The Summer of 1990

The summer of 1990 got off to a great start with a brief trip to Northern California to visit extended family. Uncle Derek and Auntie Dorothy were visiting from England and were there with us. We had a memorable trip to Whiskey Town Lake where the boys played with 2nd cousins and we sailed in Uncle John's sailboat, we had jet ski rides and Mike and Uncle Derek swam across the lake to an island (they seriously did) and then back.

Back at home we purchased a family pass for the local swimming pool, the kids played with friends, we had bbq's, dutch oven cookouts, family gatherings... life was good. Nothing seemed to be to out of the ordinary while we were living in the moment, but by the end of the summer as I looked back, I could recognize the symptoms that had slowly appeared as the summer months advanced.

For example, one day while enjoying an afternoon at the pool, Ashleigh suddenly threw up on the deck. She wasn't sick; there was absolutely no explanation why she did that. She also had a few uncharacteristic moments of bad temper. I remember one evening in particular, Mike had to drive to Logan for a late night "store set" and wanted me to go with him for the ride. Andy had become a reliable baby-sitter, so we knew we could put Ashleigh to bed and the boys would be fine. But she knew we were leaving and she had a tantrum of sorts. We couldn't figure it out... it wasn't like her at all. But perhaps the biggest thing that caught our attention happened in August, when one day her left eye began to turn inward.

I was immediately concerned, you see... I have worn glasses since before my second birthday. I had experienced the "four-eyes" and the "big-eyes" name calling throughout my elementary school years and this was not on my agenda for my daughter. We scheduled an appointment with the eye doctor for Monday, August 13.

Mike and I took Ashleigh to the eye Doctor that day, and upon examination the Doctor determined that she would need glasses. I was sitting in the chair and Ashleigh was sitting on my lap throughout the exam. When he made the diagnosis I immediately felt the emotion rising to the surface, and I knew that I needed to get out of there... fast. But it wasn't fast enough. I was humiliated and ashamed that I hadn't been able to hold back the tears. As we drove home I asked Mike to take me to my mother's, I knew that my mom would understand exactly how I felt, after all, she had experienced the same thing with me.

I remember walking up the stairs to my moms living room and into her arms, where I sobbed out my sorrow that Ashleigh was going to have to wear glasses. Of course my mom talked me through it with a smile and a positive outlook, but it was what she said as I left that left a profound impact on me... she hugged me tight and spoke softly into my ear, "I'm just grateful that it's not something worse."

Three days later... it was much, much worse.