Time moves on
by Rick Watson
Jan 29, 2012 | 1377 views | 0 0 comments | 11 11 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Rick Watson
Rick Watson
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When you’re young you think you’ll live forever and age is such a foreign and distant concept. I can remember when I was 20, trying to imagine myself at 60 and I simply could not conjure up an image.

Never would I have believed that my hair would have gone south, and to be frank, I’m still a little peeved about that. But all in all, life has been good to Jilda and me.

Through the years, we busied ourselves with our daily routines — working, studying, writing songs, and playing music; and time moved on.

Things weren’t always easy, and money was often tight in the early years, but we managed. We both worked two jobs at times, and found a way to make ends meet.

Later we went to night school and got some degrees. Gradually our job situations began to improve. We built a new house and moved out of our cozy little mobile home ... actually, snug might be a better way of describing the trailer.

We planted flowers and fruit trees, and turned the new house into a home; and time moved on.

I think Jilda and I got along better than most. That’s not to say there weren’t times she got so angry with me, that she could have carved me up with a butcher knife and left me twitching in the laundry hamper with the wet towels and dirty sox.

There were times I fantasized about a similar fate for her, but those times were few. We learned to say “I’m sorry” and time moved on.

We were fortunate because my job with MaBell gave us an opportunity to travel all over the country on business. Jilda often traveled with me to San Francisco, Seattle, Boston, Atlanta, Miami, Mobile, New Orleans and Arizona as well as other places.

We continued doing the things we loved. We made new friends, played music and grew up together. I’m not sure we expressed enough gratitude, but time moved on.

Then a few weeks ago a doctor’s visit fired a shot across our bow. Jilda was sick with all kinds of bugs and infections for most of 2011. She’d gone in for yet another lung infection, and the pulmonary doctor found something abnormal in her blood work that hadn’t shown up before.

He was a little vague about what it meant, instead he referred her to another doctor.

When we looked up the new doc, it turns out she is an oncologist/hematology specialist. WHAT?

You would not believe the kinds of things your mind can conjure up when it’s not sure what you’re up against. It took a few long days to get an appointment.

I went in for the visit too, and as we sat in the examining room there were those medical posters hanging around that explained about lung cancer and its implications.

When the doctor came in and began talking about her findings, I blurted out — does she have cancer? I breathed a sigh of relief when she said no, but there is still a problem with Jilda’s immune system they have yet to pinpoint, but it sounds like it’s treatable. We’ll know more in the coming week after more tests.

The lesson that we’ve both learned is that it’s too easy to let days, weeks, months and years slip by unnoticed — uncelebrated.

Time moves like a leaf on a slow moving river and it’s our intention to never forget this fact.