Perhaps this entry should be in my 'Chronic Pain and Me' blog, but since it involves so much more, I'm putting it here.
On Friday, we had an incredibly close call. My husband, Wolf, pulled into a McDs to take advantage of the 'free small coffee' deal currently happening. (Americans, don't feel jealous, its McDs way of attempting to compete with the annual Roll Up promo at Timmies). Getting back into the van, he discovered that one of his rear wheels was locked up solid.
Turned out that his rear brake had literally exploded.
Wolf takes the highway straight to work. If he hadn't pulled in for coffee exactly when he did, the locked up wheel would have sent him directly into oncoming traffic.
$700 later, the van is back on the road...and I still tremble when I think how close we came to tragedy.
Then I checked my email on Saturday. I've been offline for a bit, dealing with pain and depression.
Clearing my email, I discovered that a friend I've known since she was nearing the end of her pregnancy with her first dd, and I was finishing my first trimester with Tazzie had lost her 1 yo baby girl this past week.
She'd put her down for a nap, and found her dead when she went to wake her.
Her husband has been able to make it home from Afghanistan, and the funeral is tomorrow.
My heart breaks for her. I've wept so many times since finding out, reading her posts in the group we're in together.
Yes, that's right. She's an 'online' friend...but as real a friend as someone I'd go for coffee with.
I can't imagine her pain. I hurt for her, her eldest dd, her husband...but nowhere the reality of the Hell they're going through, that I know.
And right now, for me, the litany of, 'Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.' is racing through my mind as I count down the minutes to Wolf getting home. The arm is flared all the heck up to the point where even typing this solely with my good hand is still reverberating through my arm, making me grit my teeth and bathing my body in the cold, greasy sweat that accompanies pain flare ups.
The weather is stunningly gorgeous. I haven't bumped myself, or any of the other 'known' issues that would cause a flare.
Good old fashioned emotional stress perhaps. PMS perhaps. Or perhaps nothing at all, just having RSD.
I feel tears brimming, and I couldn't tell you who they're for. My friend, mourning her baby, or just physical pain.
RSD even robs me of that. When I want most to be praying for my friend and her family, focusing on offering whatever support I can on THEM, RSD takes me down, making me self centred, driving me into a ball of pain.
So, I'm asking readers of my blog to please do what I can't right now. Please pray for J, her dh M, and their dd E. I don't use my name on my blog, so I won't post theirs...I've no doubt God will know who the prayers are for. Pray for their strength as they say goodbye to baby M, for love, healing for them...whatever, anything that you are moved to do.
Please.
Ever feel under attack? Like someone or someTHING has you in its sights, and is throwing emotional crap at you, one after another, until you feel like you're going to snap under its weight? And its done so insidiously, that nobody else around you really knows whats going on, just that you're completely snarly and unable to please, and you get angry over things that are probably completely ridiculous, but your anger stays, and so does feeling justified for it?
Yeah. I'm having one of THOSE days.
Its started out, as it often does, with a lack of sleep. The last few days my sleep has been terribly broken, with incredibly vivid dreams. I had dreams that Wolf and I were arguing in bed, and then when I dragged myself to consciousness, discovered I hadn't even rolled over. And not just once. THREE times in the same freakin night. Like I got back to sleep just to have it repeated.
Then last night, I had a dream...and in it, my heart was beating so incredibly hard, it was like I could see my pulse in my hands, arms. When I woke up, my chest ached. I wonder if my heart was beating really hard (for whatever reason) and it became part of my dream, or if my dream became part of my reality.
I woke up at 5 am, with Tazzie awake at 5:01 am. Wolf showed up for coffee two hours later. I felt like I was going to fall over, so went back to bed...and COULDN'T SLEEP. Talk about insanity.
Insanity: Feeling like you're going to fall over, throw up, or both due to lack of sleep, and then not being able to sleep. And that's WITH melatonin to help things along.
