The Harrowed Heart

Author: andreanoble1016

  • A little grace.

    Well…I made it through the holiday season; I think I kept my grinch held to a minimum but only just. People forget sometimes that just because a person is happy and friendly, it doesn’t necessarily mean they enjoy the holidays. I used to, and I am slowly getting back to it, but I’m not there yet. Maybe next year.

    Anyways, I ended the year seeing my therapist. I wasn’t really talking about anything in particular. I took those cutting words from that awful person and reclaimed them. What I mean is, they have no idea who I am, what we went through, and they certainly don’t know anything about the state of my relationship with Kevin. Their callousness is a reflection of who they are, not me. It was empowering taking that back. But it didn’t quite hit me that way until I was on a run.

    I’ve mentioned I’ve been doing the gym thing as a means to help with the anxiety and it also helps me sleep a little better, occasionally. I also just want to feel better physically, so I’ve been setting little goals throughout the year, just to keep up my motivation. The biggest one I had set for myself, was to break 60 minutes running 5 miles. And I finally did!

    This run came after a trying day, a couple of them, actually. I was still finding my footing after what that person said; I’d had a few angry encounters at work, justifiably so, but it’s still trying being on the receiving end of someone’s ire when all you’re trying to do is help.

    Initially, I didn’t even want to go to the gym; the holidays had been keeping my mood muted and my interests and things I had been doing took a hit. But I told myself I needed to go; that I feel better when I do. That I just had to walk in the door and get started. And I compromised with myself, too; just run for 20 minutes and then call it if you want. But do something, get out of this rut.

    So that’s what I did. My playlist was hitting tunes with enough energy to keep me going. I noticed that I passed the two-and-a-half-mile mark in just under 30 minutes, and I was still hitting my stride. I kept going.

    I started struggling as I neared the four-mile mark, but I told myself to keep going. I could do this. I had already run 5 miles before when I thought I couldn’t make it. And then, then I really started to own those thoughts. To take pride in them and let them become a part of my being. And they kept coming.

    So when my breathing started to come rougher and my legs started to burn, I kept up my silent pep talk.

    Look at how far you’ve come. You can break that 60 minutes and keep going, if you wanted. Look what you’ve overcome. Look at how much stronger you are. You keep setting these goals and then seeing it through, this is just the next on the list.

    And when I hit 5 miles and checked my time, to see that I had met the goal I wanted, I started crying. Not recommended by the way, especially if you still have 5 minutes and 15 something seconds to go before your run and cool down are complete. So I pulled it back a bit. But I had done it. And I remembered reading about something related to trauma that I understood but didn’t really absorb until then.

    What I read said the one thing people who’ve been through a trauma want is to go back to the way things were before it happened, but that it wasn’t possible return to that. And when I really started thinking about it, I realized, that while I miss the way things were before the accident, I wouldn’t want to go back to who I was then.

    I am a better person now, stronger.

    I set boundaries.

    I’m patient with myself.

    I take better care of my mental health now.

    And most importantly, I give myself a little grace. A little leeway to crumble when days are hard and then a little more when it takes a minute to get back up. This version of me is probably the best yet. This is the version of me who knows her imperfections are living reminders of her experiences and loves herself anyways.

  • I don’t know what to say…

    I can’t even wrap my head around what I heard today, but I’m going to try, so here goes.

    I was told today, that when Kevin originally had his accident, there was talk, and I won’t mention who, though I wish I could throttle them both, that I had done it. And by that, I mean they thought I was responsible for Kevin’s accident, that I somehow willingly inflicted a life-threatening injury on him.

    Now, I’m all for the odd, dark joke; making them is sometimes preferable to tears and breakdowns but these people…One I don’t think much of just because of their demeanor and the other is nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

    Now, when I come across people I don’t like for one reason or another-or sometimes for no reason at all-I ask myself what it is exactly that I don’t like about them, and more importantly, is that a reflection of them, or of me? Mostly it’s me and I’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t have to like everyone, just as they don’t all have to like me. I think is just a natural occurrence and its ok as long as I remember that not liking someone does give me or anyone else license to be rude or disrespectful towards them.

    And I work hard to do that, sometimes more than I want to. But it comes to the same: they still deserve respect even if I don’t like them. That is also a natural occurrence, or it should be.

