The Gas Station

Earlier this week I was in a part of town that I don’t often go. In fact, I haven’t been there since December 2011. And the reason I know this is because when I saw this:20140721_112406I was immediately transported back to that time on a particular day. A wave of overwhelming sorrow that occupied my whole body, my whole being, came rushing back to me. And all the hurt and confusion and sadness too. Not because I was sad, but because my body was remembering.

Why was I sad about a gas station? I’m so glad you asked.

This is the gas station outside of the doctors clinic where I tried to get gas after my appointment, but had forgotten how to fill up my car because my mind was blank. This is where it felt like I had forgotten how to breathe and I had to keep reminding myself to. Where my hands shook, my brain went numb and I felt that the world had just crashed.

I had gone to the doctor for a simple check up and instead I was told that the reason I was feeling tired was because I had Premature Ovarian Failure (POF) and basically I was in menopause. The doctor showed me blood test results from exactly one year before that clearly illustrated diagnosis.

Nobody had called to tell me the results of those tests.

Could I have kids? No.
Would there be other health complications? Yes.
Could you please write this down for me? I asked, knowing I wasn’t really hearing anything.

I called Gord and asked him to meet me at home.

And then I tried to get gas, which seemed like the equivalent of doing quantum physics.

After hours of crying, of Gord being the most amazing (future) husband ever, of calling my dad and telling him, I don’t think Gord knew what to do, so he suggested, clearly, the only logical thing: “Let’s go to the mall and buy you a new sweater” (what the…!?)

So off to the mall we went. And he held me tight the whole time as we walked aimlessly around (I did in fact not want to buy a sweater) and all I remember was seeing ‘old lady’ stores with mom jeans and applique sweaters with bunnies and chickens and I kept saying “I’m going to have to start shopping there because I’m old and broken”

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have come a long way from that day; I’ve done a lot of work on me, I have defined and redefined what it means to be a mom, there is a sweet and challenging little boy now in our lives, I’ve had the most angry times in my life and happiest times in my life since the day at the gas station and so much more has happened in a few short years that I couldn’t begin to describe it all.

And here’s the funny:

The same day that I drove past the gas station and felt all those crazy emotions instantly rush back, is the same day I bought a pair of pants at one of those old lady stores.

And dammit I like them!

 

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2 thoughts on “The Gas Station

  1. Thank you for sharing this memory with us. It must have been an incredibly difficult time for you. But this post also made me smile – I’m thinking we need a picture of those new pants?! (Glad you didn’t get the appliqued sweater though)

    And thanks for linking to #WASO xx

    • Haha. I usually take pictures of EVERYTHING…but left the pants out! I’ll hold off on bunny sweaters for a few more years;)
      It was hard, but I think many people who come to adoption go through this, and much worse, before getting to a good place. So grateful for my amazing family:)

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