So, I got up again. Talked to Wolf about potentially Christmas shopping today. He huffed a bit, reminding me he had a maybe hockey game to play this afternoon. I finally said that I wouldn't go shopping, and he tells me that's for the best, it would be insane crowd-wise, and Tues during the day would be better for less people...then he follows it up with saying that my not shopping meant HE could go out and get a hockey stick this am!! And then he wonders why I'm ticked off at him. Seriously.
I go back to bed, and as I'm trying to drift off, one more thing hits me.
Wolf and I lost our first child together, due to an ectopic pregnancy. Found out before Valentine's that we were expecting, moved up our wedding date, and by the end of Feb, there was no longer a little heartbeat, and I had stitches in my bellybutton (laproscopic surgery).
For a long time, I hated my body. It had rebelled against me, and cost me our child. I grieved for the loss of my little one.
Time went on as it always does, and healer-thief that it is, the pain went away. Two healthy babies and almost seven years later, and I'm ashamed to admit that I don't think of my lost one much at all anymore.
Then, this am, it came roaring back at me. That Tazzie would have, should have an older sibling, Diva a younger closer to her age. That that unknown, gender unknown child would have turned seven in September.
People have pointed out, and realistically so, that if we'd had that child, Princess wouldn't be with us. That kind of logic, as honest and real as it is, enrages me. Like it was a trade off, that the child we lost wasn't as valuable, that missing my unknown is somehow devaluing the love I have for my Princess. Its not an either/or thing in my heart.
Part of the mourning is the loneliness of it. Wolf just didn't understand at the time. He understands more now, having had Tazzie and Princess, but its not a wound for him in the same way. For him, it has always been a matter of fact situation. The ectopic was caught on a fluke, and almost cost me my life. He almost lost his to-be wife. It was a medical condition to him.
So that hit me today. And I've been crying on and off since, quietly, where nobody sees or hears.
I know that I should be counting my blessings, and I do, I do. But sometimes, things lost need their moment to be honoured too.
Like I said, I feel under attack right now, and the attacker knows the right places to hit...of course.
If you are reading this, say a prayer for me, k? I need them to get through today.
Fair warning...this isn't a humourous blog, so you may want to keep on to the next blog on your list.
I was messing about on google yesterday, googling myself, family...and just for shits and giggles, put in an ex's name.
It came up with his obit.
To say I was shocked is an understatment. Reading that he had died of cancer was even more shocking.
I walked away from my computer, and sat quietly in my dark livingroom, and closed my eyes, remembering.
I adored Brett. Totally, completely, and utterly. The moment we met was like a lightening bolt, on both of our sides. Total shock, total wow, total everything. Ever see a scene in a movie where everyone else fades away except for the man and woman? Yeah, it was one of those.
I won't get into all the nitty gritty details. We broke up at one point, and ended up getting back together, with plans to elope. We missed our time at City Hall by 20 minutes, which is the only reason that we didn't get married that day. We broke up again shortly after, but Brett had a way of turning up again and again.
He wasn't a bad man. He was, however, a manic depressive, who refused to be treated. It made a relationship with him impossible. I never knew if he would show up, when, where...to say trust was an issue is an understatment. When we were together, we were SOOOOOOO together. He made me feel loved and adored in a way I'd never known, like I'd hung the moon and the stars, and everything in between. But when he left...it was like I ceased to exist for him. I couldn't handle that, couldn't handle never knowing what came next.
Up until I met Wolf, I truly believed in my heart of hearts that Brett was The One. A friend of mine describes it as a 'soul tie' and that's exactly right. And I'll admit, in a secret part of my heart that nobody knows but me, part of me has always wondered what if, what might have been, and wished that things had been so different. Even with the pain and heart break, I've never for a moment regretted what we had together.
I close my eyes, and see that grin of his. That slow, sexy, confident grin with the dash of mischief, and I smile to myself, as the tears well up.
Good bye, Brett. I'm glad to have loved and been loved by you, even for a time. As we had often said, "Maybe in the next life..." but I sure as hell didn't expect you to go there so soon.
Good bye, Brett.
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