    Now, this person today, I have never liked them. Not 15 years ago when we initially met, not a few years back when I met them again, and definitely not now. I’ve tried to be more than just polite, I’ve tried to engage in conversation with them about their interests, and I just can’t anymore. My main description of them is only something I’ve shared with Kevin and my therapist; to be frank, I find nothing sincere about this person. I used to think it was just me but I’ve been proven wrong by them, on multiple occasions now.

    The first time was a few months back when they approached me about a sensitive issue while I was at work. Now, I’m not shy in my emotions and feelings, but I am selective in who I willingly share that with. There is nothing in our history to indicate that I would ever want to share a more in-depth conversation with them about that particular topic. I told them, very firmly, verging on rude, that that topic was not one they should ever approach me about again. They told me they thought the situation was different and I immediately shut that down as well, reiterating that they don’t know the situation and it is not up for discussion, ever.

    I also reported that conversation as a means to protect myself and ensure it would not happen again. I may have been more standoffish with this person since then.

    But now to learn that they had discussions about whether I intentionally hurt Kevin… I just want to yell at them, put them in their place. Remind them that they have no right to make such an implication let along discuss it like fodder to fill their worthless time.

    I don’t need to tell them how broken I felt when all this was happening; they don’t know that I can still hear my bug screaming, see my son’s tears, and watch my pancake try to shake the words, “your father could die,” from her head.

    They don’t get to know about the sleepless nights, the endless fears, or about the panic attacks I had. They don’t know I use therapy, breathing techniques, going to the gym, and writing as an outlet for any of that. They don’t know that there are still triggering moments, hard days, and nightmares that still plague me.

    They especially don’t know the relationship I have with Kevin or what we mean to each other; they don’t know how many times I shut down platitudes of, “at least you’ll appreciate him more, now,” with I already did. They don’t know the kind of love that Kevin and I share: one that is honest, raw, and worth fighting for, even to live, as Kevin did for me.

    They don’t know how deep that connection goes or that when he was under, before he was flown out; cracked open but unconscious under the protective coverings; intubated, and looking every bit the patient that he was in a hospital emergency room that look like a bomb had gone off in it, that Kevin heard me: he responded to my words to fight and stay with me. He moved his feet, and it was like hope had been brought back to life in that room. Everyone there knew it, they felt it. It was tangible.

    But this person, they don’t know that, because they don’t know me; they only know of me. Not who I am. I’m selective about that, even more now.

    I really wish I could confront this vile person, but I don’t even know that I could say anything that would convey just how callous their words were. I really have no clue how they came to the conclusion that I could ever hurt Kevin, unless they equate my ability to set boundaries gave them the thought…seems like a leap though. It almost feels like showing strength equates to being aggressive.

    But let me tell you: I had to walk through fire for that strength. And I’ll keep doing it now, and walk away from this person as well, because at the end of the day, a confrontation is not going to end well; not for me. And they’re also so not worth it.

  • Ugh…

    Sorry I’ve been absent recently; things have been going really well-been feeling strong and just trying to enjoy the little things in life.

    Got to mid-October and things just kind of slumped; we reached my grandmother’s birthday and that was hard. The first everything after the people you love pass are always hard.

    Then we were able to take the oldest and youngest to dinner for their birthdays, with their boyfriends in tow-nice young men. Kevin and like them both but the key is that our kids seem happy and are treated well, so we’re good. We had to call our son for his birthday-it was really weird with him being away at school, to spend his birthday without him. But he’s also doing well and happy-and he got see his girlfriend last weekend, so he’s good, too (and yes, we also like her.)

    But then I started having some anxiety-I hate to call them attacks-it feels weird in my head-especially when they seem quiet and under control. I kept watch but couldn’t really find a trigger-other than the time of year. I’ve been diligent about minding the things I know could set me off-no need test myself right now.

    The anxiety seemed manageable at first, I didn’t even mention the first 2-3 episodes to Kevin; just breathed through them and tried to calm my racing heart. I hate that the most-the heart racing-it feels weird when that happens and there is no activity to precipitate it. I have to watch my thoughts when these happen, too, so I don’t exacerbate the problem. Spiraling down a rabbit hole is not the best idea to do when I’m already feeling anxious.

