All the depressing news recently has made me more tetchy, more on edge, and honestly, just fed up with the state of the world. I. Can’t. Even.
Yesterday, I had an embarrassing triggering episode IN PUBLIC. WALKING WITH MY DAUGHTER. An ambulance sped by, as it does in every major city at least ten times a day. What was so special about this one? Well, it was a Children’s Acute Transport. The same kind which took my one-day-old baby away from me ten years ago. Cue instant tears and hyperventilation. On a busy road. In rush hour. Awesome. I tried focusing my attention on the beautiful, whole child next to me, but all the memories came rushing back in. For some inexplicable reason, I feel like I have to know what that journey was like for her. What they did with her? Did they have to resuscitate her again? I can start the process by writing and asking for her file(s). This irritates Husband as he feels like we should leave well enough alone and focus on fabulous DD. I wish I could. I’ve tried. But it’s like a horrible fungal infection that goes away, only to return a few months later. Memories are crap like that. Unshakeable. Or are they?
This morning’s journey in to work was strangely slow and delayed, and the city seemed muted. After last night’s episode, and this morning’s horse-strength antihistamines, I was too foggy to put two and two together and get my usual five. It was only when I got to work and stared at my phone that I realised today was 7/7. The eleventh anniversary of the London bombs. The day I nearly lost my fiance. The day I lost a friend. But you know what? Instead of the usual sadness, today, I had managed to forget. And it was nice. Nice not to be sad, to miss, to hurt, to cry. Reassured to know that it’s OK to forget for a moment.
So maybe next year, I’ll pass a CATS transport and I won’t cry. I’ll wish the wee bairn inside well. I’ll wish the doctors and nurses strength and knowledge to perform their jobs. And I’ll come home, and hug my perfect DD, and be grateful, instead of sad.
Maybe the world will be a slightly better place in a year. Who knows?