iPhone – beatingcowdens

Every year, this same week, I sit down with my calendar, and one for the following year. I carefully transfer all the important dates I need to remember. I write the birthdays, anniversaries, and other important “days to remember.” There is probably some much more high tech efficient way to do this on my iPhone, but this is a job I am not looking to simplify, or give up. I enjoy the time spent reflecting on the year that passed, and wondering what the next year will bring.

During the course of the year, around all the birthday and anniversary reminders, the basic events of life fill in the blanks. I can look back on some weeks, and months – where there doesn’t seem to be an empty box, and wonder how we got through. There are the basics, PT, swimming, dance class, music class. There are some parties, and celebrations. Around them are peppered annual exams, like the cardiologist and the eye doctor. There are some “sick” visits with the pediatrician in there too.

But last year was a “special” year. Between us there were three surgeries. Tonight as I reviewed the calendar I saw a higher than normal number of pre and post op visits. I saw consultation appointments with surgeons, and each month seemed to remind me of a surgery that was, well life changing in its own way. There were certainly a lot of firsts in 2012.

And, sadly there were some lasts too. I couldn’t bring myself not to write GGPa’s birthday on the calendar. It would have been in just a few weeks. Instead I wrote it with a heart around it. This year he will have his cake among the angels. Nor could I stop myself from remembering his and GGMa’s anniversary the same way. It didn’t feel right to leave it off. I am sure she will appreciate a call or an Email anyway.

GGPa, GGMa, Grandma, and Pop (left to right)

I remember lots of birthdays on my calendar. Some for the very young, and others for those quite senior folks I love so much. But, even as I ink those special days into 2013, I know there are no guarantees. I know that my writing their special date doesn’t ensure that we will all celebrate together. It is reality. It is sometimes tough to swallow, but we are not in control.

In Newton Connecticut many young lives were tragically altered. “Calendars” forever changed. No rhyme or reason. No notice. Gone way too soon.

I attended the wake of a colleague tonight. A 45 year old, happily married father of three. He died suddenly Christmas Day. I can not say we were “friends” outside of work, but I can tell you not a person that met this man easily forgot him. His every breath was consumed wither with song, or words of his love for his family. And tonight as I paid my respects I carried a heavy heart, and the reality again, that there are no guarantees.

Meghan was sick this morning. Sicker than I have seen her in quite some time. I was home alone, as Felix works this whole week before New Year‘s. As she lay screaming on the bathroom floor, begging me to make the pain stop, I was terrified. I called my sister to bring me Pedialyte and some essentials. We lay there for quite a long time, at points her eyes were rolling – reacting to the pain in her stomach. I held her as best I could and I prayed, hard. I needed guidance. I needed answers, and I needed that pain to be relieved. He heard me, as He always does. She vomited several times over the next hour or so, eventually ridding herself of whatever she had eaten that was bothering her. I hadn’t seen that agony since the days of the gall bladder attacks when she was three.

We had had plans today, to celebrate my grandparents 67th wedding anniversary with them. Even as the color came back into her cheeks, and the spring back into her step. we stayed home. The lunch date that was on the calendar – unattended. Our warm wishes sent with a phone call instead.

The calendar is a nice guide. A road map of sorts. It tells us where we hope to head. But, as every day reassures me – it, like life, offers no guarantees.

This week the phone will ring. Appointments will be set. A thyroid biopsy will be scheduled. A surgeon for my spleen may even get written in to the calendar as “consultation.” 2012 for us will end as it began.

Although as I tossed the calendar into the trash tonight, I couldn’t help but feel… somehow older, wiser, and even more appreciative of those who somehow come across my calendar each year.

I left my house at 8:25 this morning. Admittedly it was later than I had wanted, but I struggle to clear my head in the mornings these days.

I drove for a bit, to all the local gas stations. I even spent a few minutes on line at one. Then I had my friend Siri call to make sure they had gas. Nope. Off that line too.

I drove past a station with a line that seemed manageable. I asked a woman if they had gas. She cried. She said, ” I have been here since midnight waiting. The delivery just hasn’t come.”

I finally ended up at Costco. I knew they had gas. If you are not from Staten Island, it will mean nothing to you when I say that the line began at Richmond Avenue by Best Buy, wrapped around Forest hill Road, onto Richmond Avenue, and the BACK into the Costco lot. I estimated 4 hours when I got on. It was 9:42

Four hours in the gas line is a LONG time. I had more time alone with my thoughts than I like. Thankfully, I had the iPhone to keep me a bit busy. But in between games of scrabble, there was way too much time to think.

It was flat out unnerving, almost surreal to be on a gas line of this magnitude. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I just knew I needed a full tank to get me through the week, so I waited.

I thought about the hurricane. Hurrican Sandy. My mind wandered to Hurricane Katrina, and the news coverage I watched I remember feeling like it was so far away. No more.

The recovery efforts taking place miles from my home, in areas I have frequented my whole life. I thought about their homes, and then I thought about the people- returning to find their homes uninhabitable. And those who could get in, well – they had the job of a lifetime ahead of them.

I thought about the mother, whose 2 babies were ripped from her arms in the rising waters. The babies, safe in God’s hands. The mother – tormented for all of her days. I prayed one of the many prayers I pray for her each day.

I thought about friends from work. Their losses. One with a new baby on the way. Waiting to have the FEET of water that entered their home addressed. Others who suffered damage to their own homes, and the ones whose parents or relatives homes were destroyed.

I thought of the trees that make my neighborhood so spectacular – ripped from their roots.

It was a really long line. So I had time to reflect on the courage, strength and resiliency I have seen. I thought about the downed trees, and the friends STILL without power of heat.

I though about the looters, the liars, and those taking advantage of the tragedy. And I truly hope God has a place all picked out for them.

I thought about my little girl, and all she has gone through, and how she continues to make me so proud. Today she put some of her favorite stuffed animals in a bag, “For the kids who lost everything.’

And of course, all thoughts always return to Grandma. 92 years old – most of it spent right here on Staten Island. She and Pop married in 1945, and moved into their current home in 1956.

Grandma came home last night. Late. So there was confusion as to exactly where she was, but we hung together as a family and worked out some of the kinks last night. I was anxious to see her, and Pop.

I thought about this year. The magnitude of so many things taking place in such a seemingly short period of time, and I remember why I am so tired. The diagnosis of Cowden’s Syndrome – so permanent and life changing, and even on top of that, this year has seen surgeries, cancer, loss of loved ones, more cancer scares, natural disaster… and I am only getting started.

I will shop for Christmas, but mostly I want Christmas to come, because its time to celebrate the birth of the Baby Jesus. We need something to celebrate.

1:35 (3 hours and 53 minutes) Hungry and tired, I pulled up to the pump. I don’t know – or care how much the gas cost. I only know my tank is full – at least for now.

Home for a quick shower, then right to Grandma.

Family. It always mattered a lot. It matters now more than ever.