Sitting in my pick-up, waiting for my wife to come out of the store, I was suddenly imbued with a deeply rewarding memory. The parking lot was transformed to one from long ago - half my life ago - and my waiting was for several buddies to show up at the city park to start a rousing game of softball. I felt so vital!
That's how strong a memory can be. And all it took was a few moments of comfort provided by a small pain pill I had taken an hour earlier. The seat in my pick-up is comfortable anyway, and the particular position I had assumed in the seat after parking was somehow just right. Feeling no specific pain at that moment allowed me to forget all the general pains and to glory in the idea that I would soon leap from the truck and start warming up, throwing softballs around and stretching to prepare for the game.
Thirty-five years ago it was a different Ford pick-up I owned and the back end, under one of those raised "camper" covers, stored all the various sports equipment for my active life of the time. Carried also there were folding chairs to set out at the games, and along one side was a bench/bed where I often crashed during long afternoons or even over-nights at the lighted parks where 48-hour tournaments were popular. I couldn't get enough of them!
The store where I waited today was a pharmacy and my wife was thoughtfully picking up some more medication for me - the most needed, a strong cough deterrent to allow me to get some sleep or maybe even be able to hold a conversation without breaking into a "fit" of uncontrollable and unpleasant coughing. The lung, now filling up with malignant tumors, is struggling to find enough space for somewhat regular breathing. One last biopsy to go before it is determined what kind of treatment I am to get; then after a few weeks we can begin to assess any progress being made in the cancer fight.
But oh, those beautiful memories!
