i cried at the soho apple store


you know, you chug along putting days, weeks, years behind you.  and working at finally putting all sorts of new things in front of you.  and then your buried self comes and embarrassingly bitch-slaps you in public. 

 i am considered a 5 and a 1/2 year survivor now.   and you’d think that 5 1/2 years later, i could handle 2 different friends being diagnosed with 2 different kinds of cancer.  handle the truly genuine wanting to put warm arms around each to say ‘you’ll be ok’ or i hope you’ll be ok’ or ‘i’m ok with you being mad at not being ok. ‘  and i do have things to share and am willing to share.  and being able to share and support and comfort and inspire to ask the right questions or understand how to refocus and laser in on their coming battle – these are all things i have now to offer.  because i have been there.  at the beginning of the road.  and it wasn’t pretty.

then today i had my annual gyn appointment in soho.  i love my gyn.  she found the lump that was waiting for anyone to discover it.  she’s something special.  and i know that her wife is going through post-treatment also – and i am honored that at my appointment, she talks to me and we discuss the journey that her family is taking – in many ways a much more complicated journey than mine – and i love to be able to be the one to listen for her and to her.  her wife and i share an oncologist and a surgeon.  so listen i do and i try to indicate in my supportive but honest words the marker posts of a future well-past the time they are at now – the now where you’re still seeing your awful chemo just over your shoulder and pains and aches from surgeries whose scars have, quite literally, not faded yet.  of being in the middle of a spouse hurting and aching and stalling out at life moving forward while children need attention and life has just become a day to day lesson in how to get through til we fall asleep tonite. hugs and smiles end my appointment and i go to spend a bit of time in a ny wander..one of my favorite things.  i think…i’ll go to the apple store because my itouch battery doesn’t hold much of a charge anymore and see what there is to see.

my name is called by one of the perky young techs and a woman runs a diagnostic on my itouch and tells me my battery is fine but my software is kaflooey and not in sync somehow which is mucking up my battery retention and she’d like to reset the unit.  huh?  ok.  it’s busy.  i’m distracted.  i wait.  my itouch comes back and it’s………….reset.  literally.  wiped clean of all of my games, photos, and apps.  she shows me how to sign on to my apps account and i download a few of the games.  and i realize that in reloading the games, my battery has once again plunged.  so this wasn’t the solution.  another tech is called and while i wait for the 2nd tech, i open a game and realize …it’s gone.  the scores are gone.  all gone. 

tech2 walks up to me and i look up at his relatively-sweet 25-years-or-so face and promptly burst into tears.  “they’re gone.  …she didn’t tell me she’d be wiping out all the game scores.  they’re gone”, i stammer with tears running down my face.  “your GAME scores”?  he looks utterly confused.  i stutter:  “almost 6 years of game scores …from when i waited through chemo and surgeries and scans and now they’re gone.”  i really wonder if the words chemo, surgeries and scans had ever, until that moment, been uttered in this palace of the future.  my sweet tech2 had a look that translated into ‘what does this have to do with computers’ on his face.  and i realized that something very very deep down inside had reached up through the comforting and the coaching and the moving forward and bitch-slapped me – just, i think, to let me know that it could.


3 Responses to i cried at the soho apple store

  1. Ruth says:

    oh, sweetie … I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s always there, waiting. But if I know you — you’ve got a pretty good bitch slap to use back. I somehow wish you had used it on the Apple techies, though ….

  2. janice says:

    Hey, I’ll give you your scores: You’re 100% a good friend, 100% healthy and 100% ballsy to do what you are doing Ms.Levant!!

  3. You are to be commended for your proud display of humanity. Well done!

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