Last night, in my dream, I was a student. I was sitting at my desk--those tiny brown metal desks with the chairs attached--staring blankly at my teachers. I raised my hand and whispered to one, "I can't remember what is happening. I don't understand what is going on. I don't remember." I explained that I have thyroid cancer and the brain fog is getting worse. The teachers continued on with the lesson trying to repeat themselves as much as possible so that I would remember, but I was lost.
The irony of remembering the dream about forgetting made me chuckle a bit upon waking. I remembered even the smallest detail down to what I was wearing.
Removing cancer was the easy part. Now I've got to figure out how the hell to live without a thyroid. So far I'm not doing so great. The two things bothering me the most are my legs and my memory. I can't remember what I did three minutes ago sometimes. I had to ask Sean what our daughter's birthday was the other day. That's pathetic. I do, oddly enough, remember wacky things like our network key to our internet which is ten random digits, Sean's social security number, the name of a man he worked with back in 2007 that I never met. But I don't remember the drive to the store or what I was talking about a few minutes earlier. Sometimes I forget the beginning of a sentence by the time I make it to the end.
This is all frustrating more than anything. How am I supposed to be able to hold down a career when I'm ready to go back to work? How am I supposed to hold a conversation with anyone? Oh what a journey this will be.
*
Today was the first day that Dylan showed signs of being a bit weary of preschool. He calmly asked me if I could go with him into the building as we drove to school. I told him that I would be waiting for him when he was done and he nodded and told me that he likes school.
We were second in line at the drop off and the kid in front of Dylan totally freaked out. Tears, screaming, petrified to go into school. Dylan just stood there watching him with the biggest WTF kid look on his face. All of these little guys are a bit unsure of what to think of preschool. One of the teachers scooped up the crying boy and carried him inside and yelled back to his parents, "He stops crying as soon as we start, trust me!".
Dylan had a good note waiting in his folder when he came home. The teacher had written, "Dylan knew his address when I asked him! :)" Yay, Dylan! I'm so proud. He and I worked on memorizing our phone number over lunch and he was awarded one apple Teddy Graham each time he recited our number.
Ah, parenting.