Just over a year ago... December of 2017 ranked in the top three worst months of my life.
Our beloved oldest child had been kicked out of the house in an effort to wake him up to his own self-destruction. If you’ve ever had to make that decision yourself, then you will understand the exhaustion and terror and searing heartache that goes with it.
My better half was in the wound/burn unit at St. Elizabeth’s again with an indescribably horrible leg wound that refused to heal despite some mega-powerful IV antibiotics. The wound care unit is a secure area where family members and visitors have to “scrub in” - meaning that you have to wash your hands vigorously with a special soap then don a mask and gown before you can enter the unit. After you’ve visited you have to remove the mask and gown and then re-wash your hands before you can leave.
My dad - my best friend - had died three months earlier from complications following a stroke. I NEEDED to talk to him, dammit, I needed him to tell me what I should do next and that it was all going to be okay and that he was proud of his baby girl for being strong. It was completely unfair that he was dead and I was pissed at God for his cruel timing.
Our brave sweet daughter was probably the strongest person in our family during this season; she stayed close to me and we sort of held each other up. She too would faithfully put on her mask and gown and we’d go visit Daddy and try to make each other laugh. She said she wanted one of those ugly yellow gowns for her prom dress.
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My sister and her kids came to visit during this time which was a wonderful slice of home, a little oasis of normal. Well, as normal as we can be, anyway. We’ve always been oddly pleased with our own weirdness... “normal” is for lemmings.
Oh yes, and I was working full time as well. I brought my laptop to the hospital with me when I couldn’t be in the office, and I kept all the balls in the air to the best of my ability. Thankfully I was also surrounded by capable individuals who kept the oars in the water even when the captain was absent or even just absent-minded.
In summary - I was a mess. My throat felt constricted most of the time and I would cry at the drop of a hat. I worried about our son constantly - Was he cold? Was he eating? Was he even alive? I was worried sick about Dave - how much more can he possibly stand? How much more can I possibly stand?
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Between Christmas and New Year’s, the inevitable decision was made to amputate Dave’s left leg below the knee. He’s already lost his right leg back in April 2017; but in both situations, the infections his body tried to fight were otherwise fatal. Surgery was scheduled for the morning of New Year’s Eve.
I talked to my friend Tammy back in Tennessee... since June of 1994, she has been my primary counsel for rational distinction between what is self-pity versus self-care. She is a tiny little person but her unwavering faith gives her an almost super human strength, especially when things feel like they’re blowing apart. She’s really generous with that strength when someone else needs to borrow it.
Upon learning of Dave’s impending surgery, she dropped everything and came to Nebraska, to sit with me during the surgery and hand me Kleenex and listen to all of my troubles... and then told me she was proud of me and that everything would be ok.
Through what can only be described as a divine series of events, Tammy helped me make arrangements for our son’s admission to one of the country’s best rehab programs. I was able to reach him, and he begrudgingly agreed to go. And on New Year’s Day of 2018, my friend Tammy literally picked up my kid and took him to Atlanta where he caught another flight to California and started a new chapter in his own story.
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And now we've just celebrated New Year's 2019. Dave is downstairs making brunch and balancing the checkbook; he has gotten comfortable with his prostheses and is getting around on his own really well. He’s had a couple of scary infections which have required additional hospitalizations in 2018...
But he's had a good long healthy stretch since November, and we’ve had a storybook Christmas.
Jamie came home for a week, clear-eyed and remarkably mature, and Grace is excited about her last semester of high school because she has several classes with her bestie.
What's new with me? Well, I mentioned earlier that I was working full time - I have since I was 22. Thirty-three years later, I can say that I’ve surprised myself and others with a long and successful career.
But you know that saying... nobody lies on their deathbed regretting that they didn’t work enough. I haven’t done a great job of keeping all the balls in the air for a while now anyway, and I think we have a tough season ahead with Dave's health.
So I have formally resigned from what I’ve considered to be the best job of my life... and now I’m taking some time to just be Mrs. Rubel. To just be Mom. To just be me, whoever the hell that is. Kind of looking forward to finding out.
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It’s been a minute since I’ve blogged. That canyon business (see previous post) has been a hard thing to climb out of and I can’t say whether I’m out yet or not. I honestly don’t know.
But it's 2019 - and by GOD I’m going to start writing every flipping day this year. It may not always be a blog post, but I am going to write something every day. EVERY DAY.
Who am I kidding? I can’t promise what I’ll do tomorrow. Let’s keep it reasonable - I will write today.