    But over the last couple of weeks, it’s been getting worse-so much so that I spent 20 minutes yesterday trying to talk myself down, before finally giving up and hiding in Kevin’s office for 15 minutes and trying to distract myself. I had told him that I’d been struggling a little; he did what he always does-reminded me that he was here, and that he was here if I need him. And just let me hug him-which has been the best balm to my anxiety. Kevin just has a way to calm me and make me feel safe-he brings me peace.

    But after yesterday’s episode-God there has to be a better way to describe this-I decided to make an appointment with my therapist. I haven’t seen him since the end of August; I was feeling good, strong, and I wanted to enjoy it for a while. And I was doing good. But this time of year just hits me so freaking hard.

    It doesn’t matter that I try NOT to focus on the bad things that have happened; but how do you not remember the people you’ve lost at the time of year that you lost them? And then remember that I work where everyone knows about Kevin’s accident, and there have been questions about how I’m feeling now, about how Kevin’s feeling now.

    How am I supposed to answer that? “Thanks for asking… I just love discussing a potentially emotionally charged topic that is in no way painful to me?” And really, I don’t mind talking about that, how I feel, with the right people at the right time, but work is not that place. I won’t even begin to address the second question other than to say the situation is ongoing.

    There is generally more happening in a person’s life than we know, that’s why it’s important to be kind, even when things are hard.

    So…yeah…I’ve been struggling with anxiety the last few weeks; I’m angry, and sad, and frustrated because it all still hurts, and sucks, and is freaking hard. And it’s all condensed into this time-frame and I thought I was doing so good and I was and I know I was and I know this is just a blip, but really, can’t it be enough already?

  • I just miss her

    It’s my grandma’s birthday today; she would have been 89.
    This is the first birthday without her, and it sucks.

    I always hate these types of first; they’re always the hardest. The first birthday without being able to call her-it reminded me of the last birthday I got to spend with her. The first and last time we went to a baseball game together. The last call we had where she asked when I’d be back to take her to another one.

    I’ve been thinking about her all day and I struggled to keep it together at work. I made it to mid-morning before I started crying. That’s me. I’m the cry-er in my family. Always have been. Always will be.

    I used to hate that I was always so emotional. It seemed like a burden that my anger or my sadness would always result in tears, and I couldn’t help it. But now I see it as a strength…my compassion lets me do my job and do it well.

    Kevin said he could feel my heart breaking as I cried over the enchilada’s he made for me tonight; they were grandma’s enchiladas. I remember the first time I ate them after she was gone… I was crying in the grocery store, in front of the Mexican food section, asking my Kevin if he would make them for me. I sobbed through every bite; he said it’s because I love so deeply. And it was the same tonight, but I couldn’t let her birthday pass without her enchiladas.

    I knew today was going to be hard but what I didn’t expect is that it would feel as if no time had passed since I got the news that she was gone… it hurts every bit as much as it did then. Maybe a bit worse since it’s been almost a year since I last spoke to her. I can still her soft voice calling me “mija” and telling me I eat like a bird.

    But I also remember the last trip to California before her death; we took a day trip to Yosemite. Grandma told me about the trips she and grandpa used to take my mama and my uncles on when they were younger; how they would leave early and make camp by the river and cook up breakfast. She must of told me that story about 9 times on the way to and from Yosemite. I remember not minding…knowing I wouldn’t have many more opportunities to hear them. Knowing that she just wanted to talk with me. Know that we loved each other so much. Not knowing that would be the last time I heard that story. I didn’t mind.

    Man do I miss her.

  • A good reminder

    I often get people, patients and visitors alike, coming into my lobby and looking for specific services that are not located in my area; usually, I just direct them to the appropriate location and wish them a happy day.

    More often than not, I get those who need to be directed to the emergency room for various reasons: they require emergency services; they’re here to visit an in-patient and need to check-in with the emergency room unit coordinator first (for patient safety), or they’re here to be with someone in the emergency department-usually a relative or friend.

    I typically handle these visitors with care, first finding out what is bringing them in, though they’re usually good about letting me know when I ask, “how can I help you today?” Then I’ll either direct them around the building to access the emergency room department, or personally walk them down, and through the locked access doors. FYI: anyone bleeding and people in obvious discomfort or pain get an immediate escort directly to the emergency room while visitors are given directions on how to get there.

