phone so I identified myself as his wife and asked if they could tell me what they needed. She was forceful and said it was urgent they speak with him now. Not just tonight, or later this evening, but now. My stomach went hollow as I heard the urgency in her voice. I told her I would call the restaurant and have him call them right away. She told me that they needed to see him immediately. A wave of anxiety flew through my body. My mind started racing. I asked what was wrong and all she could say was that they needed to see Mark tonight. I hung up the phone, still balancing Noah on the change table.
I dialed the familiar 10 digit number, my fingers feeling weak and shaky. As I dialed I thought, appendix, maybe gallbladder? What could be so urgent that they needed him on a Tuesday evening? I sent Audrey to go sit on her bed and read books while I called Daddy at work to give him a message. She happily obliged and said she’d play ponies until I was ready to read. My head was racing with my immediate dilemma as the phone continued to ring in my ear. How could I get Noah down and someone over to read to Audrey on a moments notice. My fear of the unknown was brewing deep inside as someone finally picked up at the other end.
A young girls voice answered ‘Guildford Keg Steakhouse and Bar, how may I help you?” the dinner rush sounded deafening in my ears. I said it was Leslie calling for Mark and she put me on hold before I could finish my sentence. She returned saying it was busy and that he would have to call me back. I told her it was urgent and she left me again, only she didn’t put me on hold this time. The sound of restaurant life streamed across the line making me more aware of how hard my heart was pounding and how dry my mouth had become in the minute and a half I waited to hear Mark’s voice.
Mark answered slightly annoyed at the phone call during the peak of the dinner rush. I ignored his tone and cut right to it . The doctor’s office called and they need to talk to you I said. He seemed calm, I will call them after the rush he said. I emphasized how urgent they sounded and his voice changed as he started to sense my fear. He tried to calm me down, explaining that he had not done the barium swallow that morning as planned because he had forgotten to fast but that he had done some routine blood work. He suggested it probably had something to do with that and that I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Mark had left an hour earlier that morning to do a barium swallow test. He had been feeling run down and had issues swallowing without pain. After 2 weeks of me pestering him, he reluctantly went to the walk-in. Two weeks prior, the doctor had made a loose diagnosis of GER. Mark had commented that it felt like he was swallowing glass and he had had a fever the week before and was more tired than usual. Nothing too out of the ordinary considering it was cold season and we had a child in preschool and a babe who hadn’t slept through the night in months. Coupled with his sick wait staff, our snotty preschooler and lack of sleep, fatigue was sloughed off as the norm.
I instructed Mark to call me from the car after he had rung the clinic on his way and I would get someone to watch Audrey and meet him there. Panic was starting to set in for me. Mark was much cooler under pressure which gave me something positive to focus on. I hung up the phone and waited for him to call me back. He said he would call me from the car in fifteen minutes. The clock read 6:40pm. Audrey was content and I sat in the rocker and gave Noah his nightly bottle while I madly dialed Lindsay’s number trying to squash the panic that was growing inside me. All I wanted was for Noah to fall asleep so I could join Mark and face whatever this news was. Noah remarkably, was oblivious to my angst and dozed easily, for once.
I rang Lindsay as he sucked his bottle back in the slow rhythmic way he did at bed time. It seemed an eternity for the 8 oz’s to disappear. Lindsay and I spoke in hushed tones and she never asked why, she said she could be over in 10 minutes. As Noah lay on my lap, I dialed Mark’s cell phone only to hear it ring and ring. I hung up and dialed again and again. I started to get angry, I was furious that he was not following through as he had promised. All I could think was pick up the phone! Answer it dammit!
I lay Noah asleep in his crib, he stirred when he touched the mattress but was out. I went into Audrey’s room where her pink IKEA flower light was casting a warm tone of pink across her quilt. She sat with books and ponies, waiting patiently oblivious to the chaos unfolding around her. I sat beside her, phone in hand redialing every 30 seconds in hopes that he had not forgotten his phone on the desk as he often did. His phone rang and rang, no answer. I settled Audrey and prepped her for the surprise stories she was about to get from our favourite neighbour Lindsay. I explained that I had to go run an unexpected errand and that Lindsay was coming to read stories and put her to bed. I asked her to wait just a few more minutes and one of us would read her a book. She agreed, easily.
The phone rang in my hands as I was walking out of her room. Noah asleep, Audrey content, it seemed as though I might escape this evening without drama.
