Our family has a great tradition, we create family history events that go into a vault to be recalled at both appropriate and inappropriate moments.
Illness has offered many family history moments. Like the time I had an undiagnosed clot on the lung, and every time I laughed I also cried. Or the weekly shopping trips when we all walked at a snail pace chatting and talking normally as I grimaced through every step; being followed by the eyes of strangers and acquaintances alike. The kids timed me once, 8 minutes to walk 50 metres through the local shopping centre. That happened a lot when I was playing in a tennis one day and shuffling along the next.
One of worst challenges in the early stages of my Lupus Life was organising medication - getting the scripts, remembering where the repeats were, the location of the tablets, and the emergency stash in the office and/or car. Every time I left the house someone would chirp up with ' h..a..v..e you ta..k..en y..o..u..r tab....l....e....ts? in a suitable sing-song voice. If I let them, they still do it even though I have IV infusions now.There are other family history moments with nothing to do with me; like the "don't encourage him" call to family members when celebrating with Robert. Why, because laughing just encouraged him to keep up his comedic routines. Did he love it? Yes. Did he take any notice? Not a bit. Recently, at our 30 something daughter's wedding, a special niece just couldn't resist taking us back to those early days with this chant.
And, there are more serious memories, from a mother's point of view. I had been suffering for several years, barely able to walk, definitely no sport or swimming for way too long; just a regular routine of pain and peace. Never knowing what the next minute would offer. It was a Friday night and my normally quiet 15 year old son was being playful and pretended to launch himself into my lap as I was resting in my reclining chair. He mistimed the launch. We both ended up upside down on the over turned chair. The emotions that flashed across his face were priceless; from OMG what have I done, to it's OK she's alive - and laughing.
The vault is well stocked, but that's all I'm sharing at the moment. For me, it's enough to know I can rifle through the vault anytime.
Except for one of my gardening stories. My body self awareness and co-ordination were a bit wonky at the time; and I was extraordinarily exhausted - in other words, just a normal Lupus day. I had a strong and urgent need to get rid of some ferns that were invading our home entrance pathway. They simply annoyed me when I saw them. There are quite a few stories about personality changes in the vault! This almost fits into that category. It wasn't my usual response to the garden.
Grabbing a handful of stems I made one strong snip - just about snipped my index finger to the bone. Missed the stems totally, got my hand holding the stems!
