April 29, 2010
Today is a great day to be alive! Oh April 29th, I approach you with humor. Go back with me if you will, for just a moment to April 29, 2003. How funny is it that on that day, Jeremy and I were visiting Tucson, checking it out to see if we wanted to move here. Low and behold, I spent the early morning hours of April 29th on the hotel bathroom floor trying to sleep between bouts of puking. I even passed out there on the cold tile. Jeremy didn't realize I was sick till the morning. He heard me puking and then heard a thud. I passed out as I was puking, bounced off the toilet and fell back on the tile floor, knocking my head good and hard. And get this, where did we head? To the UMC emergency room. How do I remember this you ask? I came across an old receipt as I was organizing my paperwork a few months ago from the ER visit.
Jump forward to what was the second worst day of my life: April 29, 2008. Yep, you guessed it, I was back at the UMC emergency room, taken by ambulance because my colon was going toxic on me. The day I thought I was going to die. I won't go into detail about that day again right now. If you read my blog, you've already read about it and God knows I don't want to re-live it today.
Ah, but we're not done yet. I'm not kidding! Where was I on April 29, 2009, you ask? One guess. Yep - that's right - the UMC emergency room! No joke. I had the flu and was vomiting non-stop and was admitted overnight for dehydration.
So what is it about this date? That's just too strange, don't you think? Seriously, it makes me laugh. And so through my laughter today I have been also filled with gratitude, because I have survived April 29th! It's a great day to be alive!
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GRAVESTONE
ReplyDeleteFrom the earliest possible time I can remember I dreamed over and over again that I was walking up a churchyard path--every detail of the church and the churchyard being quite distinct and vivid. Horses were wandering about aimlessly, the one unreal factor of the dream, and my long hair was clinging round me.
Suddenly, I would feel myself being drawn with great force to a graveside. On reading the grave, I would experience a terrible falling sensation, and awake to find myself in a state of terrible depression.
This dream repeated itself over and over again all through my childhood, never differing in any way.
When I was twelve years old I spent a holiday in the New Forest. Whilst cycling home one day after a swim, I found the very church of my dream, exact in every detail, including Forest ponies outside the gate. My hair was loose and wet. I found the grave too. It looked an ordinary grave until I read the description --Died April 29th 1934.
The day on which I was born.
The dream never returned to haunt me again.