I am sitting in the waiting room at the oral surgeon right now and I feel lucky. Lucky that they will be removing the heinous tumor between my front teeth that now feels like a tiny parasitic twin that’s sucking the life out of me and making it so I have to cut strawberries* with a knife and fork to eat them. I feel grateful because I actually showed up late–like 30 minutes so–when I spaced the true appointment time (and thought I was showing up early). They could’ve sent me packing to wait yet another month in this 7 month saga, but they didn’t and I’m hoping for a hole in the schedule so I can get this done.

The troubling thing is this: it is the THIRD time in the last few months that I have spaced something important. Although I am the kind of person who walks in late to meetings and parties, I am usually fully aware of my tardiness. But this is different. I keep surprising myself with these irresponsible moments of remembering wrong. The first infraction was accidentally skipping out on a day-long mandatory class for work. The second was showing up very late for my nephew’s birthday party, so late that we only made it in time to eat cake before the venue kicked the kids out of the party room and my children cried because they didn’t get to enjoy the bouncy houses with their cousins.

This is not like me. Besides my usual “island time” tardiness I am actually a dependable person, showing up basically when I say I will. I do this despite juggling the schedules of a full time manager, a mother of 6, and an individual who tries to make time for people who matter. Frankly I am worried about my behavior and the impact this spaciness might have on my life. What if I forget something even more important, like leaving my baby in the car or do something dangerous to a patient at work? Fear is making my heart rate go up as I type in this plastic chair, sitting amongst calm people who made it on time today.

…

Read More Read More