Crappiversary

There are moments in your life that are so monumental that they are forever ingrained in your psyche.
These moments can be milestones or traumas. They can be joyful or painful.

The moment becomes a memory, the memory a story you tell yourself. Somewhere in that story, are truths, half truths, and lies that make up your reality and shape who you are from that moment going forward. Even as the moment is happening, you can have an out of body experience and realize that some smell, some taste, some word, some thing will always remind you of this exact moment.

While my husband was speaking to the anesthesiologist and surgeon about the surgery that had in moments, for me anyway, gone from bad to major. I tried to both listen and keep my son, 6 at the time, distracted.

I still had the wherewithal to realize that the outfit I picked for that day, would forever be linked to the day I found out my husband had cancer.

Cancer.

It was all wrong.

I wasn't there for this awful news. My husband, partner, and father of my child had been all alone when he got this information. He had to sit on that and wonder how he was going to tell me when I returned with our child. Our child who was already scared and worried about his dad. The reason I'd picked him up was so we could all spend some time together and we could reassure him that his dad was going to fine.

He did it. He told me. Calmly, and with resolve. Like he had already decided what was going to happen.

My mind was racing. I was shocked. I was trying to reign in my already anxiety ridden brain. I looked at my husband who was still talking. "I'm a survivor, this is just another time I'll beat the odds," he said. Then I knew he would, and that those clothes would forever be the cancer clothes.

The next half of the year. Diagnoses and treatment were full of anxiety, fears, anger, frustration, and love. I haven't worn the cancer outfit, but I have worn the top and the pants separately. There's a brief moment where I remember that moment. It's not a surprise, and it's OK. This is just a part of my husbands story, our story.

What I didn't expect was having that moment, when the Kona ice truck pulled up to my work. Surrounded by my co-workers, and families, just like I had the year before.

Before I knew.

Before everything changed.