How My Husband is Doing This Spring

Hello there.

The last detailed update about the state of my husband's chronic health problems was about two and a half months ago. There have been a few changes.

We now have another condition to add to the list: low thyroid (most likely due to taking the anti-arrhythmia medication, Amiodarone). This news actually gave us a little hope because Mark can take another medication to bring his thyroid level back up, and maybe that would help how he feels overall.

Since seeing his Endocrinologist, Mark's dosage of Levothyroxine has been upped twice. It has taken many weeks, but he is a bit less tired and bit more hungry.

One step forward....

How My Husband is Doing

I thought about titling this "How My Husband is Actually Doing" because there is the surface-y version and then there is reality.

Or his version. Because anytime someone asks Mark how he is, he will almost always, to almost everyone, say, "I'm good." While I, in the background, shake my head.

Sometimes I have to force myself to not snort at Mark's assessment of how he is. It's absurd to me that he can so easily prattle off the words, "I'm fine", without choking on them.

"How can you say that??", I'm thinking.

An Awful, Negative and Ranty Post

I'm afraid to write this and share it because of how I might be judged.

But I think I'm at a point where I don't care what anyone thinks about how I'm feeling. I don't think there's anything wrong with honesty and being real.

Oh the FEELINGS. All the FUCKING FEELINGS!

It's uncomfortable, sure, and everyone wishes the less-than-happy-and-positive feelings didn't exist.

But they do, dammit.

People feel bad sometimes.

I feel bad sometimes.

I Can't Blog....I Haz the Life

I am writing this real quick, on the fly, before I bail out of my house for a girl's night out that I'm desperately hoping I can fake my way to happy for.

You see, things have been very trying for me (and Mark) for the last few weeks, and it's all been bubbling to the surface these last few days.

there's all of THAT, along with the kids home for the summer and a very long and annoying heat wave uncharacteristic of Western Washington.

Daily Diabetic Complications

No one is supposed to actually come out and say this, but Diabetes is an insidious disease that kills you slowly over time.

Truth.

Even if you take the best care of yourself you possibly can, some complication of Diabetes will most likely lead to your demise.

I don't even want to list all the problems that can crop up because it is too long and depressing. Quite commonly, Diabetes is the leading cause of blindness and kidney disease, two terrible and permanent afflictions.

I married a man with Type 1 Diabetes and over the years have been watching it take its toll on him. It actually started its rampage in Mark before I met him. He was diagnosed at age 9 and by 25 he was legally blind, was losing kidney function and neuropathy had begun in this feet. Once his kidneys failed he was blessed to receive a kidney and pancreas transplant which commenced a six year reprieve from Diabetes (and dialysis).

No One To Talk To

I might need to go back to my therapist.

The other night Mark and I were having some issues with each other.

OK, we were arguing.

While of course I've never liked fighting with my husband, I really hate it now that he's so much sicker. It feels wrong somehow. Like, why are we fighting with each other when we have so many other things to fight?

It feels counterintuitive.

For my part (because I can't just go speaking for Mark), I am trying to balance being a loving, kind, understanding and caregiving wife to a chronically ill man with the fact that he's also still just my husband. And yeah, sometimes my husband pisses me off. Should I let him get away with saying or doing things I don't like because he's sick?

Am I supposed to just roll over and let him hurt me because he could die?

Why I'm Really Looking Forward to Christmas This Year

In short, we've had one HELLUVA year.

I'm not usually one to begin thinking about gifts and decorations much before Thanksgiving (out of respect for the Day of Thanks), but this year is different.

I am eager and excited for the Holidays.

I am so ready to make merry.

My husband's health has been steadily worsening, most notably, over the past four years, since he had to undergo heart bypass surgery. A year and a half later, his heart went into Ventricular Tachycardia, a dangerous type of arrhythmia. We thought he might not make it through that, but he did, albeit weaker than before.

Mark struggled, but actually did pretty well for quite awhile after that crisis. Until this year. Literally all year long he has been fighting some battle or battles with his body. It is to the point now, that he has been on a leave of absence from work since the end of June and he hasn't been driving since mid-September.

He's not going to be returning to work, and we're thisclose to selling his car.

I am very overwhelmed as I type this all out....

Hold on.

9 Quotes to Help with Grieving

Ever since the tragic event that occurred in my town last Friday,

I haven't been able to give a darn about anything I would normally blog about.

Between that and the grief and sadness I've already been feeling from

all the changes in my husband....plus all of the family losses my BFF has experienced this year....

