This picture has been stolen from me.
But not in the way that I can issue a DMCA "take down" notice. It's not being used without permission in an advertisement. Hell, it's not even my picture, it's Amanda's.
This picture has been stolen from me by what it now represents. What it now means. And it shouldn't. This is an awesome, amazing, sweet picture of two kids having fun. Lots was talked about in the few days after it went up, of Teddy going on his first date, taking his girlfriend for a ride. How Harper was clearly into bikers. This should be an awesome picture of two kids, and a reminder of good friends that can be counted on in an instant.
But it's not that. Not to me, as much as I want it to be.
This is from when Jason and Amanda (and Harper) watched after Teddy for us unexpectedly one evening. While Laura was pregnant with Nicholas and wasn't feeling well.
While this picture was being taken, we were sitting in the OB clinic at Walter Reed. Laura was dehydrated is all it turned out to be, so she got a bag of fluid.
While this picture was being taken, and while Laura was getting an IV, is when I started having my first acute symptoms of Sylvia. 3 years later and I still remember it as clear as yesterday, sitting in the waiting room and realizing I was seeing double, that there were two tulips where there should only be one.
And passing it off as nothing, as stress, as a headache, as something I was able to control. After all, I was able to drive us home, pick up Teddy, and all was well, right?
I haven't updated in almost exactly a year. There have been some happenings, but nothing too significant. I got a new doc down at Portsmouth. I *REALLY* like this one. Don't get me wrong, I liked the last one, too. But, Laura wasn't so hip to him. He was an older guy, rather cocky, and rubbed her the wrong way. I can see why. [Edit to add after she's read this: "He talked about his golf game!" - Laura]
New doc is young, and very engaged in my care. First meeting she admitted she had read my case, but didn't get all of it, and wanted my story. We talked about the whole case, from, well, three years ago today up to today.
Whereas the last guy told me that my MRIs had been reviewed from start to finish, she did it with me. "Have you seen your MRIs?"
"No. Well, sort of. I've got a copy of them all, I've looked at them, but I have no idea what I'm looking at."
"Oh, gosh, okay. Come here."
And we went to the radiology room thing, with, literally, an entire wall full of LED computer monitors. She brought up MRIs from pre-surgery, post-surgery, 6 months later, and today. Scrolled through them. Pointed out changes. Pointed out what we give a shit about. What looks good. What needs monitoring, but hasn't changed. A full review, with me there, asking questions, getting straight answers.
The last guy said "Get an MRI every 6 months, no need to come in unless we call you." She said "Get an MRI every 6 months, and come see me. You had a brain tumor, I want to get eyes on you and talk just to make sure everything's going alright."
So, no, I don't want to take down the photo. It might be a harbinger of melancholy (them's some big words), but it does more than that. Yeah, it reminds me of what happened. But it also reminds me how lucky I am. Not just the "lucky to be alive" part, but also the "lucky to have such good friends" aspect.
Life in Virginia is going well. We're doing great, work is good, and things are falling into place. We've bought a house (finally!) and we love it here. For what few dear readers there are left of this blog, I hope all y'all are doing well, and wish you the best. Don't forget you've got a place to stay if you ever want to visit Historic Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown, Yorktown, and the area. Take care,
Ben
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