FlashBack to the Future

It has been almost four years since David’s been gone. I have to admit I feel a sense of pride at how much I have accomplished and how far I have come. I honestly spent most of my pre-David life being my worst critic, paralyzing myself from all God had in store for me. But through David’s love I am now THE cheerleader on Team Kathy, and I encourage myself to keep going so he will be proud. I even talk to myself (ALOT) and surprisingly most days I even listen to me!! I smile more, get out more, enjoy things more, life is getting much better-ish.

But there are still days when I cannot hear my own voice. I can’t feel happy, I can’t feel sad, I can’t feel angry, I can’t feel at all. Though they do not happen often anymore, they still happen. And recently was one such day: July 7th. All this time I blamed the long summers for my funk and depression and it turns out it was probably just one day (or week) all along. The week I have previously written about: between what was and what is.

There is a difference between a memory and a flashback. A memory is recalling past events that you can see and maybe feel. It is almost like a picture show, snippets of happy and sad times. I have lots of memories daily, especially since I have been sorting through boxes, packed up for the last several years. There are pictures, memorabilia, things I have saved just because, and things I have saved that I now wonder why? For me, a memory appears in a thought bubble, not meant to linger as an unwanted guest, but to help recall the moments that shaped me to what I am today. My memories always appear a little cloudy around the edges, like a fog creeping up from a damp earth to meet the coolness of the morning. I realize as I get older, each memory becomes a little more foggy at the passing of time. But that is okay, sometimes they are replaced with more recent memories that make me smile.

A flashback is different and for me, usually harsh. It is not just a thought I can control, but warp speed back to a time that controls me: emotionally, mentally and physically. I am not remembering the past event, but actually living it again. I cannot blink and make it go away, I can only ride it out like a roller coaster through the dark corners of my life, and I cannot get off until the ride stops. I believe a flashback happens on events so incomprehensible we do not have a set of emotions powerful enough to handle it. So our brain will suppress it just below the surface, like a volcano thought to be dormant, only to spew fiery magma of destruction and a cloud of ashes that linger for days. I’ve had a few flashbacks over the years, but nothing like the flashbacks from the last days/month of David’s life. This is the most traumatic thing that has happened to me, and PTSD is real.

So back to July 7th this year. It started out with a strange dream that had nothing to do with David or anything associated with his illness or death. I cannot remember how the dream began, what was the plot or how it ended. I can only remember the part that woke me up wondering what it meant. I spent the morning trying to analyze it to no avail. I was in that funk, and I thought it was from the dream I just could not figure out. But after the flashback I realized the mood was from July 7th, 2020. That was the day that really changed the course of our lives, not the July 10th cancer confirmation. It was the day we were in the brain doctor’s office…

David was very irritated and moody that day, of which I now know was the brain tumors. I was already teary eyed just trying to figure out where to drop him off, where to park and where the office was. I couldn’t do anything right. I clearly see the waiting room, the hallway we walked down and the exam room in detail. I remember the brain surgeon and another doctor of some sort in the room. I remember where we sat, where they sat and the scans of David’s brain. This is where the flashback starts: We are shown the four spots on David’s brain and the doctor alluded to the suspicious tumors and his melanoma cancer. Of course they could not confirm it until the one on his temple was biopsied. I could see David’s profile in my peripheral vision and his silence was deafening. And when he looked at me, a strange look of fear and denial were apparent on his face. It was like watching a battle of expressions and either way, he was going to lose. I did not remember that look until now and I can’t shake it. I also didn’t remember this: I knew that day it was his cancer again. As much as I wanted to think positive thoughts, I knew. So many words, so many random things were spinning around in my head and I couldn’t utilize any of it. My brain was not equipped for this and I was paralyzed sitting in that chair. So I did what I didn’t know I could do: I went numb. Numb of real emotions, numb of physical joy or pain, mental numbness that nothing bad could penetrate. And it was then that I realized the emotion David chose, he went numb too.

In a flashback you can carry the emotions, or lack thereof, back with you to reality. And that is where I have been this week: alternating between tears and numbness, no normal emotions. The tears are because I am mad at myself for going numb back then, maybe I should have fought through the numbness for both of us. But my heart knows now, it would not have made any difference. It somehow still hurts…alot. But at least I recognize I am not to blame, there was nothing I could do even if I was the doctor. Cancer is a thief.

I am thankful though, for this most recent flashback. I can quit blaming long summers and disrupting the happiness I have allowed myself. I will eventually work through these new suppressed emotions, I just won’t let it take so long this time. God, not Satan, took me back to that day. Not to hurt me, but to recognize where the numbness began. And like the cancer that robbed David of his life, I allowed numbness to rob me of His plan until now. Satan can no longer rub his hands in anticipation of knocking me off the mountain I worked so hard to climb.

Sometimes God moves our mountains and sometimes He holds our hand as we take every step to the top. He catches us when we stumble, points out the beauty of the mountain among the pain of the climb, and occasionally gives us a push up, over the ledge that is a little too big for us to maneuver alone. Only He knows the true price of every step, the price He paid to have this majestic mountain built for me, the price David paid that encourages me climb it, and the price I am still paying to see the view at the top. God gave me a flashback to my future, one I will choose to move to a memory I can blink away and not consume me. And when the fog clears a little more, I will begin the climb again. I hear the view at the top is breathtaking!