Working Overtime

My mind has been working overtime alot lately. I think it's because of reading all of the Clinic Notes Dr Q gave me the other day. I read each and every one of those notes. Sat down with an espresso and dug in.

Re-living everything. Remembering certain smells, people, feelings that day, what I was wearing, remembering I had to drop my husband off at home and get back to work where everyone would ask, "Well, how did it go?" How the hell do you think it went, I say to myself now. He's going to die, that's what I would think.

I think back to last August when I gave my resignation at work. I gave them 30 days notice. Needed time to find the right person to replace me. How some of the clients called me personally once they found out. Some sent cards of Sympathy, some called and cried with me over the phone. When they hired my replacement, a great gal, on her first day she asked, "Why are you leaving this great place?" I said, "Well, my husband is terminally ill and I have to care for him". She sucked in her breath and said, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I'll never complain about my husband again". No, honey, don't, you never know what's around the corner.

I watched a silly show the other night. A couple were getting married. When the vow part came up, something startled me. Ever think about your vows? "In sickness and in health, til Death do you part". Not one of us ever thinks about it, at least I didn't. You are looking at your partner with goo goo eyes, thinking, "yeah", no one ever thinks about the "in sickness and in health, til death do you part". Until, like me, you are actually living it.

My husband took his first real fall Friday night. His legs do not work anymore. His brain has been destroyed in his motor control area. Ever try to stand up when your foot has gone to sleep? No control, right? His toes curl in when he tries to walk. Well, the right big toe curled in, and he went face first onto the floor. I heard a funny noise, came into the living room from the kitchen, looked down the hallway, and, there he was, lying face down. My heart stopped for a moment. Ran to him, he was trying to get up, I was trying to help him, thinking the whole time, "Call 911, call 911". Once I got him up, he was dazed. He may have had a small seizure for all I know. All he could say over and over was, "I fell, I fell". Reminded me of when the kids were little and they would fall and run to me saying, "I felled, I felled". Awful.

I read alot of Blogs. Most are so entertaining, but there are a select few that make me want to comment. I don't, but often think of commenting on how trivial they sound. Like, "How do other Moms' do it with 2 kids?", or, "I would love to get out of the house and just do some "Me" time", or, "my husband has been working so much and has not helped me with anything". First of all, I did it with 7 (yes, that's right, 7) kids, I never got any "me" time, my husband was one of the hardest working men I ever knew and not once did I complain that he wasn't there to help me. There are days when I would trade places with any one of them. How I would love to have their life and their issues.

Instead, every morning when he wakes up and tries to walk to come to me, I see a crippling, hobbling, destroyed husband who can't think, can't walk, can't remember what day it is, can't write his own name, can't remember if he showered the night before, can't remember his son didn't spend the night with his friend, can't remember what he did yesterday, can't remember anything anymore and I think, "In Sickness and in Health, til Death do you Part".