with a careless memory

As I mentioned here, my current writing project has me going through old day planners, photo albums, school transcripts, tax records, etc. as I construct a timeline of significant events in my life.  And while for the most part it’s been pleasant or fun to be reacquainted with hazily-remembered or forgotten events, people, places, and things (like the cars I’ve owned), sometimes it has not.


I wrote out a lengthy blog post about some of the bad memories I have reminded myself of, but it was just too personal and too depressing.  Instead, let me share a less traumatic one with you.


When I was about 8, my mother woke me up for school one morning and as I tried to get out of bed, I fell to the floor.  I was literally paralyzed from the waist down.  I could not feel my legs.  I didn’t have that “pins-and-needles” sensation when your arm or your foot goes to sleep: I just felt nothing.  I couldn’t move my legs, and they couldn’t hold me up.


My mother carried me from my room and put me in tub of warm water.  I sat there while she called the doctor.  After soaking there for about a half an hour, I could move and feel them again.  Again, no “pins-and-needles,” or anything like that:  one moment, they didn’t function, the next, they did.


My mother took me to the doctor that morning, of course, but he had no idea what had caused the paralysis or why it had gone away.  It only happened that once, and never again.  Weird, huh?


It will be good to get this project done and put some of those memories behind me again.  Put them back in the planners and photo albums and storage boxes and wherever else they belong.  Start looking–and moving–forward once more.



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