I remember, mama
2002 06 20
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My grandmother has to go to her first session at the heart and stroke clinic today, and part of what she needed to do beforehand was write up a medical history to take along with her. It's difficult for a woman born in 1927 to remember everything that's happened to her in 75 years. Wow. 75 years.
My grandmother was never really young to me, though I doubt most parents seem young to their children. From kneehigh height they all look old - even when they're 20 and barely out of childhood themselves. I remember thinking how old I'd be when I turned 20, then 25, then 30.
Now, I'm 33, and what struck me while I was helping my grandmother write up her medical history - as self-involved as this might seem on the surface - was how much of my life I can pin down depending on what she was going through at the time. How many small surrounding details I can remember. In so many ways, I remember her medical history better than I remember my own.
Yes, I remember you and Dolena going to the mall for the Swine Flu shots... Yes, I remember when you first started taking your thyroid medication, I remember you accidentally spilled some in a bowl of vegetable soup I was about to eat, we were still living on Riverdale Drive at the time. I remember. Yes, I remember, still living on Riverdale, the day your varacose veins popped and the bathtub filled with bloody towels... Yes, I remember when you had your ears pierced when you were 65., and I remember the stunned silence of last week when you had a stroke.
Sometimes it amazes, how much of your life you remember, when you measure it against the events surrounding other people.