"Stupid tumor" is my umbrella catchphrase of a curse that I say mostly in my head, sometimes out loud, when a situation is frustrating or sad or just plain awful AND it's related to Steve's absence. It's about the closest I get to cursing, though I occasionally have fun with our last name. (As in, "this is a Damm happy place" or "I'm here to pick up the Damm kids.")
I just had another "stupid tumor" moment.
Katie has strep throat, diagnosed this morning. (On my fourth day of work at my new job. I'll blog more about that later, but for now I want to express thanks for very flexible working conditions.)
She's taking antibiotics and pain relievers and should feel better midday tomorrow. Tonight, about an hour after going to bed, she woke with a night terror. It's the second this week, after going months and months without them.
Then I started to wonder: Was her most recent bout of night terrors last spring, when she was constantly fighting ear infections? It's the kind of question that I would ask Steve. Between the two of us, we had a great collective memory. Left on my own, there are some holes.
I can't ask Steve, of course.
Instead, I sent a text to one of my best friends, asking if she could recall the timing of Katie's last night terrors. Liz called back right away, and we talked about it, concluding that maybe it's pain and/or fevers that contributes to the really bad dreams.
I am absolutely thankful that I have friends and family to call on, people who love Steve and me and our children. In moments like these, I am intentional about finding silver linings and unexpected blessings -- after I say or think my little curse.