Do you ever wonder where 5 minutes of your time goes. I don’t know about you but I like knowing what I’ve been doing every
minute second of the day. Even if I’ve done nothing.
Imagine my horror at not being able to account for 6 full days of my life – that’s 604,800 seconds. It’s the not knowing, the ‘not being aware’, the not being able to remember…that drives me crazy.
More than 5 years ago, I had the most awful experience where I was wheeled in to deliver my baby and wheeled out unconscious after a cardiac arrest to another hospital, St. Mary’s Paddington (yes, the one of the Royal Family fame) by blue light ambulance to spend 6 days in ITU.
I recall NOTHING.
And that’s where I have a problem.
My husband is able to tell me how I looked and what happened but he wasn’t there 24/7 as he had the children to worry about too and a newborn baby included in the mix.
I need to know.
I need to remember.
Some small instance. A moment even.
Because it drives me crazy not knowing.
Not being able to recall anything.
If I were to lose one minute of the day now, I would regret it. Imagine losing 6 days’ worth.
It’s like having part of my life taken away from me, which I guess in a way it was.
I wish I was able to talk to someone who was by my side and saw what happened every step of the way.
To me, even days after that are hazy, filled in with bouts of memories and it’s like an itch that never goes away, that I can’t reach.
I need closure and I haven’t been able to get it so far.
It lies open like a festering wound, like I had amnesia. And I don’t like it one bit.
They say the mind is great at forgetting things that are horrible. Maybe this is one of those horrible things my mind wants to forget.
But I want to remember.
I still persevere and search out the innermost recesses of my mind trying to recall something – a face, a sound, a feeling. But nothing rings out and I’m back in limbo.
Of not knowing…of drawing a blank.
And it irks. And it will continue to do so until I remember…