What if…?
When I grew up, there were lots of ‘What if?’ questions in my house. My sister and I were curious kids, and we were actively encouraged to find things out. We’d have to consult a book due to the great Google not existing back then. I used a library. I loved that it was full of so many books and so much information. How times change; I haven’t set foot in one for years. When my kids ask me questions these days, instead of suggesting that they look things up in books, I immediately tell them to do what they do best and ‘search it up’ online.
I also remember that a lot of those ‘What if?’ questions originated from my Mum. They were generally related to the things that she was worried about on any given day:
What if it rains?
What if the shops are shut?
What is the traffic is really bad?
What if it is really busy?
Then there is the classic, the ‘What if?’ question to end all ‘What if?’ questions that my Mum used to ask all the time.
‘What if we can’t find a parking space?’
This ‘What if?’ was then always followed up with this statement made with complete conviction by my Mum:
“We’ll never find a parking space. It’s a waste of time”.
For many years, Dad very patiently indulged Mum’s insistence upon a negative outcome. He really didn’t mind if it was really busy, if it did rain, if the traffic was awful or if the shops had shut before he got there. But it was the ‘What if we can’t find a parking space?’ question that finally drove him over the edge.
At some point during my teens, Mum uttered those words one too many times. It would have been around Christmas (always more stressful than usual) and a Saturday (always the worst day of the week for present shopping). I suspect that the ‘What if we can’t find a parking space?’ question had come at the end of a long stream of declarations that nothing would go to plan/go right/the problems wouldn’t be solved/the presents wouldn’t get bought/she didn’t know why she was trying.
I remember Dad turning round and holding his head in his hands and yelling ‘For goodness sake, if you tell me one more time that we will never find a parking space, it will be the last time I ever take you shopping!’
This is now a family story, regaled at length, normally after we have all had too much to drink. I was reminded of it for completely unrelated reasons this week.
The kids had gone back to school after the holidays and within four days had caught Covid. I went to wake my son up on Sunday morning and found that he couldn’t get out of bed. To begin with, I thought this was due to an unwillingness to leave his comfortable, warm pit and play rugby. Within five hours, his temperature was raging and he was throwing up. Yet again, I felt like the bad mother for not believing her children. The Covid test pinged positive immediately and my carefully constructed plans for the week crashed down around me.
Inevitably, we all got it. Within four days of my son’s positive test, I couldn’t get up. Worryingly, my whole head and face burnt and I was in agony. I lost count of the painkillers I took and gradually came to realise that this couldn’t be right. After three days and no improvement (and beginning to lose the feeling in the left side of my face) it was time to get help.
Now you’d think that, feeling the way I did and being a relatively intelligent woman, I wouldn’t worry about ringing a doctor. But no. It took me at least four attempts to hang on the line and wait to talk to someone. Why? Well:
‘What if no one answered?’
‘What if they told me it was just Covid and they couldn’t do anything?’
‘What if they said I shouldn’t have called?’
‘What if I were told that there was nothing wrong with me?’
Oh yes, the ‘What if?’ questions started, and they came thick and fast. The voice in my head had gone berserk, over-thinking everything one minute and assuming the worst the next. In the end, torn between telling myself to stop being so ridiculous and convinced I was about to die, I held on the line until it was answered.
Despite all my anxiety and being certain it was a waste of time, I spoke to a doctor. They needed to see me. This caused further panic. I was home alone. This meant I would have to drive. I had to go to the hospital and I’d never been to the building the clinic was in. I didn’t know where to park the car. What if I couldn’t find a parking space?
I forced myself to stop thinking about it and got in the car. The voice in my head was telling me that this was going to be impossible. It was also telling me to stop this as the pain was so bad nothing could really get much worse.
It did. When I arrived, there was no parking. It was hell. People were driving around, waiting for spaces, parking on verges and abandoning their cars wherever they could. With no idea what to do, I carried on through the grounds, searching for the clinic and asking out loud for someone to help me find a parking space. I even bargained with God (if there is such a thing) about how I promised to be a really good person if they would just help me put the car somewhere safe.
In doing this, I managed to find the right building; at least then I knew where I needed to be. But time was ticking on and I was afraid of being late. What if they then wouldn’t see me? I turned into the obviously full car park and told myself to just drive in, look around and then leave if nothing. I was going to do this. There were no spaces. I didn’t know what to do. I slowly did my five point turn in a very small area and went to make my way out.
And then I saw it. There was a parking space. I don’t know where it came from. It just opened up in front of me. It hadn’t been there and then suddenly it was. I stopped the car and just stared at it. It felt like I was in a dream. I looked for signs to say I couldn’t park there. There weren’t any. I drove into the space and stopped the car. I looked around me and waited for someone to jump out and tell me I couldn’t park there. No one came. I checked to make sure I was within the lines. I was. So, I went to pay for the cark park ticket.
There was a person in front of me trying to work the ticket machine. She couldn’t do it and told me that there was a problem with it. I pressed some buttons put my money in and a ticket came out. It all worked perfectly.
I saw the doctor, who confirmed that I had a number of infections, probably brought on by the Covid. They could give me antibiotics for it all. In a week, I would be better. So, no dying that day either.
I will remember this day forever. The day a parking space appeared to me when I needed it most. I hope that the next time I ask myself ‘What if’ or that the voice in my head says that the outcome will definitely be a negative one, I remember that it doesn’t have to be. It might well not be. There really are always parking spaces out there and you can always find one.
Leave a Reply