I thought I'd share some helpful, inspiring, VALIDATING

quotes about grief and loss. To help myself, and maybe you too if you need it.

There Has Been a School Shooting in My Town

On Friday morning, October 24, 2014, at 10:39 AM, freshman Jaylen Fryberg brought a gun to Marysville-Pilchuck High School, invited five of his friends to have lunch with him, walked into the cafeteria and shot all five, two of whom are his cousins. He then shot himself.

source

I was 3.9 miles away, welcoming my husband home from dialysis and doing a little housework.

A few minutes later the local news app I use pushed a breaking news notification to my phone. I very often don't even pay much attention to them. I did tap this one and read a headline about a possible school shooting here in Marysville.

"Oh God, no", I muttered.

And immediately went into GET-ALL-THE-INFORMATION mode.

I was holding out hope that the word "possible" would turn out to mean that that's NOT what happened.

Alas, it was true.

Grieving for the Man He Used to Be

My husband is not the same man he used to be. Every health setback he suffers shoves this fact in my face.

It's been on my mind a lot lately.

After a good friend died seven years ago I participated in a grief counseling group with mutual friends of hers. I learned a lot from it.

One of the biggest things I learned, that I didn't already know, is that loss comes in many forms. Death isn't the only way we experience loss.

Mark is alive, but we are most definitely grieving the loss of the healthier man he used to be.

And all the changes.

I'm Having a Hard Time

This is going to be a completely selfish and self-serving post.

I haven't let on much to anyone, but I am having a really hard time lately.

Because my husband is having a really hard time.

The cumulative effect of all he's been through this year is weighing on us heavy right now.

No, there hasn't been any one BIG thing. It's been a bunch of small-ish (compared to, say, being in the ICU with a tube down his throat being told he was going to die) things.

You guys -- you lovely people who read my words here -- know this. You know this year has been all kinds of up and down (and upside down)for my family.

At this time, Mark feels like it's all just down.

He is so frustrated. Downright angry sometimes.

The View From Here: On Being a Jewish Mother

This week's View is very timely considering some of the awful events dominating the news this month.

It's along similar lines as Keesha Beckford's post, "Dear White Mom", published on

Bonbon Break, and further illustrates how much we parents -- no matter what we look like

or what religion we are or where in the world we live -- just want the best for our children.

The piece below was written by Gailyc of The Madness of Joy.

__________

On Being a Jewish Mother

I worry about the sensitive soul we are raising, the little boy who is scared of bugs and wants them gone, but who cries if I kill them. My heart is in my stomach most mornings as I scan the headlines. I am horrified by the recent election results in several European countries illustrating just how much of a political uptick in anti-Semitism there seems to be.  The violence in the Middle East, the anti-Semitism that feels more visible daily, rattles me.

How One Little Novel Ties Into Just About Everything in my Life

Last Sunday I had one of those headaches that wouldn't go away no matter what I did. After doing a few chores in the morning I decided to take it easy the rest of the day.

It was the perfect opportunity to download and listen to The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. My friend Jess read it last year and had been looking forward to the movie ever since. When she told me about it, I immediately said I have to be her movie date and I would try to get it read beforehand. I prefer to read a book before seeing its movie if I can.

A Tough Question....and Doctor Who

One night last week my daughter asked the question Mark and I have been waiting on pins and needles for one of the kids to ask.

What will we do if Daddy dies?

Then I watched "The Angels Take Manhattan" episode of Doctor Who.

And balled my eyes out.

When Camryn asked the question, the four of us were getting settled on the couch to watch Agents of SHEILD, just like we've been doing every Tuesday night this fall. Well, except the previous Tuesday, when Mark was in the hospital being treated for his heart attack.

AJ decided we shouldn't watch it without him.

Fast forward a week and here is this question hanging in the air.

Mark and I were sitting at either end of the couch, with the kids in the middle. Cami was near me, AJ near Mark. The show was paused and the two of us glanced at each other, then I turned to our daughter.

"What exactly do you mean, 'what will we do'?". I wanted to gauge where she was coming from.

The last thing we would say is "don't be silly, that's not gonna happen!", because it might. We're not going to lie to our children. We don't want to scare them needlessly either. We have to tread very carefully here.

At first Cami mentioned money and paying our bills and getting groceries and stuff like that. Mark asked AJ if he ever thinks about him dying. AJ shrugged and said no. Then Mark made a little joke about being reduced to administrative tasks like running errands.

Those logistical things are sometimes all we have any control over, so I could understand why Cami was thinking about them.

