Saturday, November 24, 2007
Memory is an odd and elusive thing. It favors our own particular mind set and our own values. We may remember any particular situation differently to someone else because of what we bring to that memory. We constantly dwell in our own existence.
And to exist is to have come from somewhere. A childhood, a year, a yesterday.
My yesterday is lost. My last year and the year before that is lost. This sickness and therapy has blurred and destroyed my memory to the point of making me wonder, am I still here?
My weeks and months seem to have no meaning because I cannot remember what I did, who I saw or what I thought about. I have nothing to show for it except lost time and emptiness. I have a few markers which I can go by to let myself believe over 2 years have passed. I remember my grandfathers funeral, a wild weekend I had, my great uncles funeral and then a blur of medical procedures.
I want to know what I did yesterday, I want to remember my children growing up and I want to remember important or even uneventful days. Without that who am I?
I've been photo documenting this entire process since just before my bone marrow transplant, so I have a visual diary and I have some things I wrote with dates on them. And thank goodness for this blog. Without it I'd be nowhere.