I answered the phone…Where are you? Where have you been? I’ve been worried! I was in the hallway by now walking down the stairs to unlatch the door for Lindsay. I stood in the kitchen in front of the island staring at the counter as he spoke. My heart was pounding and I could hear my pulse in my ears. His voice was soft and broken, I could tell he had been crying. He said ” Les…they think I might have cancer. “ It was silent. I couldn’t speak. My legs felt rubbery and I leaned on the island for support. I could hear him holding back his tears. I asked him exactly where he was and said I’d be there in 5 minutes. I told him not to move, don’t drive anywhere just wait for me and I’d be there as soon as I could.
Lindsay walked up the steps and I opened the door as she arrived. She saw my face and she saw my panic, I had no time to soften the truth, I blurted it out, we hugged at the door and she told me to go. I grabbed my keys and double skipped the stairs to the bottom. The only thought I had in my head was how Mark was sitting there alone in a doctors office, I wanted to be there, I should have been there for him. I was mad at myself for taking so long to organize the kids.
I was shocked, mad, angry and panic stricken. My car couldn’t seem to go fast enough down the steep hill into Langley city where Mark sat waiting for me to arrive.
I can remember happy moments like my wedding day with a hazy sense of joy. There are certain details I can recall with clarity when I search for them; like taking my shoes off in the elevator at the end of the night and skipping barefoot down the hall giggling in my wedding gown. But I remember the giddy feeling of joy that was wrapped around me that evening more than anything. The moments are there, but they’ve become more rounded and softer with time.
When it comes to painful life changing moments, a string of events can be etched in your memory and recalled all too easily, months even years after they’ve happened. The need to revisit and replay these in your mind is one of necessity at first. In the beginning, in order to accept and process, we review and give ourselves time to catch up with reality. I have come to believe that it is this coping mechanism that saves us during the storm.
How could we function and get through those stressful moments if we felt everything in its entirety right then and there? I’ve always believed that when faced with the unthinkable, we operate on another level and as time passes, the two become one. Pain, loss and reality collide in the aftermath as we review, re-play, and ultimately relive those moments that make us who we are today.
But why now? Why five years later? Is there something good to come out of reliving a night that I can’t forget, even if I tried?? I woke up with a heavy heart this morning and have been in a sombre mood for most of the day. I looked at the calendar and I realized what tomorrow is. Having had this day pass me by the last year or two and been gentler on me than in the past, I accepted that today would just be one of those days. No use in fighting it, or ignoring it, neither of those work.
I will remember you, always - for the brave, courageous person that you were.
March 14, 2006
The phone rang as Noah lay on the change table mouthing a toy as I pressed the tabs closed on his fresh diaper. He was fresh from the bath and ready for bed. Audrey was bathed and we were about to settle down for stories and bed. Audrey helping and handing me his jammies as he wiggled. It was the doctor’s office looking for Mark. Noah was wriggling on the table impatient with me for shifting my attention from him. He grabbed at the phone as I listened to a female voice asking again where Mark could be reached. Noah was standing on the table by now level with my face as I listened.
It was 6:30pm and Mark was at work, it was the middle of the dinner rush and I knew they’d have trouble getting him on the phone so I identified myself as his wife and asked if they could tell me what they needed. She was forceful and said it was urgent they speak with him now. Not just tonight, or later this evening, but now. My stomach went hollow as I heard the urgency in her voice. I told her I would call the restaurant and have him call them right away. She told me that they needed to see him immediately. A wave of anxiety flew through my body. My mind started racing. I asked what was wrong and all she could say was that they needed to see Mark tonight. I hung up the phone, still balancing Noah on the change table.
I dialed the familiar 10 digit number, my fingers feeling weak and shaky. As I dialed I thought, appendix, maybe gallbladder? What could be so urgent that they needed him on a Tuesday evening? I sent Audrey to go sit on her bed and read books while I called Daddy at work to give him a message. She happily obliged and said she’d play ponies until I was ready to read. My head was racing with my immediate dilemma as the phone continued to ring in my ear. How could I get Noah down and someone over to read to Audrey on a moments notice. My fear of the unknown was brewing deep inside as someone finally picked up at the other end.
A young girls voice answered ‘Guildford Keg Steakhouse and Bar, how may I help you?” the dinner rush sounded deafening in my ears. I said it was Leslie calling for Mark and she put me on hold before I could finish my sentence. She returned saying it was busy and that he would have to call me back. I told her it was urgent and she left me again, only she didn’t put me on hold this time. The sound of restaurant life streamed across the line making me more aware of how hard my heart was pounding and how dry my mouth had become in the minute and a half I waited to hear Mark’s voice.
