I was just settling in to a fairly easy month. Since I have just a few medical appointments, I can spend the majority of my time navel gazing. No, really, I’m watching my outie become an innie, remember? I’m also doing the stuff that I didn’t have much time or energy to do last month. You know, the usual stuff. I’ve even hoped I might hear from a client or two since I’m a little bored.
Yesterday morning, I had coffee with a lovely friend, and ran a few errands. A typical excursion. But something was awry when I got home: I could not open the damaged front door, a light was on, and the floor was a mess. Yes, someone had broken in. Because I wasn’t sure if the bad guy was still there, I called 9-1-1 and went over to the neighbour’s house to cry while I waited. My greatest concern was Jelly, whom I’d left in her crate when I departed.
The very nice policeman managed my initial hysteria well and then ensured that the bad guy was gone. And, despite whatever she had witnessed, Jelly was resting comfortably in her crate. In fact, she was excited to have police company and didn’t seem nearly as scarred as I was by the intrusion.
Turns out the bad guy wasn’t a smart guy. He took our very old iPad but left our much more expensive and useful computer, which was in plain view. He showed a clear preference for scotch over gin, while missing the expensive wine J. leaves downstairs. He messed up the house a bit and, with no respect for our electricity bill, left lights on. If that were all, we’d be laughing.
But we’re not. Sadly, he threw both of our jewelry boxes into one of our pillowcases, and with those boxes he took many items of great sentimental value. Thankfully, J. was wearing a favourite pair of earrings that day, but she neglected to put on her mother’s beautiful engagement ring, or the beautiful star sapphire ring her mother had given her for her graduation. (Keep your eyes peeled to Kijiji, would you?) He took jewelry we have bought for one another or received as gifts, and, with that jewelry, many precious memories of our vacations. Maybe this blow hit a bit harder because we’ve been unable to travel for so long now.
Fingerprints were taken, fresh footprints in the snow photographed, and the insurance company was called. Jelly was the only witness, but her work with a composite artist was completely unsuccessful. (She wouldn’t stop licking the artist’s face.) Later in the day, a very nice fellow secured a 2 x 4 across our door frame so no one could enter until the door was fixed. And today another kind fellow came over to start fixing the damage. Completing a list for the insurance company of all we have lost has been wearying, as has visiting nearby pawn shops to check out their wares.
Since I’ve been diagnosed with leukemia, I’ve believed, naively it seems, that nothing else bad should happen to us. We’ve had more than our share, haven’t we? What if I had posted a note on the front door: “Cancer lives here. Go bug someone else.” Do you think we’d have been spared? No, I don’t think so either.
It may take me a few posts to deal with this one, so I ask you to bear with me as I move through my negativity and self-pity. When I’m dealing with a tough issue, sometimes one session with my therapists–thanks guys–just isn’t enough.