It was exactly one year ago that it all went so very bizarre for us. You had been acting weird and Neall had finally convinced the neurologist that you needed to be seen quickly. Daddy and you had gone to the Hogs game on the Friday night before and I was terrified he would lose you there. Pat and Paul met you in Branson, which was good since your car kept messing up. Here you are in a brand new car and it won't start several times. Of course, that was my fault becuase the talking air gauge that I got Daddy one year for Christmas had fallen out of the back of the glove box and knocked a wire loose.
Your appointment was that morning and I was so scared waiting on the call. Finally Daddy called and said that you were okay. It was a nervous breakdown. I had had no idea that you really were so worried with so much going on in our lives. I thought for sure being retired had given you a new sense of calmness and that you were at the happiest point ever. The doctor felt like you would be just fine once all the Zoloft got out of your system and you got some rest. Then he called back. The two of you were at the Honda dealership and the doctor's office called and said to come back. Something was very wrong--there was something on the CT scan. Daddy asked what it could be and the doctor said, well it might be a tumor. What a liar. He knew damn well it was a tumor and that you would not be alive in another six months. So Daddy told the serviceman he needed a car RIGHT NOW and got you into a rental Civic and headed back to the hospital. Of course you were terrified. Daddy called and told me that they found something--not sure what it was. I ran into my boss's office, told him I had to go and I didn't know when I would be back and took off. I called Tara, who as usual, took charge and called everyone else, and I took off to Wynne. Daddy asked me to stay there and wait to come to Little Rock to the hospital until the next morning.
My sister in law told me it was a brain tumor. I remember saying a little thank you to God that it was not Alzheimer's. The most hideous shirt was hanging on the closet doorknob in the hallway and we joked about how one day we would all laugh at you buying that shirt "back when you had the tumor". I never, ever dreamed you would never wear that ugly shirt or that it would hang in my closet now with all of your other clothes that you will never wear again.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
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