But I told her that is the stuff I would take care of, that I would figure out for us. I told her all she should be thinking about is that she would be sad and miss Daddy.

That's when AJ burst into tears, prompting the rest of us to get choked up too. When AJ cries like that, over something SAD, it just kills us.

Mark wrapped his arm around him and then AJ said, "I don't want you to die!"

And little pieces of our hearts broke.

We held it together, though. Mark said he doesn't want to leave us and would try not to let that happen, but that if it does happen, he would still be with us in spirit. Always.

I agreed, telling the kids that I was one hundred percent certain their dad would always be watching over them, just because I know he doesn't want to miss anything. I also told them that we would stick close together and be there for each other, and I would do my very best to help them be OK.

I asked if there was anything more they wanted to talk about right then (although I don't think AJ ever wanted to talk about it), they said no, we had some hugs, and resumed our show. We proceeded to have a typical bedtime.

Mark and I didn't talk about it any further that night either. Maybe because I went to watch some Doctor Who in our bedroom after the kids were in bed because I'm trying to get caught up.

Little did I know the next episode I needed to watch was the most emotional one, like, EVER.

I had purposely made myself NOT cry while having this heavy discussion with the kids. So when The Doctor had to say goodbye to Amy and Rory -- and I was alone in my room -- it all came out.

I knew I was crying over more than just a TV show. That's kind of the beauty of shows and movies that tug at you emotionally. They give you permission to FEEL. To let it out, and hopefully, let it go.

Then, just like the conversation with the kids, I quickly started the next episode of Doctor Who, because I know it goes on without Amy and Rory and I needed to see how.

Therapy Shmerapy

That would have been my response just one short year ago to the suggestion that perhaps I should seek professional help because I have some tough shit to deal with.

"Oh, therapy shmerapy! I don't need no stinking therapy! I'm fiiiiine!"

Uh hu.

There is this stigma attached to asking for help. To admitting when you need help.

There is also our own pride to contend with.

I never thought I was a particularly prideful person. I have bad eyes, so I have had to get quite used to asking for help from those around me. Sometimes I can't read something. Sometimes I need a ride somewhere....

But if I'm being perfectly honest, it's still hard at times for me to admit when I can't see something.

Am I more prideful than I thought because I didn't want to see a counselor (and asking for help because of my eyes is still hard)?

Or does it have to do with vulnerability?

When I make it known that I'm struggling to see something, I open myself up to questions, and possibly even judgment.

Getting therapy could encompass so much more. My past, present, future. My flippin' inner child.

I'll admit, the stubborn side of me did indeed feel like I should just be able to handle my life issues all on my own. That I should just be strong enough.

Finally, last year around this time, I decided to give it a try.

I AM SO GLAD I DID. Dragging my stubborn ass to therapy is one of the best things I've ever done for myself.

You know the joke that goes something like a patient has spilled their guts about something and the therapist asks, "And how do you feel about that?" and the patient is like *facepalm, "Aren't you supposed to tell me what YOU think about that?"

It's kind of true. Therapists don't have all the answers. What they have is an ability to be on the outside looking in at your life. They know just the right questions to ask you in order for you to find the perspective you need to process whatever it is you're dealing with. They get the human condition and they help you understand YOURSELF and others better. All of this contributes to a healthier heart, mind and spirit.

That may sound kind of froo-froo but, whatever. How it sounds doesn't matter. What matters is that I cannot believe the different place I am in now than one year ago. I know myself better. I am more confident.

Confidence? Me?? I have struggled with insecurities as long as I can remember. To be able to say that so much of that crap has fallen away is huge. HUGE.

Having a better sense of who I am, with more confidence, effects how I feel about the tough stuff my husband and I have to deal with as regards his chronic health problems, which is why I sought out a counselor to begin with. I'm not sure exactly how, but it does. I just feel it.

I have seen the light. Anyone who would like to say, 'I told you so", can feel free. :-)

He Struggles Too

This is my blog, named after me. This is where I write about life from my perspective.

My feelings, thoughts, revelations and struggles.

Also the light-hearted, fun, whimsical stuff.

But the meat of of it all is the REAL, somewhat intense stuff I share. That I NEED to express lest it bore a hole into my soul.

I talk about my husband Mark a lot. That is because he is chronically ill and everything that entails is difficult and unique, and talking about what we go through is therapeutic for me, and might help others.

What I have either failed to see for so long, or been in denial about, is that Mark has his own set of struggles. His own angst, fears, worries and trauma.

