I was lying on top of the patch of ground that wouldn’t grow any flowers. Even though it was snowing, you could see where I tried to dig a hole with my bare hands.
I remembered going down the steps from my car, but I couldn’t remember what else happened, especially why I would be trying to dig a hole under the tree in winter.
Jim took me off to our new Doctor in Delta on the south side of the Fraser River. He recommended bed rest for at least three days. No strain, no stress, no Christmas hassle, just sleep. Sweet release!
The kids helped but they still needed direction and I couldn’t hear from upstairs so I brought my quilt and pillow and settled myself and became ‘queen bee’ on the living room couch. Everything was still heading towards a wonderful Christmas.
The Big Day dawned bright and early; the girls managed to stay in bed until 7:00 a.m. in deference to my illness. Then it was time to open the presents and make the festive breakfast.
That was the end of bed rest; I got up and made buttermilk waffles, our special Christmas treat. Jim even made the coffee. The kids laughing and teasing set the breakfast table. The wonderful smell of Christmas coffee seeped into my nostrils as I sat at the kitchen table savouring a steaming cup of coffee when I happened to glance out the kitchen window.
There was a man digging under the apple tree. I got up and went out to the porch and called to him, he didn’t listen, he just kept digging.
The kids found me outside under the apple tree, again!
Trying to dig a hole with my bare hands.
Again!
Without a word Jim took me inside and put me to bed. Our Christmas was over. He gave me a sleeping pill that was left over from when I carried our youngest and didn’t sleep for weeks at a time. When I finally woke the next day I didn’t remember a thing, not even when they told me where they found me.
Now I was scared. I must be going crazy!
Jim and I talked and talked. We didn’t know what to do.