Mark answered slightly annoyed at the phone call during the peak of the dinner rush. I ignored his tone and cut right to it . The doctor’s office called and they need to talk to you I said. He seemed calm, I will call them after the rush he said. I emphasized how urgent they sounded and his voice changed as he started to sense my fear. He tried to calm me down, explaining that he had not done the barium swallow that morning as planned because he had forgotten to fast but that he had done some routine blood work. He suggested it probably had something to do with that and that I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Mark had left an hour earlier that morning to do a barium swallow test. He had been feeling run down and had issues swallowing without pain. After 2 weeks of me pestering him, he reluctantly went to the walk-in. Two weeks prior, the doctor had made a loose diagnosis of GER. Mark had commented that it felt like he was swallowing glass and he had had a fever the week before and was more tired than usual. Nothing too out of the ordinary considering it was cold season and we had a child in preschool and a babe who hadn’t slept through the night in months. Coupled with his sick wait staff, our snotty preschooler and lack of sleep, fatigue was sloughed off as the norm.
I instructed Mark to call me from the car after he had rung the clinic on his way and I would get someone to watch Audrey and meet him there. Panic was starting to set in for me. Mark was much cooler under pressure which gave me something positive to focus on. I hung up the phone and waited for him to call me back. He said he would call me from the car in fifteen minutes. The clock read 6:40pm. Audrey was content and I sat in the rocker and gave Noah his nightly bottle while I madly dialed Lindsay’s number trying to squash the panic that was growing inside me. All I wanted was for Noah to fall asleep so I could join Mark and face whatever this news was. Noah remarkably, was oblivious to my angst and dozed easily, for once.
I rang Lindsay as he sucked his bottle back in the slow rhythmic way he did at bed time. It seemed an eternity for the 8 oz’s to disappear. Lindsay and I spoke in hushed tones and she never asked why, she said she could be over in 10 minutes. As Noah lay on my lap, I dialed Mark’s cell phone only to hear it ring and ring. I hung up and dialed again and again. I started to get angry, I was furious that he was not following through as he had promised. All I could think was pick up the phone! Answer it dammit!
I lay Noah asleep in his crib, he stirred when he touched the mattress but was out. I went into Audrey’s room where her pink IKEA flower light was casting a warm tone of pink across her quilt. She sat with books and ponies, waiting patiently oblivious to the chaos unfolding around her. I sat beside her, phone in hand redialing every 30 seconds in hopes that he had not forgotten his phone on the desk as he often did. His phone rang and rang, no answer. I settled Audrey and prepped her for the surprise stories she was about to get from our favourite neighbour Lindsay. I explained that I had to go run an unexpected errand and that Lindsay was coming to read stories and put her to bed. I asked her to wait just a few more minutes and one of us would read her a book. She agreed, easily.
The phone rang in my hands as I was walking out of her room. Noah asleep, Audrey content, it seemed as though I might escape this evening without drama.
I answered the phone…Where are you? Where have you been? I’ve been worried! I was in the hallway by now walking down the stairs to unlatch the door for Lindsay. I stood in the kitchen in front of the island staring at the counter as he spoke. My heart was pounding and I could hear my pulse in my ears. His voice was soft and broken, I could tell he had been crying. He said ” Les…they think I might have cancer. “ It was silent. I couldn’t speak. My legs felt rubbery and I leaned on the island for support. I could hear him holding back his tears. I asked him exactly where he was and said I’d be there in 5 minutes. I told him not to move, don’t drive anywhere just wait for me and I’d be there as soon as I could.
Lindsay walked up the steps and I opened the door as she arrived. She saw my face and she saw my panic, I had no time to soften the truth, I blurted it out, we hugged at the door and she told me to go. I grabbed my keys and double skipped the stairs to the bottom. The only thought I had in my head was how Mark was sitting there alone in a doctors office, I wanted to be there, I should have been there for him. I was mad at myself for taking so long to organize the kids.
I was shocked, mad, angry and panic stricken. My car couldn’t seem to go fast enough down the steep hill into Langley city where Mark sat waiting for me to arrive.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
For me...? Thank you.
There are those rare times every so often when something happens and you feel like it is speaking to you. Like it was meant for your ears, or your eyes and the greatest part about it, is that you actually realized it! It’s like a fleeting tease, a moment that dares you to believe that that very thing was meant for you. I'm not really talking about sunsets or rainbows, but less grandiose things. Smaller, simpler things.
It’s not very often that it happens, and I doubt that I ever took the time to slow down and see it before. Often, getting too caught up in the busyness of the day and trying to rush from point A to point B. I made a decision a few months ago that I was not going to be a slave to my schedule anymore. Sure, I’m still going to get to work on time and to the daycare before it closes, but I decided that I could not live my life in the perpetual rush state that had become my reality. I put my foot down (I guess with myself) and said no more rushing.
