It's odd how exhausting a vacation can be!
So, I'm not up to much writing as I'm about to head to bed. The hotel room fell preternaturally quiet after the door closed behind the kids. I felt at one point like the Grinch was screaming in my head 'noise, noise, noise, noise, noise!' The room empties of sound, true, but the absence of presence is astonishing. Anyways, today we were driving back to the hotel from Barrie where we'd spend the better part of the afternoon. I glanced over to my right and saw the Royal Victoria Hospital which was the place where I ended one life and began another. I walked in. I rolled out. In the middle my life had been saved by emergency surgery that had happened within moments of checking into Emergency. Saved by a surgeon who was called in on a Sunday. I remember them turning on the lights in the surgery. I remembered being wheeled away, looking back and seeing Joe sitting alone in a semi dark waiting room. I wondered if I'd see him again. I wondered what my life would be.
It was then, almost exactly five years ago, that I sat in a wheelchair for the first time. It was there that I listened to grim faced doctors telling me about my life to come. It was there that I wondered about my future. It was there that I drove by - on a vacation. A vacation full of children and family and laughter. A vacation away from a job that I love. A vacation away from a life of purpose. A vacation that I couldn't imagine then, when I worried that my future might not be accessible.
I kept my eyes on the hospital the whole way by, and then, suddenly, it was past.
Which was, I understood, really for the first time, where those worries belonged.