I remember the days when writing was my crutch, my life support, and my way to make it through the day. The words would pour out of my fingers and it was absolutely healing. I really needed it in those days. Soon days turned to weeks, then to months and now that has turned to years, where things have grown easier and life has changed. I don’t feel that constant need to turn to writing out the words as my therapy.
When we had Cora we agreed to just pause life and breathe for a while. No huge projects, no life alternating plans, just stop and soak in it all for a bit. We have certainly done that. Sure, we have had new parent moments and loss of sleep but all in all, our kid is pretty kick ass. Our marriage is pretty amazing. I fall in love with my husband and our life journey more each day. I don’t have a lot to complain about.
Cue romantic music, doves flying over us, as we sing kumbayah, in a circle, holding hands. I KNOW. Gross.
Well, we all know when we get comfortable in life, God will throw you some curve balls. We have had some over the past couple years (Currently dealing with a few) but man, I will always go back to THIS WAS NOTHING LIKE THAT DIVORCE TIME IN MY LIFE. Yes, everything gets measured to that moment and if I survived that, I can survive anything. It gives you an appreciation for what you have. Or maybe part of it is age. Either way…perspective.
Several months ago my husband had some health stuff happen. He spoke with his doctor, ran a few tests and came to the conclusion that it seemed to be a fluke situation. We aren’t ones to get over dramatic so we left it at that. Then last week the “episodes” happened again and at a larger intensity that actually caused him to have a seizure. I won’t go into the details because they don’t matter. Back to the doctor he went, who is doing a bit of head scratching and listing out possibilities that range from something we can handle to are you fucking kidding me. I’m pretty sure those are medical terms.
Blood tests, EKG, and yesterday was the CT scan. All came back normal, so those are crossed off the list and specialists are being lined up. Normal means good but at the same time we want an answer, as much as we are fearing it. It feels like fighting infertility all over again in a way.
At the moment, we are keeping this to ourselves and trying to not let it get to us. Yet, there it is hovering over us at the dinner table, more emphasis is behind every I love you, it sits in the back of my mind at work and it hangs in the air when we talk on our lunch break. Honestly, just unsure of how to truly feel and scared of what could be lurking around the corner.
My husband canceled some side jobs, moved some others around. He decided to lower his weekend work loads until we get this all sorted, whether it is something minor or something much larger.
It is strange, I’m the one with the bad heart problems. We tackle those, we adjust life to that and we plan on me falling over dead randomly. We don’t so much plan for my husband to do that. Him fall out of a tree, slice off a finger? Sure! Health problems to alter our world? Nope.
Which brings me back here. To the little spot that helps me sort my thoughts and my words, in that calming way I have come to count on. The place where I have dedicated many hours and logged my life with all the good, bad ugly and beautiful. We shall now see where it takes us next.