    Last week, however, I had a gentleman come in looking for his son, who had been in an accident. That was all he said. Normally, I would give him directions to the emergency room but something in the tremor of his voice spoke to me. I could hear his fear and his grief; I felt his pain wrapped around the way he said “son” and “accident” in the same breath. And I felt a kinship towards him, knowing that feeling myself.

    So I didn’t hesitate to shut down my computer, lock up my HIPAA protected papers, put the bell out, and walk him to the emergency department. Knowing the strength he would need, I asked if he would like me to grab him a coffee or juice before I led him to the ED. He declined and that was that.

    Quietly, we made the short trek to the ED; we didn’t speak a word between us, other than my light direction to take a right down another hall, but I could feel each shudder in his breathing, not knowing what to expect. As I let him through the final door, I introduced the unit coordinator to him by name, let him know they would help him from here, and to let us know if he needed anything.

    I don’t know the outcome of that encounter or who they were: I don’t need to know. I know what I needed when it was me and I just wanted to pass along any kindness I could to that person. It’s scary, the not knowing. And the fear you feel is so painful, so crushing, it’s a wonder it’s not tangible. It’s something dark that just lives in you until you get the relief you need, if you get it, until you hear the words that can turn it into a bad memory. And when that relief hits, it’s so sweet it’s draining. It takes your strength and the air from your lungs.

    This meeting has been sitting with me the last few days; I find I’ve been dwelling on it more than I should, as well as a few other personal issues… yeah, there have been a few lately. It just really makes me wonder, ya know? Why do some of these things happen? Some people are gone before we’re ready; some are told how much time they have left. And in between…in between I guess we just do the best we can; we just keep showing up and showing the world how resilient we can be, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time.

    I also got some really wonderful new, coming May 2025; there will be a new baby in our family…not me!! Another family member is expecting and we’re thrilled for them. That news was just what I needed right now… it was a reminder that while shit hits the fan, regularly and with more frequency than I care for, good things are still happening, too.

    I really needed that.

  • Sometimes, it’s just a lot

    So last week, I wrote that I have been struggling to get some solid sleep in… unfortunately, I received some bad news that night, and sleep did not come easily. I’m actually still processing that news, just waiting for it to hit, because I know it will.

    On another note, I’ve been thinking a lot about the peace that I’ve worked hard to find; specifically, about the control I have to keep my peace.

    Small actions, no matter how big or small, have the power to impact someone else’s day. I think I explained this fairly eloquently to a co-worker recently, about another’s behavior. I won’t go into detail here but the co-worker I was talking to… she’s big on putting yourself in someone else’s shoes, to take a look at things from where they’re standing. I have a love/hate relationship with this mentality some days. It’s not a bad mindset to have but it can be exhausting as well. Anywho…

    I let her know my concerns and yes, frustrations with another colleague. I explained that I’ve been struggling recently-she knows my history, been with me through my dark days, and seen me progress through my therapy-so I’m not afraid to share with her but I also felt the need to remind her that while I’m doing well, there’s been a lot going on recently, and that while I’m managing my stressors and triggers, when things begin to pile on, it can be those little things that push me to that breaking point.

    So, I let her know, this one concern, a small action, really and truly usually ignorable, can still be that one thing to set me off. And not me, necessarily, but anyone else who may also be going through it themselves. You never do know what someone else is carrying: they could have lost a friend, have a family member fighting cancer, or be having an “and then” day-a day where nothing seems to go right and it just keeps piling on… you know, “I woke up late, and then my car wouldn’t start, and then I dropped my coffee everywhere, and then…” You get the idea. I think she got the point.

    I said what I needed to say and now I’m done with it. There is someone else who has noticed this other colleague’s behavior and she’s not happy about it, either, but that’s her battle. I also keep telling her to “let it go, if nothing is going to be done, then nothing will be done.” I can only hold onto my peace, even when it feels like I’m having an “and then day,” even when sometimes it’s just a lot.

  • That time of year again

    I haven’t been sleeping all that well in the last few weeks; I kept trying to tell myself that I wasn’t sure why it was such an issue recenlty: I’ve been going to the gym, monitoring my emotional health and state, talking to Kevin about my frustrations (not necessarily related to his accident), and overall just trying to remember that I control my peace, especially when others are so determined to be miserable.

    Nope, I know exactly why sleep has been an issue for me lately: it’s because it’s about that time of year again.

