You may remember that our house alarm likes to notify the entire neighborhood anytime my house fills with smoke. It also notifies the alarm company who in turn calls me to inquire on the status of my house.
So tonight, while cooking dinner, Bill from my alarm company called to see what was going on in my neck of the woods. I’m not sure why, but he wasn’t all that keen on accepting my invite for dinner. I honestly don’t know why he wasn’t interested; I told him it was smokin’ hot.
Well, it seems that there was good reason for my hesitation for publicizing my want to embrace another beginning. Why am I not surprised?
Shortly after coming home from YaYa’s game, I could feel a funk rolling in. I ignored it and pushed out a short but hard run. A trip through McD’s drive thru would serve to counteract any good that would come from my efforts. But I didn’t seem to care.
When we returned home I remained in my car parked in the garage while listening to a song. I then listened to another, and another, and another until I was sitting in total darkness. At this point, the feeling of apathy was so subtle that I didn’t think much of it. I just went with it.
I finally went into the house after talking to Lil Sis on the phone. Soon, I was in bed with my computer on my lap for some blogging time. A couple of hours later, I opened my eyes, closed my laptop, and turned off the lights.
It wasn’t until this morning, when I found myself unwilling to jump out of bed when the alarm sounded. I lay in bed with the want to sleep the day away trying to take hold. My fight against this feeling was weak. If there was ever a day to get out of bed quickly, today was it.
One look at the calendar would reveal two things:
For the majority of today, I had February 27th, 2007 in my mind as the day the tumors were discovered. I figured the approaching date was enough to bring on the funk — even though I sort of thought this year would be different. I turned to my blog after someone asked for a detail that I wasn’t exactly sure about. This was when I realized that I had committed the wrong date to memory.
To be exact, the stroke which sent us to the ER (for the 2nd time in a matter of days) occurred at 9:45 pm on February 25th. It’s kind of funny — the time, I mean. The last thing that I remember doing before I went unconscious was leaving a comment on Brit’s blog post where she describes how she marked the 1 year milestone since her friend, Erik’s passing. That comment, was left around the 9:30 pm.
I remember reading her post, crying when I got to the part about his wife and the daughter who will never really know her dad, feebly leaving leaving a comment that did not even touch upon what I really wanted to say — because I simply could not find the words.