Mark is a man, so it can be very hard to see it. Men are not known for wearing their hearts on their sleeves. They are not known for being able to express themselves and their emotions.

Males are taught to suck it up, to be tough, not to cry, to hold it together. For as much as many women say they want a "sensitive" man, I've found that it can actually be disconcerting when a man cries. If we're really honest, we want them to be the tough ones, the rocks.

Mark has always been a "trooper". Positive and upbeat, a believer in "this too shall pass" and "they haven't found a way to kill me yet". He makes ER visits somehow fun. Despite his many health problems, Mark has always been able to make light, to find the funny, live in the moment and focus on the good.

There comes a point, however, when even a man can't "just hold it together" anymore, when he needs to express some shit too.

Since last March when Mark experienced arrhythmia and we thought he might be dying, the two of us have had some very frank and HARD talks. Talks during which I try to shut up about my own feelings a little bit, instead trying to draw him out. He really tries not to let me, but I stay quiet because I know he'll fill the silence. He often thinks what's bothering him is some inconsequential thing, but it turns out to really boil down to his health and mortality. Every fucking thing comes back to that!

Mark doubts that he is enough man because his body gives him such a hard time. He thinks he should be doing something more for the kids. He worries he's a burden. He wonders if it's worth it and he wonders about the afterlife. He wants to know what it's like after we die because he's scared.

I sit and listen to these things, my heart breaking. I reassure him that WE LOVE HIM WITH ALL OUR HEARTS, the kids are fine, he does enough and that I feel pretty certain he doesn't need to worry about what will happen to him after he dies.

It's all the truth. I think it helps some. But I don't really know. If these things needle at him even half as much as my crap needles at me....

All I can go on is what I see and feel. It comes and goes. Mostly comes. I think about some aspect of all of this every single day. I'm sure Mark does too.

It's hard. It sucks. It sucks hard.

Life itself doesn't suck and that is what we both cling to. We continue to make light, to find the funny, live in the moment and focus on the good. We laugh at each other and giggle with our kids. Shitty thoughts come and we will them away.

I implore Mark to not let the bad stuff win. We can't let it win.

Beginning Therapy

I've held out long enough. Been stubborn stoic long enough.

It's time to admit that I need professional help.

I guess.

__________

Do I have to?

::balls up fists and stomps foot::

I should be strong enough to handle my life, dammit! I'm not the only person in the world with problems. I'm not the only one carrying a heavy load.

I deal. I cope. I cry and laugh. I find the good and positive amidst the crap.

I get a little bit stronger with each passing crisis.

Or do I?

__________

Maybe I get stronger with each crisis, but they break me a little too. Like one step forward, two steps back.....

I have diagnosed myself with PTSD and anxiety. I don't know anyone who would disagree with those presumptions. I have flashbacks to the nights Mark's heart stopped, and my breathing catches and tears sting my eyes. What is minor to someone else is difficult for me because my emotions are  constantly raw and at the surface.

I think, time will heal. It does some, but not entirely. The nerves and fear are still there.

I'm strong yet sensitive. Courageous yet afraid. Positive yet cynical. I am a walking contradiction.

The contradictions are hard to reconcile.

It's time for me to accept some help figuring all this out. As much as my friends and family love me and blogging is free therapy, neither holds the understanding I long for.

I'm not sure why I find this so hard to do. I have pushed and pushed the idea of therapy away for a  long time. I do know I worry it will only serve to muddy the waters more.

But it's my children, although they don't know it, who are inspiring me to give in. If and when we lose their dad, I will need all the help I can get to be everything they need me to be.

__________

Tomorrow.

Not like Scarlett O'Hara's "I'll think about that tomorrow", although I admit I have done plenty of that.

No. I will begin seeing a therapist first thing tomorrow morning.

Soaking Up the Good

The working title of this post was "Trying to Soak Up the Good".

Because when I first thought to write it a few weeks ago, I was still merely trying.

I'm glad I was slow to get back to it, because after awhile, I realized that I AM soaking it up.

I really am.

This is huge.

I'm not feeling guarded or cynical these days.

I can't say I never think about the tough stuff anymore. My worries will always be there. My concern for my husband's health continues to nag at me.

But I am fully living in the now....the calm of Mark being stable, summer, my kids, gardening, walking, taking pictures, friends and family....not even thinking too much about September.

Right here. Right now.

I feel like my inner thoughts and desires were heard and answered, allowing me to slowly find peace.

Peace in the face of some scary shit. Peace with what was, is and will be.

