down this road we walk...


Sometimes... life is simply hard.

I feel like Hubs and I have been riding a roller coaster that is out of control.  It doesn't stop, it keeps accelerating up those steep hills, and just when it feels like we can catch our breath, celebrate a victory or two for just a minute...

The bottom falls out and swoosh we are plummeting free fall down into the next valley.   And it feels like a sharper drop each time.

Barely a month ago, it felt like we were literally on top of the world.  Dancing on the mountain tops surrounded by a blanket of stars.  Hubs was feeling better, it seemed like the shot in his back might really be working. Great things were happening for me at work. Years of hard work, dedication and persistence had finally started to pay off.  Hubs was back at work.  And even though the air conditioner was having a personality meltdown and we were so busy we didn't have time to fix it, mother nature was being gentle and kind to us. My knee was feeling stronger.

So many victories, so much to rejoice in.

Then last couple of weeks in May started feeling like a slippery slope.

The updraft had started. Little by little I could feel it, you know that feeling on a roller coaster, the little wheels pulling you slowly to the drop. That jerky, heart stopping feeling?

click, click, click....

Three days after Hub's second shot, hoping to get the pain back under control, we get the first call...

click...

All of the doctors at the pain management center no longer work there.  He won't be seen again for maybe a month or so...

click...

I can't help but notice he's limping more than ever and he seems to be in more pain that before the surgery, several times he's been stuck in bed. His pretty blue eyes rimmed with red and glassy from pain...

click...

We schedule an appointment with another orthopedic specialist, my comfort level with the previous one gone at this point. It doesn't go as either of us had hoped or suspected.  In fact I can now describe that moment when all of the air is vacuumed out of a room and out of your lungs.

That numbing moment... do this or you will die.

ccccllliiiiccckkk....

And down we rush again.  Holding on to one another, praying, crying and each of us dealing with all of it the best we know how.  With as much strength as possible.  Trying to find the strength for the other. Just like in the Gift of the Maji, both of us struggling to find the piece that will make the other whole.  While facing the fear of the upcoming journey, knowing what it means for both of us.

I wimped out first.  I'd been trying to take vacation all week.  Trying to find that spot where I could catch my breath, there has been so much, I needed time to stop, to breath.  Long before the shock of Wednesday...

I feel guilty.  He's having to hold on to each and every day of vacation and sick leave for what is ahead, he can't have a day to decompress, his journey is greater than mine.

I selfishly took today.  There are appointments waiting, there are decisions needing made, there is so much that I need to process. Personally, emotionally and professionally, there are so many struggles right now.

I almost lost my mind yesterday.  Someone spent too much of my time telling me that I didn't/couldn't understand their struggles.

That I didn't know what it felt like to have too much month at the end of the paycheck - seriously?  Who doesn't know that feeling.  Even the wealthy sometimes feel that one.

That I couldn't understand that even though they didn't have enough food on the table, I couldn't possibly be serious when I suggested giving up bar hopping and darts.  Didn't I understand that all work and no play made people unhappy? Said by someone working only part time hours and the spouse not working at all.

That I couldn't comprehend the devastation of having my car totaled and being stuck riding a bus... "what about insurance?" I stupidly asked... "what?  Why would I waste money on that?" was the answer... 'nuf said.

That I didn't understand what it felt like to live with pain? Me?  Really?  I asked if the pain was curable.  The answer yes... "but I am not going to do it."  Think about that for a minute.  Mine isn't. I don't ask anyone else to carry that burden for me.  Hubs is desperately trying to recover and I am trying so hard to help him and that is what you are going to say to me?

And finally... that because I wasn't sitting around being Eeyore, crying woe is me to the world that I must live in a utopia.

I walked away from that conversation... my head spinning, my heart hurting and my tongue aching from biting it to avoid saying the wrong thing.

I had to get away. I am a truly empathetic person.  I will hold you, pray with you, help you carry what I cannot even begin to understand.  But... right now, my bucket is dry, I don't have many tears left to share with others.  My shoulders are not strong enough to carry more than what they already have.

And honestly, I truly cannot be there mentally, emotionally or physically for anyone that doesn't want to share in the journey of helping themselves.

Hubs and I are going through too much right now.  We haven't hit the bottom of this current slide, but we can see it.  I don't like being on roller coasters, I especially hate when you get stuck in the front seat.

The wind is blowing my hair back, my eyes are watering (I'm fighting not to close them), my heart is racing...

Then I blink...

I lift my head...

I look forward and realize, there is another peak coming, another breathtaking high.  There are still stars to dance in, beauty all around us.

I'm not looking forward to the climb, I am tired, Hubs is tired.  But we are a team, we are each other's strength and together we will be just fine....

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