    I used to love this time of year, I loved the brisk mornings and the warm afternoons. I loved the way you could see the sparkle of frost on the aspen leaves and smell the smoke from a wood burning stove. To me, this meant a changing of the season’s, a change that typically everyone indulged in as we entered the holiday season.

    Halloween would bring laughter and costumes, a reminder of our earlier youthfulness, and a return to harmless shenanigans, if you were of a mind to dress up or play tricks. And that youthful exuberance would turn into something softer, something that resembled gratitude and thankfulness as we moved right on through to the Thanksgiving holiday. Everyone was a little nicer, more patient, a bit more generous, and endlessly grateful for their blessings. We could all wander through memories to see where we’ve been and how far we’ve come. It was hard not to feel appreciative for our lives and remember that maybe, we might not have it so bad after all.

    Then Christmas. My all-time favorite. I can remember when I loved to decorate the house, put the tree up, expand our set up outside. There would be garland and lights hung everywhere; ornaments were hung from tree limbs outside; lights circled the overhangs and the patio. And when it was quiet, I’d sit quietly and gaze at the tree and just breathe, thinking there was something truly magical about the season, even if the magic had changed from childhood fantasy.

    I had always thought that there was something magical about this time of year, it was always something to look forward to.

    But the truth is, the last few years seem to have stolen the last bit of magic I used to hold onto. We still decorate, but I’m not as invested as I used to be. Halloween is either on or not, mostly not in more recent years…I can’t even remember when I last carved a pumpkin. And Thanksgiving, while still delicious, hasn’t been the same since the T-Day 2022: ICU turkey is NOT food.

    Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to work hard to get past this time of year, and do my best not to be too much of a grinch, but I won’t lie: this time of year is now incredibly difficult for me. This time of year is now dotted with the loss of people I loved deeply and compounded with Kevin’s accident, yeah, I struggle with it. Last year, it felt like trying to take a deep breath under water, or with a pillow smothering you, sometimes both.

    I think what it comes down to is that I miss the magic; I miss the times when the holiday season had a tangible effect on the world, or at least mine. I miss the times before pain changed me. Wow. I felt that: I miss the times before pain changed me.

    And I stronger now, I know I am. I turned my pain into purpose, or at least, I’m trying to. And my next step, is to purge these thoughts tonight, and maybe, just maybe, get a good night’s sleep.

  • That’s Pretty Good

    I just read something that essentially said, with all the therapy I’ve been getting, I’m not learning how to handle the trauma, pain, anxiety, or depression I’ve been through, rather, I’m healing to enjoy and love all the good things that come my way, to allow happiness to resonate in my soul again. I felt that.

    On the one hand, there is no way the experience of Kevin’s accident is ever going to fully fade into memory; there will always be a trigger I don’t anticipate. Or a memory. A sound. A feeling. Tonight for instance, I watched a movie in which a husband lost his wife: the scene showed the husband crying and trying to curl into the wall of the hospital where he was waiting with family and I was transported to November 19, 2022, when I tried to curl into the hospital walls myself…when I was so scared and so overwhelmed that curling into anything else for comfort was all I could think to do at the time. Just to stop thinking, to stop feeling. I’ll never forget that moment, the one where my comfort was fighting for his life and I had no one else to tell me it was going to be alright, to offer that comfort, and tell me it was going to be ok.

    That comfort did come, eventually, in a coworker I was familiar with but didn’t know well. As soon as she opened her arms to hug me, I fell apart and allowed the grief to take me, knowing someone was there to help piece me back together, to help me navigate this terrifying situation, and to tell me it would be ok, even when we weren’t sure it would be.

    But I digress. The last few years of therapy have been exceptionally helpful in helping me manage those triggers and emotions, so while watching that scene did bring up extreme emotions and memory for me, I was also able to let slip the tears that managed to break through, remind myself that what occurred in the scene was not the outcome we had, and that Kevin was fine. We are fine.

    But then I think about the second part of what I had read…that I’m healing to accept happiness in again and that made so much sense. You see, when Kevin had his accident, and even though he’s fine now and I did not lose the love of my life, there was a period of time that I grieved his absence, and our future, not knowing then what would happen or that he would survive. Honestly, the trauma to his heart…I didn’t know if he’d make it; I’d been told to bring the kids, to prepare for the worst, to call our family. So yeah, I grieved a future we had planned, even if only for a few hours: trips we wanted to take, golf excursions, Florida for a wedding, our children’s graduations-our eldest child graduated from high school 7 months after Kevin’s accident-and so many other plans. I felt like I lost it all, all our future memories, even if they hadn’t happened yet…gone.