It's been a process to get to this place. But being here feels great! I feel stronger and more confident.

I feared I could get stuck in that cynical and angry phase. Instead I feel more open. I'm astonished at what the difficulties in my life have shown me*.

No matter what life throws at me, at us, I know at the core of my being that everything will work out for the best. I know this because I have faith in the bigger picture.

"This too shall pass."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"Every dark cloud has a silver lining."

These are not merely trite pearls of wisdom. There is Truth in them.

Things can suck. Things can suck hard. Things can feel like the sky is falling and you want to hide under a rock.

Shit happens, and it will happen some more.

But today, things are good. I'm content and satisfied, feeling positive and grateful.

It sure feels good.

*Now let's hope I didn't just jinx myself!

I poured my heart out and am hanging at yeah write.

Question Me (Did You Know?): About the Tough Stuff

Welcome to the fourth and final installment of my answers to the questions you asked me for my blogoversary! Phew. That was a big sentence.

This one is doubling as my Did You Know? post for June. Cool? Cool.

Did you know I saved the tough/deep questions for last? Well I did.

::

1. Do you ever wish you hadn't married a diabetic?

Whoever asked this question has balls! Because you could easily offend with a question like this. I, however, am not offended. On the contrary, I think it's a very valid query, all things considered. And I can't say I've never thought about it.

What I wish is that Mark wasn't a diabetic. I never for one minute wish I hadn't married him.

Yes, Mark came with health problems, it's hard and I could lose him. But that's all just....but not just....like, what's on the outside, or a piece, of it. I wrote in My Husband is Enough that Mark is not defined by his poor health, that it's a part of who he is, not the whole of who he is.

Mark is an insulin dependent Type 1 Diabetic on dialysis with heart problems. But he's also a good husband and father, a cooking, music loving, motorcycle riding, gun toting, sarcastic, loyal, faithful man with a great sense of humor and positive attitude. I would be missing all that if all I could see was his Diabetes.

I was meant to love him and marry him. However it turns out.

YouTube video

2. What has been the absolute worst thing about your sight issues?

Two things, I think. The first is not driving. I gave up the great public transportation in the Bay Area when we decided to move to Washington and I do feel it. Most especially where my kids are concerned. I hate it so much when they have to miss out on something because I can't drive them and it falls at a time when their dad can't do it either. They are good kids who seem to understand and don't get too upset about it. But I still feel bad.

The other thing is when I look like a bumbling idiot. I was a little embarrassed when I met Danielle at motherhood: TRUTH because I kept bumping into her and Jessica, and couldn't see a thing in the restaurant (goddamn ambient lighting!). I couldn't see where to put my water and I groped Jessica's hand because I thought she was holding something. At one point I said, "I swear I'm not usually this blind!"

Also, I wonder if fast food employees think I'm illiterate when I ask about something that's probably clearly written on the overhead menu THAT I CAN'T SEE. I have such a hard time asking even those I'm with to read something for me. It makes me feel stupid and I hate it. This is where the grey area that is my vision is difficult. If I were totally blind it wouldn't be an issue. But because no one knows what I can and can't see, it gets confusing. Of course I prefer the vision I have to the alternative, though.

3. You have talked very candidly about the things you are facing in your life. Many of us out here find you inspiring. Do you think of yourself as inspiring/strong or are you "just doing what you do"?

If sharing the ups and downs in my life is inspiring in some way, I would love to own that. What one person finds to be inspiring another may not, so perhaps it depends on the reader? I am just doing what I do too. This is my life; these are the cards I was dealt. I either live it or shoot myself. Right? Doesn't mean I enjoy the hard stuff. But I can't change it. All I can do is take each day as it comes, put on my big girl panties, not sweat the small stuff, express myself and let the love flow. If what I put out there is inspiring, that makes me really happy.

Am I strong? Yeah, I think so. For the most part. Mark and my children have made me strong. I also have some great friends and family. I'm not living my life in a vacuum. I am so lucky to have some other strong people who are there for me.

I may be able to draw on some inner strength, but I still cry. I cry hard. I get frustrated, irritable, and I get down. I have bad days. I ask why, like a lot. The thing about that is, I listen for the answer. I believe an angel whispers an answer in my ear every once in awhile. Being open to the unknown helps. That sounds like it might not make sense. But it does to me.

4. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Hahahahaha! Oh, thanks for the laugh! I have no freaking clue!

