A Moment of Truth

Yesterday was a stark reminder of how quickly our lives can change, suddenly and unexpectedly. And how easily we let our relationships slip into non-chalance, taking for granted that our loved ones will always be there. I should know better than most that this is not the case but find myself vulnerable to this human condition as much as anyone else. While enjoying a leisurely webcam visit with our daughter and grandchildren, my husband, who has been fighting off a horrible respiratory infection for the past several weeks, began a coughing fit that took his breath away. He rose from his chair at the kitchen table to move out of the webcam's field as he gasped for air. He did not get far, only a couple of steps, before he was suddenly falling face first to the floor. It happened so fast that I wasn't sure if he had tripped or fainted. I leapt from my seat to his side, shaking him and calling his name, to no avail. He was face down on the floor, glasses askew on his face, blood splattered across the tile and dripping from his nose. He was unresponsive and not breathing. I glanced back at the webcam to see the wide-eyed expressions of helplessness on the faces of my daughter and granddaughter as they watched the scene unfold from thousands of miles away. I shook my husband's shoulders again to no avail. I needed to roll him onto his back to assess him, fearing the worst, expecting to be doing CPR. As I grasped his shoulder to turn him he drew in a gasping breath and slowly came around. He was dazed, trying to understand why he was on the floor bleeding. I quickly told my daughter we would call back, not wanting to frighten my granddaughter any more than she had already been, and disconnected the webcall. Then I was back at my husband's side, assessing then easing him slowly from the floor to his recliner so I could elevate his feet and tend to his injuries. He had lacerations across the arch of his eyebrow and the bridge of his nose from his eyeglasses and blood was dripping profusely from his nose. I checked his pulse, his pupils, and asked him a few questions to determine his neural status. He was becoming more alert and he was breathing normally. He refused to go to the ER so I cleaned his wounds and iced the ever-growing goose egg on his forehead. The lacerations were not deep so I agreed to let him just rest for a while. I suspected that he had had a vasovagal episode caused by the coughing, but I would have felt better if he were assessed by a physician and perhaps a CT scan of his head and chest. He promised to go to the doctor again first thing on Monday morning. In the meantime, I will worry every time he coughs. I gave him a Mucinex, Advil and a tall glass of water, the remote to the tv and strict orders to stay put for a while. He wanted to finish mowing the lawn but I hid the keys to the rider so he could not. I called my daughter back to reassure her that he was okay, knowing that she would be stewing with worry from across the wide expanse of ocean between us. Then my other daughter called from Chicago, alerted by her sister in London of the situation.

After everything settled down, I found myself trembling with the fear that I had kept at bay while getting the situation under control. I was overwhelmed with the thought that I could have lost my husband right then and there with no warning, no chance to say those things we tend to expect they know and take for granted. Though I tell my husband every single day that I love him, I don't always make him feel my love the way I should. I used to do little things, like a love note tucked into his shirt pocket or hidden under the receiver of his office phone that he would find unexpectedly when I was at work, a small note of encouragement when he would travel for an important meeting or presentation, a funny card to lift his spirits. I used to make breakfast every weekend morning as a way to thank him for cooking our dinners during the week. Lately, we have been so busy that I have lapsed into letting him have cereal to avoid the extra dishes and time spent before I could start my day's chores and projects. I know he enjoys a leisurely breakfast but I was too busy to indulge him. So this morning he got his breakfast.

My husband is a wonderful man, easy-going and fun, a friend to all. He finds it natural to pick up a conversation with total strangers and has a way of making everyone feel at ease. He is a wonderful father to our children and adores our grandchildren. He makes them feel his love every time he talks to them or sees them. He loves them with all his heart and they know it. He is a father figure to many others who don't have the support of family. He is generous to a fault, and loves to share his enthusiasm for music with anyone with the slightest inclination to listen. He does not exclude from his life people who are different. Rich or poor, intelligent or mentally challenged, straight or gay, black or white, all are worthy of his respect. He is more like his own father, his hero, than he will ever realize. He is a truly good man. He is my lover and best friend, my confidante and counselor, my sounding board when I am frustrated, my soother when I am out of control. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry, he makes me face my own self-destructive emotions and reaches out his hand to pull me back from the brink of guilt and depression, he encourages my creative obsessions, and gently guides me toward truth. I know he loves me. I fear that he may not know truly how much I love him. I do. With all my heart, all my soul, and all my flesh, I do. We are so interconnected after all these years and all our heartache and joy that for a moment yesterday I thought that if he died I too would die, unable to disconnect from his love. So I will renew my effort to not only tell him how much I love him, but to show him, so I know that when he looks into my eyes he will see and feel that love. To our dying days and beyond he will always be my true love.

Just Said No

I thought I would try to write daily for NaBloPoMo but I have failed. I simply don't have time and so I had to Just Say No to NaBloPoMo. I will try instead to post something weekly.

A Tisket A Tasket

A tisket, a tasket

A red and white blind basket

With zero cost

Nothing's lost

I'm getting better at it.

#3

Crimson and Cream

There's nothing like getting up before the crack of dawn to prepare for a day of tailgating and football in Bloomington with my daughter and friends. Go IU!

Just a Moment

Our young people who havc taken it upon themselves to serve in our military deserve our respect and prayers more than ever today. The shooting in Fort Hood yesterday hits hard because it seems to be such a senseless act of violence. Let us all take a moment today to really think about what these men and women and their families sacrifice every day and offer up our prayers and thoughts for all of them.

Just Say No

Four weeks ago I started a healthier eating plan. I didn't want to call it a diet because I am not restricting myself from any particular food with the exception of Big Red. I just want to get and stay healthier and I am giving myself a year to lose the excess weight I have put on over the past three years. So though I may have a small piece of chocolate (one Dove milk chocolate piece is only 44 calories) or a coffee with Baileys in the evening (not sure of the calories in that and don't really care to know) I feel much more in control of myself. Knowing that I can allow myself a small portion of anything has made this lifestyle change much easier. So today I was pleasantly surprised when I weighed in at the office on those dreadful doctor's scales that don't lie. I have lost nine pounds since starting this plan. I am hopeful that I will be able to make it through the holidays because I know I can allow myself small portions of those foods I love to eat at this time of year. I think this will make me less apt to binge eat. So I am saying No to diets and Yes to the basic food groups and Yes to a small bit of something savory to treat myself every day. I am hopeful that I will be fit enough to run the mini-marathon in April 2011.

Trash Talk

I made another basket with those plastic mini-blind strips. This one is a bit more pleasing. I think I will add a handle and embellish it with red so I can use it for tailgating at the IU game on Saturday. It's the perfect size for a couple of bottles of wine, some cheese and crackers, a tablecloth, and a few other items. It's plastic so it can be washed in the sink afterward. And since it was free to make with the scrap blinds it's a win-win. It's nicer than a plastic bag to carry my items and I get to practice my newly discovered enjoyment of the craft. Who knew?