Self Winding Watch

I have a self winding watch that only operates if worn. The kinetic energy from me keeps it going. If I take it off it will die within the day, frozen on the date it was set down on. 

I was looking at the watch on a Wednesday morning but it still said it was Sunday at 7am. My new daughter was 3 days old that Sunday and I had no reason to believe anything was wrong with her. I wanted to leave the watch there and live in Sunday forever.

This was one of those times I wanted to shut the ride of life off and not feel what was overtaking me; I was powerless and could not will this day or situation away.  

Growing up there were a lot of times I wished I could save myself from the pains of just existing. I remember the first time in the third grade  when another kid noticed I had a crush on a fellow classmate and he called it out loudly at recess in front of her and others.

Rather than deal with the accusation straight on I chose to bring out my political skills and fervently deny any such crush. I spent hours trying to write letters that night explaining to my classmate I didn’t really like her but maybe if she liked me it would be ok. I can remember all about how it felt, the embarasment, even what I heard from my dad on it… but I don’t actually remember what happened between me and my classmate. It probably was old news the next day.

Those pains came and went. I still remember some though. 

I accidentally shot out a window trying to shoot a starling when I was in the fourth grade.

I played a talent show on the wrong channel for my guitar in the 9th grade. The wrong channel was very, very loud and it was the clean channel which was very bright at that. I realized when I first strummed my guitar it was wrong but I decided the show must go on. So I just played the whole song despite everyone just sitting through it covering their ears or running out of the auditorium.

Then there was this time I really believed I could dance like I was in the club at a school dance once and people were weirded out. I don’t blame them necessarily.

My first real mechanics job I broke a windshield on the first day. 

5 minutes later

As I got older the feelings were less about embarrassment. You stop caring what people think about you when you realize how frail life is. It was calling someone’s voicemail realizing the news you heard was right and they would never pick up again, it was waiting for test results on that ulcer in your throat, it was being so upset with the mundane parts of life I couldn’t stand not feeling like I wasn’t making a difference. 

And here I was staring at this watch stuck in time on Sunday at 7am. Those once painful moments of existence come to me now and have no weight considering the gravity of our new reality.

On Sunday at 7 am our life was perfect. Our daughter Georgia was 3 days old. She was healthy, our family was delighted. 


It would be two days later we would get the call from the doctor our newborns screening came back out of range. And a few days later they would call to confirm all the blood draws they did on her showed there was no hope for a false positive. It was now talks about time and decisions wondering what really is the right thing for such a young soul.

On Sunday we didn’t know what the neurology desk marked with a blue fish at the children’s hospital meant. We didn’t know we would be battling the clock to get some new age therapy that might afford our child a life beyond the grim two years or less currently afforded us. I didn’t know this doctor with a pink doctors bag who chased us from lab to lab as she told us everything would be fine right before she took off running with our newborns blood sample to catch the shipping desk in time.

On Sunday at 7am I did not know one name of a child born before Georgia who didn’t get the same opportunity she would get. I didn’t know the families who did not let their pain go to waste when they lost their child. They fought for the screening and treatment my daughter would receive.


And as much as I don’t want to pick up that watch and turn it’s hands to the acceptance of the reality we now have, it is the only thing I can do that truly matters now. It ticks away as I pray it continues on to another day where I know she’ll be ok; as long as I keep wearing it.

www.curesma.org



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