The worst of times, the best of times

(this post was started on April 2)

In four days, it will be the 6 month anniversary of this whole rollercoaster.  Thomas was sick-as-a-dog-barely-hanging-on-to-life on October 8, 2010.  Thats where this entry's title starts.

I have relived that day a million times.  Do you remember Polaroid cameras?  That's how I see it all in my mind.  And, I hear the sound affects, too... of the photos being taken and spit out of the camera.  I see mental photos of he and I arguing about going to the Dr.s office that third time, I see one of him anguishing from the pain to get in and out of the car, I remember being totally fed up with no improvment in his condition.  I was going to be heard this third time.  I see the nurses faces when they come in the room.  They started talking to us in what we call the "Prozac voice", talking to us like we are five year old kids. 

The speed picks up here, more like a digital on the sports setting.  We are at the hospital, the faces of the friends that (miraculously) arrived there to be with me, I see Thomas' face as he struggles to make sense of all that is happening to him.  It still breaks my heart.  He had that horrible look of bewilderment, confusion.  We had no idea what was being missed... what was coming.  Flash: arriving at the Med.  Flash: Hallways and closed doors, me on one side; Thomas on the other. 

Flash: my Mom arriving from Arkansas and walking down one of those awful hallways, miraculously, right to me.  (I get my sense of direction from her.... none.) :)

Flash: T rolling back into surgery.  I didn't think for a minute that I could have been talking to him for the last time.  Not a clue.  Flash. Flash. Flash.   Information, opinions, surgeries, expressionless faces. 

Those were the some of the worst of times.  There were more/others poked in here and there.  But' after about three weeks, we began to have scattered 'best of times' in there too.  Flash: The day the kids finally got to see him.  They were as wide eyed as I have ever seen them.  They were so very brave, too.  They were so mature and sensitive.  I still can't believe how well they both did through all of this.... the only way I can believe it is to know that while I waited for that first ambulance ride to start, I was already praying for their protection, and I didn't even know how much I would need it.  God was so very faithful with them.  I remember after Thomas was moved to step down ICU and I could stay with him, Reed asked me "Mom are you staying here (home) tonight or with Dad?"  I felt like he was subtley saying that he wanted me to stay home.  I asked him if that is what he wanted.  He thought for a minute before he answered (sooooooooo a trait of his Dad) and said, "I want you to be where ever you need to be, Mom."  He was nine years old.  God' grace was just oozing right out of him.  That was a 'best of time' and there were more...

People ask me if it feels like forever. People ask me if its flown.  Both and neither.  The best way I think I can describe the last 6 months is a smear.  And yet, there were indellible moments... moments that are permanent impressions on me/us like impressions in wet cement.  Some of those involve my kids, like the one above.  Some of them involve precious cards, notes, prayers, words from family and friends.  A lot involve the caregivers we had, like Dr. Croce, and our nurses. 

A lot of those moments involve his rehabilitation.  I would have to classify those as both best AND worst together.  If this seems like this is all about me, I don't mean that.  Two things, 1. I have always tried to give Thomas some level of privacy and 2. its easiest to do that if I just speak from my perspective. BUT....
Rehab.  Without question, one of the hardest to manage situaitions of my life/our lives.  When I say that, I am telling on myself.  I did not have the personal decorum, control, maturity to walk into that room at the rehabilitation clinic, filled ... overflowing even, with broken ..... severely broken people.  People whom wanted to be looked in the eye.  People who probably could see through my thin veil and know I was struggling.  It was all I could do TO look them in the eye.  I had no choice, I had to look beyond the exterior.  Is that a good thing?  Well, of course.  Is that an easy thing?  No ma'am.  Not if you are me.  They just wanted to be seen, to be heard, to be talked to, to be treated as 'normal' ... as if whatever horrible, ripping tragedy had NOT happened to them.  Thomas looked like the picture of health and normalcy compared to most of these precious saints.  Their stories would both break and bless your heart. 

The spirit of each person in that clinic was the complete opposite of their exterior... their spirits were NOT broken.   You would not believe what these people had risen above.  It was a repellant against self pity to be there.  There was NO WAY you/me/we could feel sorry for ourselves when we were there.  And that was the part that was the best.  I felt like a baby... a baby that was growing, absorbing, learning every time we were there.  I hated to go, but hated worse not to go.  I knew I needed that 'rehab' as much as Thomas' body did.   My rehab was of the heart.  Treating others as you would like to be treated is sometimes much harder than it sounds.   I've been in situations where I could tell I was 'insignificant', that no one really wanted my audience.  It doesn't feel good.  What if that was every day? What if people tried to avoid me, avoid eye contact wtih me everyday? 

Somewhere in January, Thomas started feeling better for longer periods in the day.  We had a while after his exercises, before he was too tired.  We could have lunch.  We could run an errand or two.  THIS... this was the BEST of times.  I had my best friend, 24-7.  Now, had you asked me if I would want that... oh say 7 months ago....  I mighta said, "Uhhh, sure.  For a WEEK."  But, after what had happened, after watching him fight through it all, work so, so hard to get better.  I realized, I liked having him around more than I could have ever imagined.  Now, don't get me wrong... we are waaaaay human and there were the occasional times where, just like always, we would get on each others LAST nerve, but ... big picture: It was the best of times, for sure. 

Past January, into Feburary and March he continued to work and continued to get stronger and have more stamina.  We even saw a few movies!  We found ourselves in yet another new community of people...the retired.  If you go to matinees during the week, you have to FIGHT for the handicap parking! :)  Didn't take us long to figure out we had better arrive early if we wanted that end spot, nearest the ticket counter.  We had more than a few laughs at ourselves realizing the game we made, and fully intended to win, out of this! :)

The best of times. 

The days leading up to Thomas' return to work were as emotional as the first days of his illness.  I cried and cried and cried.  My 'baby', my project, my around-the-clock partner was leaving me!  I knew it was a good thing, it was another answer to prayer.  But, I was going to MISS him!  I was going to miss him because out of all of the horribleness.... there really were the best of times. 

Today is Tuesday, April 12.  Thomas has been back at work, released from disability for one week and one day.  He is so tenacious.  He is working so hard.  He does great.  He manages the pain well, just through sheer determination... he takes nothing.  And, at the end of the day, he is totally spent.  He is exhausted but has the satisfaction of knowing he is overcoming, not impossible, but mighty big odds.  He knows from where his strength comes.  We give all the credit, all the glory to God...who loved us enough to send His only son to, not just die, but suffer and die for us.  After watching my loved one suffer, I have an even deeper appreciation for that utimate gift.  What a time to be celebrating Easter.  He is risen and ...

HIOTT. 

Thank you for caring for my family, for staying updated on our situation and for your prayers.