Making Tracks

No, it's not another train post! I was in the shower this morning while Mrs. Dave was doing her hair. Since all the steam makes her hair go flat if I open up the curtain when I'm done, she hands me the towel over the top of the curtain. While I had my arm up waiting for the towel, the light happened to be just right so I could see almost all of the needle prick tracks from when I was in the hospital/getting blood drawn while I was sick, mainly the former. There must have been a dozen or more, and that was in my left arm. They drew most of the blood from the right arm. You can't really see it any other way unless you look very carefully. It was just an odd reminder of all I went through last summer.

 

The reason that is significant is because when I went to the emergency room that last time and they said I had the blood clot I really thought there was a chance the lights could go out at any time. I didn't know where that one (clot) came from so heck, another could be along any minute. As it turns out, I probably wasn't actually in danger of dying, but the feeling that the emotions of thinking it could actually happen stay with me. I'm glad things have worked out the way they have, but every once in a while I get that little reminder, like the needle pricks, of how I felt and it is powerful and stressful. Just a reminder that it can all go to hell at any moment. I wonder how people who actually narrowly escaped passing away handle things, because this is hard enough in my opinion.

 

Even before I got sick, for whatever reason, I frequently thought about what things would be like if I was gone. Not suicidal thoughts, mind you, I'm in no rush to the exit of this world, just what things would be like for my family, etc. Would anyone else even notice? Or what if I lost Mrs. Dave? No, I've never contemplated bumping her off at all, but what if what happened to her sister (who died suddenly of cancer, if you don't know) happened to her?

 

The thought of 'would anyone else even notice?' came during Mrs. Dave's sister's funeral. We were the third car or so in the procession. We reached the top of a large hill, and I looked in the rearview mirror and there were headlights as far as I could see behind us. I wondered if she would have had any idea that that many people knew and cared enough about her to come. We thought she probably wouldn't have.

 

Well, if you are still reading this, I can't imagine why, but thanks. I guess writing it all out was kind of therapeutic. Take care of yourself...

Dave