Saturday, January 3, 2015

Update on Tim

Tim is still in his sling. His shoulder was far more damaged than expected. He has been in his sling since the 3rd of December, and he has at least two more weeks to go.

We all joke about the time that Tim had the flu for 20 minutes several years back. He simply never gets sick. We had all succumbed one by one to a terrible flu and Tim kept saying, "It can't possibly be THAT bad." Not the sort of thing one wants to hear when they are in the midst of a two day bug that keeps you close to a bathroom for one reason or the other, or both simultaneously. (Sorry for the visuals, but this was some bad stuff...)

Anyways, after over a week of one person or another being sickened, there came the great and glorious day that we all once again sat down to have supper together. Granted, there were some pale faces among us, and none of us ate heartily. Suddenly Tim pushed his chair back from the table, and said, "Gees. I don't feel so great..."

I would like to say that we were sympathetic, but we all muttered, "NOW he'll see..." He staggered over to the sofa, flopped down, fell soundly asleep. After 20 minutes, he suddenly popped up. We dove out of the way, knowing what was coming.

Instead Tim said, "Man. I don't know what that was, but it was awful." And then he got up to go work on a car down at the garage. We all sat in shocked silence. Dylan finally said, "If he ever dies, we need to donate his body to science. His immune system is a super power."

That's Tim. I can count the times that he's been sick, really sick, during our sixteen years of marriage on one finger. And now this.

He had great plans. He knew that the doctors were being over dramatic. Two days after surgery, he had some reno work planned. I cautioned him that he might feel quite differently about it after he actually HAD surgery, but he pooh-poohed me.

He had the surgery, and it took nearly three hours. Thank goodness for a new friend Helmuth who kept up his end of a fascinating conversation. I was grateful for his presence. When Tim finally was done with surgery, he was fretful and ready to go home almost as soon as he woke up.

He didn't like that he couldn't feel his arm at all. He didn't like that several hours after surgery, he could still not feel that arm. I tried to convince him to take the painkillers as prescribed. We had both been warned about letting the pain get ahead of the painkiller, to take them as prescribed to prevent the pain from getting out of hand. But no...I am married to Tim. He was fretful, and he wanted Pizza Hut Pizza, and he was not happy about that arm being numb, and he wasn't taking painkillers that he didn't need.

And this is how we wound up in the ER at 2 AM. Tim's IV 'pain cocktail' knocked him for a loop, and this time he was ever so grateful for the numbness. I trundled him back home to bed at 5 AM.

That experience was an eye opener for him. He has been following the doctor's orders to the very letter, and I have heard no more about reno work. He has been taking it easy, and has not take that sling off except for short showers.

He is healing well. At least two more weeks in a sling before they can ever begin physical therapy. Only then will we know whether the surgery was successful or not.

Just kidding around...

We spent Christmas at Dylan and Brittani's house. It was perfect. William got quite a charge out of their dog Maggie, as you can see in the video.

Dylan loves nothing more than a good joke. He said, "I think that boy needs a dog, Tim." He said it a couple times for effect. He knows that Tim is not a fan of dogs in the house, which is why we don't have one, although Maggie is always welcome to come for a visit. Anyhow, Dylan laughed and laughed at his little joke.

Until we all shot back with this: "Maggie needs a little boy, Dylan." We said it a couple times for effect. We know that Dylan is not quite 'there' yet, although his nephew is always welcome to come for a visit. And we all laughed and laughed at our little joke.

There was no more discussions of dogs OR little boys.

Friday, January 2, 2015

Gone Girl

There are so many stories of this season. I will tell them to you one at a time.

She looked across the room at me with a strange expression. Suddenly she said, "Mom, I want you to have my car."

It was a little like being sucker punched. Amazed I said, "Why?" Since she had gone overseas, it had set in Dylan's garage, waiting for her to come home.

"Because," she began to explain. "I'm not coming back at the end of the year, unless they make us shut down the university and I have to."

"Because," she explained, "you and Tim gave the car to me as a gift and so you should be the ones to get it back."

"Because," she explained, "it's just taking up space in Dylan's garage and that is not fair to either one of them."

What popped into my mind was that she was getting rid of her worldly possessions. I knew that was stupid, but it's what it felt like.

I said, "I don't WANT your car," and her response was, "You and Tim need it."

She came home for two days. In those two days, she cleared all traces of herself from her room. She said, "I want William to have my bedroom furniture." Her loft bed is heavy duty, and the matching desk and dresser and bookshelf are in perfect condition.

One by one, the ties to this place are loosened and she is free to walk in this world. What remains here are boxes of things in the attic.

'Cara's room' is now 'William's room'. 'Cara's car' is now 'mom's car'. She freely gave of her things. Her DVD player showed up in our bedroom. She gave things to her sister.

Sunday she leaves again, headed back to Afghanistan. I drove her car home from work in the dark last night, and I listened to the CD that she left behind. The band is 'A Great Big World', and snippets of lyrics catch my ear.

If only New York wasn't so far away
I promise the city won't get in our way
When you're scared and alone,
Just know that I'm already home


Another year you made a promise
Another chance to turn it all around
And do not save this for tomorrow
Embrace the past and you can live for now


Shorty don't wait in line
Short don't wait til' the sun don't shine
Shorty don't wait in line
Shorty don't wait until your life goes by

I listen to the lyrics, all of them. Words catch my ear, and feel like valuable clues, or maybe secret messages to me. I drive in the dark, and I find myself missing her so much that it actually hurts.

But she is doing great things, and I am proud of her. In her, I see what I used to be. Where did that go? When did it stop?

I have her little car and I will drive it around my world, and it is a connection to my girl who travels in a much larger world.