But seriously, my mother recently gave me a book called The Gift Giver. It's a memoir written by a woman (named Jennifer) who lost her husband suddenly (named Mark), and the conversations she says she had with her husband from the great beyond.

At first I was all, really mom, you want me to read a book about a woman losing her husband and they have the same names as us, right now, shortly after almost losing my own husband, amid the continuing fear of if/when that will happen?

Yeah.

But I was intrigued by the message my mom hoped I'd get from the book. And although it was a difficult read, I did get it.

There are two passages from that pertain to the question I'm trying to answer here. The author writes that her dead husband told her:

"Life is meant to be lived in each moment. You need to live in the moment--not in the past, not in the supposed, lost future."
and
"The only thing that you need to do is see, smell, touch, taste, listen, and feel your feelings. That's all. Do those things and you will live an extraordinary life. It's that simple."

After reading the first quote, I realized that Mark (mine) knows how to do that. He's always known how to be in the moment. Here's an existential thought for you: it's probably because his soul knows he isn't meant to live a long life.

I was somewhat astonished to read the second quote because that is what I have always felt to be true about life. That everything else is much less important than the seeing, smelling, touching, tasting.... Actually, this reminds me very much of the movie City of Angels, which I have written about here, long before I ever read this book. This is all very deep and profound to me.

So what I'm saying is, my husband has taught me to live in the now. As much as my brain will let me. I have had to learn to do what feels right in the moment. I have had to accept that planning for the future may be pointless.

All I can know for sure about five years from now is that I will be 43 years old (the age Mark is now) and I will still be a mom. Beyond that, as I've been saying and will keep saying, I am open without expectation.

Danielle and I host this blog hop the first Tuesday of every month.

Play along with us!

Fine

Source: Uploaded by user via Jennifer on Pinterest

I have issues.

I'm a mess.

And I don't know why.

Well, I'm not totally stupid. I basically know why. But, I don't completely know why.

For about a week now I've felt so....just....umm....

I've been quiet unless I needed to speak, not smiling much. I feel so....

What?

What am I feeling?

I'm pretty sure it has to do with all the ups and downs in my life. There are so many it's practically dizzying.

I mean, how does one deal with her husband being fine one day, to nearly dying, to (seemingly) fine again? But not. Especially when it's not even the first time.

How?

How does that happen??

And how am I supposed to feel about it?

The other day, we were talking about the possibility of refinancing our house and Mark says, "Lower payments will be good for you down the road."

And then he realized what he was saying, and said, "Or....us."

God.

He says a lot of things like that, and not only to me. He's been trying to work up the gumption to make videos for the kids in which he talks to them about things, giving his fatherly advice. You know, for when he's not here.

The topic of Mark's possible impending departure from this world has been at the forefront of our minds since March 1st.

And the need to get his blood pressure checked out at the ER sends me running to sob in the shower. Every. Little. Thing. Is scary now, and the what-ifs bombard my mind.

Yet he is still very much with us.

He came home from the ER and insisted we go out for the day.

Anytime he steps foot into a hospital, I expect him to be admitted.

It is really hard to juggle this stuff!

Imagine my arms stretched out, the good on one side, the bad on the other, playing tug of war.

I am always focusing on the positive, remembering that he's "not dead yet". Mark is here and we are together, loving each other and our kids, trying to make the most of what we've got. I am an Attitude Ninja!

You know how one can be great in a crisis, but break down after the dust has settled? That's me. So I think that's partly where I'm at. But also, the constant worry of losing Mark right at the surface, all the time.

It's just....hard.

::

My daughter is wrapping up 6th grade with a big "Who Am I?" project. She has to write several poems and stories for it. She gave me permission to share the following:

Prompt: My greatest sadness


The Time When My Dad Was In The Hospital


My dad was in the hospital in the beginning of March. It was very, very devastating. He stayed in the hospital for almost 2 weeks. Almost the whole family came to Marysville. It was so sad for everyone there. But one day my dad woke up crying that he wants my mom, my brother, and me. So my grandpa took us to the hospital to see my dad. I was happy to see my dad was getting a little bit better. But one day he got worse, so bad he wasn't able to talk, or pick up his hands. All he could do was nod or shake his head yes or no. But then he got better after like 2 or 3 days, and was able to talk, but it was like a mumble when he talked. So then one day he was able to sit up and stand up and was fully understandable. And in 3 days he CAME HOME! And I was happy that he was home. But also scared, because I was afraid that it might happen to him again. But it hasn't, so I'm not as worried now.


Linking up with Shell's Pour Your Heart Out and hanging at Yeah Write.