Memory

My dear friend very recently wrote of a fond memory of her soon-to-be-sold childhood home- "I recall... members of the bridal party at my first wedding lighting and dancing with sparklers on a snowy late November day". While I recall many warm and happy memories of their wonderful screened-in porch and secluded yard, I have no memory of that night. It sounds warm and wonderful. I can almost, but not quite, picture it. At times like this, I wonder what else I no longer know. On October 16, 2005, I suffered an internal bleed, though I didn't know it at the time. Early on October 17, I suffered a massive bleed. I had no idea. As my hemoglobin dropped, my brain oxygen also dropped and my judgement disappeared with it. I felt terrible so I called the doctor, waited for the appointment and waited for my turn, and waited and waited. Barely able to keep my balance, I walked into the office and was very quickly rushed to the hospital by my mother. Where I again waited. I didn't wait long, but each minute was difficult and I was drifting off. I was given fluids, oxygen and admitted. Later that night, blood, though I was leery of taking it. I was scoped and "the biggest ulcer we've ever seen" was discovered. Transfusions and fluids and medications continued. Pain pills and ooh, they kept up the oxygen for a day, then forgot. On October 20th I suffered another massive bleed. My hemoglobin dropped to 6. Again, I was drifting off. I have since come to realize that certain memories and some other things drifted off as my body struggled to supply my brain with oxygen. Nothing can bring back what is gone. I don't even know it's missing until I hear these stories and realize I have no recollection of being there. For me, it didn't happen. So these beautiful, impossibly young girls dance with sparklers on a chilly November evening and I don't remember who they were. I know I was there and who at least one other of them must have been. I remember walking down the aisle and what the bride said to me as I helped her with her final adjustments with her gown and veil. I recall first meeting her first husband and that dinner with her mother and our mutual friend and how very uncertain we were about him. But I do not recall that night, glistening with sparklers and youth and hope. Each time this happens I wonder what else I don't recall.