Hey, life? Are you kidding me?

I Can Talk About It, But Am I Ready To Write About It?

I Can Talk About It, But Am I Ready To Write About It?

Why would something be harder for me to write about than it is to talk about? I guess because there is no hiding behind a smile, or turning the conversation around to the other person, or cracking a joke so the other person isn't uncomfortable. I realize that writing can be a give and take between author and reader, but not this time. This time it is just me. I think I might be brutally honest in this entry, so flee if you must.

I probably won't make it through in one entry. Too many feelings and events to reflect on. I'm not always as strong as I seem. I don't know, maybe I don't even seem strong. I am though, or I wouldn't have made it through. God gives me strength every day, hour, minute, second. . .in every breath.

Tomorrow is my 2 year wedding anniversary. That is small in comparison to many, but each day I have with my husband I treasure as much as decades.

On December 31, 2015 my husband had a massive stroke. He was 46 years old. We had been married 6 months. He lay on our bedroom floor for 6 hours before my father found him. (I was about 60 miles away when I realized something had happened. He didn't show up for work and wasn't answering his phone.)

My son was with me as I was speeding, weeping to get to Bruce. My son called the ambulance upon learning Bruce was responsive but couldn't move. They met us at the house.

The neurologist told me Bruce quite likely wouldn't live through the night. I told him he was wrong. I mean my husband was talking and we had only found each other again.

I blogged that night because I didn't know what else to do. I was helpless. Not helpless - I begged people for prayers. And we received them.

Bruce's left side was paralyzed and his speech was slurred some, but mentally he seemed okay. But here's the thing, when your brain has an acute bleed it's go some rewiring to do.

After a month in inpatient rehab, he still couldn't transfer from the bed to the wheelchair without quite a bit of assistance. He had no feeling or movement in the left side. The 'case worker' told me I needed to look into nursing homes. I told her that would kill him...and me. She told me it was too much for me to be his caregiver. "That's fine, because I plan to continue to be his wife," I replied with certainty that I had no idea was in me.

This isn't just a sad story; you have no idea what we have gained from this experience... I mean besides the debt, of course. We got 8 months without either one of us having to work at a job; trust me we were working. We would never have had that amount of time together. A farmer and a teacher don't equal much free time.

We laughed and still look back and laugh at things that I would never have thought anyone could laugh at but you do. Just to be overtly truthful (hide your eyes if you are timid), at the beginning I laughed more than once when I was helping him go to the bathroom and somehow the stream hit my face instead the urine jug. I colored the jugs with sharpies because the nurses kept moving them, and you have to be able to find those suckers when they are needed. Apparently, when guys have to pee there is no'okay give me a second'.

I wouldn't have gotten a text from my brother telling me I was Rock Star. I didn't understand at first, until later when my sister explained he had told her I had been feeding Bruce like it was no big deal. And feeding him wasn't a big deal, making sure he knew he was a person of value was a huge deal.

If the stroke hadn't happened, he would be farming and I know that would make him happy. But at the same time, if it hadn't happened he wouldn't have been able to volunteer for 6 months in the severely handicapped room at the school I teach at also. Those kids needed him. And he needed them just as much.

We would laugh in the night when he would pick my arm up and put it across his chest. When I asked if I could move it; he was puzzled. He replied, "Sorry, I thought that was my arm. I didn't want it to get stuck under me."

The stroke was and is real. And it sucks, yeah it does. But so much good has come out of it. My heart is kinder. I treasure moments and small things so much, not because I'm afraid they won't happen again, but because I realize all things matter. The laughter, the tears, the prayers, tiredness to the point of losing yourself, the joke he tells for the 3rd time that wasn't that funny the first 2 times, but I freaking love it.

Tomorrow, when we go to lunch...We will walk together, slowly, but I don't care I'm not in a rush because I have been blessed with going through this with him. I don't care if I push him in a wheel chair, walk, or run; I'm just going to soak in every nuance.

I love you, Bruce. For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. I meant it two years ago, and I will always mean it.

All my love,
Audra