It’s been nearly two months since I made this commitment to myself and I am feeling like life is a little bit kinder to me. Less demanding in some respects, though I didn’t change much. All I did was decide that I wasn’t going to race all over the place anymore because it was stressing me out! A little piece of me is reluctant to make New Years Resolutions or Lists of What I Should be Doing as these things usually fade by mid-February and can feel slightly hollow given that we all expect to fail at them before the ink is even dry. But here we are mid February and I am reaping the small rewards of a less rushed life. A small victory.
Which brings me to Dave, the “Dave and Morley Dave” of The Vinyl Café. The kids and I usually catch bits and pieces of it in the car on the weekends and I always love to hear the kids giggle when they listen. (A true sign my kids are growing up!) The story today was “Dave’s Letter.” As I listened to the story and the musical guests I felt like it was meant for me in some small sort of way. The people, the places, the music, the sentiment expressed by Dave at the end. All of these things seemed to represent something significant to me, something that I could identify with. It made me smile quietly to myself as I sat at the bar and drank my coffee listening to the familiar delivery of Stuart McLean.
This in itself was not a luxury I ever made time for before. My weekends up till recently were filled with driving to and from activities and generally playing catch up on laundry and meal preparations for the week. I felt pleased with myself for having made the time to sit and listen to a 45-minute favourite show of mine.
As the story unfolded and Dave pondered his list I thought about my own. How different would it be? What else would I add to my “do not rush list” to open myself up to all the possibilities of connection that await us? I like Dave’s list so I will share it below. And if you have 45 minutes to spare, give the podcast a listen, it’s a good one. I’m probably not the only one who feels like the Vinyl Café speaks to them personally.
Dave’s List
(as heard on the Vinyl Café by Stuart McLean Feb 20th, 2011)
Tell the truth
Ask for help
Don’t speak of others behind their back
Strive to forgive
Be generous
Be quiet
Read books
Eat your greens
Thank you Stuart...and to Dave.
I'm glad I made the time to listen. Your list already came in handy today, I will keep it close by as the rest of the year unfolds before me.
http://www.cbc.ca/podcasting/pastpodcasts.html?44#ref44
It’s not very often that it happens, and I doubt that I ever took the time to slow down and see it before. Often, getting too caught up in the busyness of the day and trying to rush from point A to point B. I made a decision a few months ago that I was not going to be a slave to my schedule anymore. Sure, I’m still going to get to work on time and to the daycare before it closes, but I decided that I could not live my life in the perpetual rush state that had become my reality. I put my foot down (I guess with myself) and said no more rushing.
It’s been nearly two months since I made this commitment to myself and I am feeling like life is a little bit kinder to me. Less demanding in some respects, though I didn’t change much. All I did was decide that I wasn’t going to race all over the place anymore because it was stressing me out! A little piece of me is reluctant to make New Years Resolutions or Lists of What I Should be Doing as these things usually fade by mid-February and can feel slightly hollow given that we all expect to fail at them before the ink is even dry. But here we are mid February and I am reaping the small rewards of a less rushed life. A small victory.
Which brings me to Dave, the “Dave and Morley Dave” of The Vinyl Café. The kids and I usually catch bits and pieces of it in the car on the weekends and I always love to hear the kids giggle when they listen. (A true sign my kids are growing up!) The story today was “Dave’s Letter.” As I listened to the story and the musical guests I felt like it was meant for me in some small sort of way. The people, the places, the music, the sentiment expressed by Dave at the end. All of these things seemed to represent something significant to me, something that I could identify with. It made me smile quietly to myself as I sat at the bar and drank my coffee listening to the familiar delivery of Stuart McLean.
This in itself was not a luxury I ever made time for before. My weekends up till recently were filled with driving to and from activities and generally playing catch up on laundry and meal preparations for the week. I felt pleased with myself for having made the time to sit and listen to a 45-minute favourite show of mine.
As the story unfolded and Dave pondered his list I thought about my own. How different would it be? What else would I add to my “do not rush list” to open myself up to all the possibilities of connection that await us? I like Dave’s list so I will share it below. And if you have 45 minutes to spare, give the podcast a listen, it’s a good one. I’m probably not the only one who feels like the Vinyl Café speaks to them personally.
Dave’s List
(as heard on the Vinyl Café by Stuart McLean Feb 20th, 2011)
Tell the truth
Ask for help
Don’t speak of others behind their back
Strive to forgive
Be generous
Be quiet
Read books
Eat your greens
Thank you Stuart...and to Dave.
