For the last month, things have been rough. In every area of life, things have been difficult. Much of what happened was beyond my control, in general was not caused by me, which made it even more frustrating. Whenever I would compose a post, it sounded really whiny and like a big woe's me pity party. And if I can't stand to hear myself think it, who's going to want to read it? And why would I put other people through that? So, I just didn't write. I don't know that life has gotten easier or better, but I think I've gained some perspective. There is one thing that's happened that I have to tell you about. It's sort of painful and funny. Well, probably more painful that funny. Anyways, last Tuesday morning Bry-D called. His voice was shaky, and it sounded like he was holding his breath. He wanted me to know he had gotten hurt and was going to Med Check, the place his boss had told him to go to, since it was a work site injury. When he tried to tell me what had happened, I didn't have it quite right, but it was close. I thought he had fallen through a hole, his entire body going down, and landing on a beam or something-on his crotch-but that wasn't quite the case. He called later, he had a "laceration" and was being sent to the ER for stitches. Now, from the time he and I hung up the first time until he called to say he was headed to the ER, I had been in and out of consciousness. I don't mean I kept fainting, I mean it was like the lights were on and sometimes someone was home, sometimes not. While I was concious, I called a few people, found someone to take the kids, and was able to meet him at the ER. I got there about five minutes after he had gotten into a room. I'm not going to give any more details. He ended up with 7 stitches, and the story of how he actually got hurt is this-
He was working(for those of you who don't know, Bry-D is a phone man)in an older warehouse, and had gone in and out of well-lit room a couple of times(the rest of the building was really dim)there was a metal cover on the floor of this well-lit room. When he was leaving the well-lit room, he was taking a step with his left foot, stepped on the cover, it flipped up, his left leg went into the hole, and his right leg stayed at ground level. To put it simply, he did the splits into a hole. The lid was in there somewhere, and that's what cut him and why he has stitches. He pulled most of the muscles in his groin. Yeah, ouch!
For the first 2-3 days, he couldn't walk, get dressed on his own, and finding a comfortable position of any type was impossible. He told me the other day, he understands why they call those "core muscles" you can't do anything without them. He's not into being drugged, so he's just been taking the maximum allowable amount of OTC painkillers. For my part, in the beginning, I was just thankful it hadn't been worse. What if he had stepped in that spot with his right foot? Or fallen backwards? Yes, I feel very blessed that it wasn't any worse, because it certainly could have been.
Now, I realise just how much I depend on him. He can't lift, well, anything, he still can't really walk, let alone move fast, so I'm on my own. It's like he's here but not. And in the mornings and evenings, when I'm used to have him around, are so hard. We normally divide and conquer, but now it's all on me, and I have to say, it's some hard work. I always admired single parents, but I have a newfound respect for them, and the fact that their children have clean clothes is amazing. He'll be getting up soon, so I'm going to get off here. The two comfortable places in the house-the bed and his computer chair. He has, for the most part, had a good additude, though I know he's frustrated that he can't hold Lex, or get his own glass of tea. I think he had always thought that having someone wait on him hand and foot would be fun, not frustrating. Hm, be careful what you wish for!