Dragging It Out

I had a rotten day yesterday. It was one of those days that I couldn't even stand myself. My kids were so sweet. As I laid comatose on the couch they occasionally came over and gave me a kiss and asked if I was alright. I felt loved in the pit of my self-created misery.

Today was better.

Thank God!

But I'm not myself yet. And I feel guilty for still feeling fragile and teary. (And I really like beginning sentences with conjunctions even though I totally know it's against the rules.)

A dear friend inquired after my husband today. I told her he's doing much better; improving everyday. She then asked how I was. I said, "Now that he's getting better, I'm a wreck."

"But weren't you a wreck last week?" She asked...stated??

Well, yes, yes, I was.

But (there's one of those conjunctions) it's a different wreck. At first it was the "I'm so tired I can't see straight wreck," followed by the "Oh, my goodness, he's still in the hospital ,and I'm even more tired wreck," followed by the "Now, we're home, and school is starting wreck," followed even more closely and lasting way too long with the "He has an infection, and will it get better, and will the doctor stop hurting him" empathy pain wreckedness.

I'm in the almost-healed wreck phase of "Oh, my goodness, I could have lost him, and now I can relax a little and let out all those feelings I've been shoving deep down." I know my friends are quite shocked that I was actually holding anything back, but apparently I feel the need to wallow in this situation for a while.

I sure am looking forward to the days when I'm back to worrying about if the kids did their homework or studied for their tests.

Trying to See the Positive

Feeling normal and like myself is only a temporary relief so far. Some days are good, some not so good, some should be good and I just want to cry. My worries, real and highly overly imagined, get to me. Then when I think of what could have been, but didn't happen...Well, I just can't let myself think about that. I'm still on this roller coaster of recovery where every sigh, grimace, and uncomfortable shift leads to more worrying.

It would be a lot easier to whine if my husband would start whining himself. The most he does is sigh really deeply. Occasionally he'll grab his side. Maybe if he was whining I would know it was just the normal everyday stuff you whine about. Instead he is stoic, strong, resolute. But I know him.

He has an incision that isn't healing that the doctor likes to poke and stir, and he refuses to whine. How am I ever going to feel justified in whining about a paper cut again?

I'm pretty sure I'll find a way. In fact, as I re-read this it occurred to me that I'm whining about him not whining. Mercy me!

So while I'd like to rant and rave about all the little things that irritate me and that I do not like this roller coaster of emotions I am on, not one little bit, I think I'll try a little positive thinking.


1. I like our walks. I'm actually starting to feel really good from them. Even though we don't have much to say I enjoy the time together.


2. I like that when he's not feeling so good he just wants me to come sit in the same room with him. If he had a cold or something this would irritate me, but I know that he doesn't feel good. Somehow my presence comforts him...if I don't ask too many questions.


3. Having Hon home this much has given him the opportunity to approach a few difficult conversations with our 13 year old. Conversations that would have ended in an argument if I'd had them. Somehow Hon and Fred have found a common language with out all the mama drama. I am sooo grateful for that!


4. I'm thankful that all our friends brought us brownies after brownies. I really like brownies. Brownies will definitely help you through a difficult time. I knew that Hon was on the road to recovery one night when he asked for a brownie. After one bite he said, "You know what would make this even better?"

"Another brownie and some vanilla ice cream." :)

Rambling Like Usual

We are starting to feel a little normal around here again. I am approaching my usual level of craziness and feel like myself.

Welcome back me!

You know how you always hear about those strong, women who hold up so well in crisis. They remain spirit filled, graceful, and composed.

All illusions of being a little bit like those women went out the window during the last few weeks.

I think I've handled many things reasonably well in the past 5 years. But this little escapade jerked my feet right out from under me. I don't ever care to go through something like this again. And in the back of my mind, I know we've been so lucky. Hon feels stronger and better each day. This will not drag out for years. We're not searching for a cure. But it has been scary, terrifying, frustrating, and painful.

YUCK!

I stinks to watch the one you love go through pain, and know there will be more necessary pain on the road to wellness.

Hon's surgeon, who we're getting to know all too well, commented that you know it's love when the healthy spouse hurts as much as the one having the procedure. I hurt for Hon, but we can agree that what he's going through hurts much more than my empathy.

All that yuckiness aside, I am feeling like me again. The numbness is fading, my tears are subsiding, and gratefulness and a feeling of God's presence is returning. What I realized this morning is that you can't start to process an event in your life until you're past it. Sometimes as God carries you through you can trust in his love for you and know He hears your prayers even if don't know you're praying.

Adding Skills to My Resume One Chuckle at A Time

There have been many stinky moments figuritively, realistically, and all the -ly's inbetween in the last 2 1/2 weeks. However, that makes our funny moments all that more enjoyable and laughable. Granted, we laugh at some inappropriate times at this point because laughing feels better than crying sometimes.

This morning I have entertained myself greatly.

I decided it was time to edge the yard. The boys were mowing and certainly I could handle edging with a weed eater.

Certainly...in an alternative universe maybe.

It only took me about 5 minutes to get the weed eater started. I was pleased things had started on a high note. I then proceeded to "edge" along the driveway. That is if your definition of "edge" means to throw dirt, grass, and weeds onto our roof while digging a trench. I definititely was getting the hang of "edging."

As I created yet another curlicue swirl in my husband's grass I looked up to him standing in our front doorway.

He did not look as impressed as I felt.

He was not laughing with glee like I was.

"I don't know what the h*$$ I'm doing," I called out.

He agreed with me there.

So I got a quick tutorial in edging. I'm pretty sure I didn't follow the instructions. I'm also pretty sure I won't be giving up this life of leisure I'm living to become a professional landscaper. In fact, I'm pretty sure Hon's going to feel up to edging sooner than he should.

At least I find myself funny.

Numbness

As I was preparing to write the whiniest, pity party of a post of my life, God just gave me a good chuckle.

My son The Dude is very reserved. To get dressed he keeps his door locked and his towel wrapped around his waist while he puts on his shirt and pulls up his underwear. He cries out in agony when he walks in on his mom, me, getting dressed.

His grandma just went into his room to wake him up wrapped only in a towel. He either raced for his bathroom to escape the terror or dove deeper under the covers never to emerge again. Hee-hee-hee.

So where does that leave my whiny post?

I wanted to cry and have a little pity party about how although I know we've been covered in God's love and care for the past week, our full lives actually, that I feel numb. I'm having trouble hearing God or even praying the way I usually do. My prayers are still desperate cries for help. Just the words, "Help!", or "Please!" and once , "You better fix this God!.......Please?"

I'm in a place I don't understand and I worry about how long I'll be here and the flood that might come when I'm not.

I know with more rest things will look better. We have so much to be thankful. But there is still the numbness. And the only emotions that get through are punchy laughter or tears.

A dear, spectacular banana bread toting woman stopped by yesterday while I was trying to nap. When I asked Hon who it was he replied, "You know that girl we talk to at church."

Funny enough that actually narrowed it down. I asked how her visit went and Hon said,
"She said something...I cried..I'm an emotional wreck."

All we could do was laugh.

Writing this nonsense actually helps.

Hon thought he had food poisoning last Monday night. When he couldn't stand up Tuesday morning, we knew we were headed to the Emergency Room. It turns out his appendix ruptured, and he spent 6 days in the hospital. We have been surrounded by the love and care of our dear friends and family. It was an exhausting week. It gets a little better each day. I pray his recovery is filled with love between us. My love and sympathy goes out to those who suffer so much more than our mere week in the hospital.