Confidence Lost

 The thing about brain tumours and the resultant short term memory loss is that it makes you doubt yourself. This evening I had yet another example of confidence lost. We are heading away early tomorrow morning. We booked into an airport hotel for tonight since our flight is very early. 

I took today off work so I could make sure I was all organised. I had a lie in and a relaxed start to the day. I finished up packing what little I need for our trip, before popping out to a nearby cafe for lunch with a friend. We had a lovely catch up and I returned home and spent the afternoon doing some light housework. By the time hubby got home from work I was feeling quite smug….. I had packed all my stuff and some of his, got most of the laundry up to date, cleaned the bathrooms, and walked the dog. I’d even written him a wee list of things he still needed to pack……socks and clothes. I can pack his boxer shorts and toiletries, but socks are specific to what you’re taking to wear, and I wouldn’t choose my husband’s outfits any more than he would choose mine.

When he got home, he took the dog to kennels and then showered while I made the dinner……okay, okay, while I warmed up the sweet and sour chicken he’d made last night!! 

All sorted. Let’s hit the road. He drove us the 45 or so miles to the airport and our hotel for the night. I was checking in when I had a sudden thought, “I don’t have my passport”. I could feel the dread rising up from deep down in my stomach as the words came out of my mouth. We checked in and headed up to our room, where we set about unpacking our bags in the hope it was in there somewhere. It wasn’t. 

I had to surrender my driving licence after a couple of partial seizures in recent months. It’s been pants. Pure pants. It sucks having to rely on others and on public transport in a country that I reckon has amongst the worst transport infrastructure in the western world. The other problem is that most of us keep our driving licence on our person…..men often in their wallets, women in their handbag. As a result of this, we pretty much always have photographic ID handy. 

We aren’t flying abroad but we still photographic ID to be allowed to board. No driving licence, no passport, no photographic ID, no boarding. GAH!! 

We came up to our room and had another thorough search. Nope. No passport. No photographic ID. Gadzooks :( Hubby immediately lifted the car keys and said he’d go home and get it. But where was it?? I knew I’d lifted it out of its home in the desk earlier in the week but couldn’t remember where I’d put it. Being the gentleman that he is, hubby wouldn’t let me go back up the road with him. He told me to relax and he’d be back in a while. He left as I listed all the places I might have put it. I then sent an expletive filled message to my sister, cursing cancer and how difficult life can be. She rang me and talked calmly to me, reassuring me that he’d find it and everything would be ok. As we spoke I had a realisation…. I had looked at my passport earlier in the week but I was checking the date on it, I hadn’t been thinking about needing to bring it for this trip. As I remembered that I reasoned that I most likely looked at it and put it back where it belongs. I even remembered the year it expires. 

Regardless of all this reasoning, I still fretted. What if he couldn’t find it? What would we do? Should I tell him to go without me? How would I get home? As I catastrophised to my sister, I heard a jingling noise. ‘He’s arrived, I heard the camera doorbell alert’, I told her. A short term later I heard the jingling again, ‘That was quick! He must’ve found it! It must’ve been in the desk!’ Delighted, I hung up the phone and set about organising our stuff for the night.

I was brushing my teeth when the doubt grew to a palpable level. What if he hadn’t found it? What if he hadn’t been as quick as it seemed? Another brain tumour quirk is a lack of sense of time. I often have no concept of how long has passed. So off I headed into catastrophe land again. 

I busied myself getting ready for bed, whilst waiting for the door to open. I heard the click of the keycard opening the lock and saw my darling husband waving my passport triumphantly! He joked about making sure it was definitely mine he’d lifted, not once complaining about the additional hour and a half he’d had to drive due to his wife’s rubbish memory. He even optimistically reminded it was lucky I’d realised tonight rather than at the gate in the morning! 

This is our new reality. As ever, the only thing I lost was my confidence. I knew where my passport was. Granted, I forgot to bring it with me, but I knew where it was and that’s a win in my AD world*

Plus…my guy’s the best guy! Some man for one man :)

*BC Before Cancer, AD After Diagnosis

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