I'm glad I made the time to listen. Your list already came in handy today, I will keep it close by as the rest of the year unfolds before me.
http://www.cbc.ca/podcasting/pastpodcasts.html?44#ref44
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
handbook, watch out
I wish you had written me a handbook. I could have really used it today, and numerous other times over the last week alone. Ideally, it would have been written in the “Book of Rules” style format. Lots of headings, labeled with the page number attached for quick reference. I’d keep it in my purse to use at a moments notice, or I’d throw it at people when they’re being insensitive. Like today.
I would have looked up, “what to do when a group of women you’re eating lunch with keep discussing the tragic circumstances of Mr. 36 yr old young guy who’s been diagnosed with cancer and it happens to be the week your husband died.” The conversations rarely end there either. How sad, and he has this kind and that kind, but they can’t operate because of this reason and that reason. (How could they possibly know this much?!) And so and so, knows this person who had the same type, and this person’s ex had a similar kind of cancer…How can people presume to think it’s okay to talk about others like this?? Don’t people know that cancer gossip is the most hurtful kind? All the while, the only thing I can do is sit there silently while the tears brim to the surface and I look for the nearest exit so I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I wonder what your one line response would have been to shut them down. You would have been brave enough to say something.
I could also use some guidance on how to not feel so guilty when I can’t attend every school activity for our kids. Especially the ones mid-day, mid-week with ultra short notice, like tomorrow. And it would be great to have a child-approved answer for why I NEVER volunteer for field trips. Or why do we have to stay at daycare for so long?? I just have this feeling that your answers to these pleas would be more accepted, simply because they were yours.
I know the big ones will come in time, like the lessons of life, and how to tell our son about man-like things. These are not the ones that seem so big and scary to me. It’s the little things. Like trying to remember the happy times we had together as a family rather than focusing on what’s been lost simply because of a date on the calendar. I could really use a whole section on this because if you look hard enough there’s probably a dozen of them a year.
So, yes, I wish you had written me a handbook, or better yet, a survival guide to getting through the week. Seeing that this is impossible, I suppose I could keep “The Rules of Life" handy even if just to throw at people when they make me cry.
I would have looked up, “what to do when a group of women you’re eating lunch with keep discussing the tragic circumstances of Mr. 36 yr old young guy who’s been diagnosed with cancer and it happens to be the week your husband died.” The conversations rarely end there either. How sad, and he has this kind and that kind, but they can’t operate because of this reason and that reason. (How could they possibly know this much?!) And so and so, knows this person who had the same type, and this person’s ex had a similar kind of cancer…How can people presume to think it’s okay to talk about others like this?? Don’t people know that cancer gossip is the most hurtful kind? All the while, the only thing I can do is sit there silently while the tears brim to the surface and I look for the nearest exit so I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I wonder what your one line response would have been to shut them down. You would have been brave enough to say something.
I could also use some guidance on how to not feel so guilty when I can’t attend every school activity for our kids. Especially the ones mid-day, mid-week with ultra short notice, like tomorrow. And it would be great to have a child-approved answer for why I NEVER volunteer for field trips. Or why do we have to stay at daycare for so long?? I just have this feeling that your answers to these pleas would be more accepted, simply because they were yours.
I know the big ones will come in time, like the lessons of life, and how to tell our son about man-like things. These are not the ones that seem so big and scary to me. It’s the little things. Like trying to remember the happy times we had together as a family rather than focusing on what’s been lost simply because of a date on the calendar. I could really use a whole section on this because if you look hard enough there’s probably a dozen of them a year.
So, yes, I wish you had written me a handbook, or better yet, a survival guide to getting through the week. Seeing that this is impossible, I suppose I could keep “The Rules of Life" handy even if just to throw at people when they make me cry.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
smile
I saw it in your face tonight, and again last night. You smiled, and I saw your Dad. It wasn’t just a glimpse, it was a familiarity that emerged like it was always there, I just couldn’t see it till now.
A protective barrier maybe? A safety mechanism perhaps, put in place until I could welcome the day when you smiled and I see him in your eyes. I thought I would cry, but I didn’t. I looked at you again tonight as we played lego. I couldn’t help but stare as though I was noticing for the first time how your brown eyes squint when you smile, just like your Dad’s used to. I think you’ve always done it but I wasn’t quite ready…till now.
A protective barrier maybe? A safety mechanism perhaps, put in place until I could welcome the day when you smiled and I see him in your eyes. I thought I would cry, but I didn’t. I looked at you again tonight as we played lego. I couldn’t help but stare as though I was noticing for the first time how your brown eyes squint when you smile, just like your Dad’s used to. I think you’ve always done it but I wasn’t quite ready…till now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
