Mind You
| November 11, 2020Will I remember who I was when I no longer recognize myself?

I blink in the sunlight after the artificial light of the doctor’s office.
Of course that’s why I’m blinking. I’m not scared of doctors or diagnoses. I suspected this. It’s why I made the appointment in the first place.
Still, my hands are shaking. And my cheeks are wet.
I finally fish out my keys from my Mary Poppins bag. Ben’s name. Savta Simcha wasn’t even born then, okay? And in those days, Disney was kosher. But I like my bag. I like it big and able to fit a lot of things, even if it means I need to fumble for my keys. I always fumble for keys. It has nothing to do with — with anything.
Ben. Maybe it’s a brachah that he’s gone. I wouldn’t want him to need to deal with this.
Right, because I’d much rather the kids take this on.
I take a deep breath and turn the key in the ignition. What now? How much longer will I be able to handle work, kids, life? I swipe at my eyes.
I decide to stop off at the library. There’s too much to do — it’s Wednesday, Baruch and his family are coming for Shabbos and I have nothing in the house, but there’s always too much to do, isn’t there? I need to learn whatever I can about the journey I’m going to be taking.
June 2
Dear Diary,
No, I haven’t totally gone off the… But “Dear Diary” is written on the top of every page in this book, which is one reason I chose it — I’ll have to keep things short and simple.
What does it say about me that I’m taking this journaling idea from a book I read instead of from the Shaarei Yonah, who advises cheshbon hanefesh?
I was never good at journals. I’m only hoping that chronicling my illness will help me — and everyone else — look back and remember who I once was when I no longer recognize myself.
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