    The first year following the accident was exceptionally difficult: the wedding anniversary I thought I’d face alone, Father’s Day, my birthday, graduation, a wedding, a visit to my grandmother. I honestly thought it was all lost to me and so reaching each of those milestones, while amazing in their own rights, were bittersweet to me. They were tinged with memories of what we almost lost and a sense of relief that Kevin and made it this far. The first anniversary of Keivn’s accident brought on its own set of anxiety inducing memories and emotions for me. But we made it.

    And with therapy, I was able to face that I was afraid to fully embrace those times because they were almost stolen from me once. I was afraid of facing that I had almost lost them; afraid to believe that they did happen, that Kevin was here and celebrating with me. It took some time, but I’ve gotten better at being present in those moments now, in letting myself feel the joy and happiness that radiates in them.

    We just dropped our son off at college a few weeks ago and it was bittersweet for all the right reasons. Kevin and I, we only ever wanted to give our kids every opportunity we could, to allow them to be children for as long as they could, knowing what it was like to have to grow up early, and not wanting that for them. We wanted to keep them free from the burden of being an adult before their time.

    So dropping off our son at school, leaving our baby behind, in a place he worked so hard to get to, knowing that we had given him every tool we could to help him be successful; knowing that he had reached the first step of his dream, and knowing that Kevin and I could do that for him, that was pretty amazing. So, while I was crying for a whole different reason, I was also so incredibly happy, and that is pretty good.

  • Did not expect that

    There are a lot of things that hit a little more unexpectedly than I would like, and yes, most of those surround anything that has to do with Kevin’s accident.
    Over the last few years, it’s become pretty common place for me to brace myself when someone brings up the subject or asks a question about the incident… I will never understand the need of some people pick at the scabs of a subject I’ve been clear I don’t want to speak about. It’s not even that I don’t want to talk about it, I do, but I’m also selective about the people I share my most vulnerable thoughts with. Any maybe they’re not picking and I’m being sensitive…

    Anyways….

    When I was grabbing my coffee this morning, I asked Kevin if our usual friend would be joining us for golf this weekend. Kevin said he would and then I kind of mentally drifted off into my day ahead and Kevin mentioned something about our friend talking about that…

    I was spaced and asked, “talking about golf? Yeah…”

    Kevin said no, Mr. golf buddy was talking about “that day.” Still blanked, not having any clue to what he was referring, and with my mind still firmly on golf, my coffee, and the workday ahead, I absently asked, “Saturday?”

    “No, he was talking about that day” Kevin said.

    Insert instantaneous blanking of my mind. That day. I knew which day he meant. The day of the accident.

    Here is where I usually brace, knowing what is coming, knowing my heart is about to race and my breath is about to catch as my emotions overwhelm me… I waited a beat and then Kevin clarified: “He was talking about when he got called in that day.”

    And nothing. No racing heart. No shortness of breath. No panic or anxiety of any kind.

    Nothing happened.

    I don’t know exactly what happened because this topic, his accident…I’m never comfortable speaking about that. Even now, as I type, I feel I’m holding back (I’m trying, I swear).

    But today, when Kevin mentioned that our friend was talking about when he got called in that day? No reaction. I can only believe it was because Kevin was sharing it with me. And he’s my person. And I’ve never held back speaking about that day with Kevin.

    You see, our golf friend? He works in the OR and was called in the day of Kevin’s accident. We live in a small community, and we all work for the same organization, in different areas. But Kevin and Mr. golf dude, have been friends for ages, not just colleagues, friends. Always golfing, talking sports, hanging out at whatever mutual event our children were participating in. Friends.

    Now I don’t know much about what happened after I walked out of emergency room six that day; I left. I did not want to stay in that room and witness what the amazing team had to do to save my husband. I did not need those memories. What I do know? That he needed a thoracotomy so they could reach and repair his heart, was enough.

    What I also know, is that in the sea of faces I saw lining that emergency room as Kevin was being prepped to be flown out, is that our friend’s face stood out.

    I saw his grief, his sorrow, and his pain, clear as day, written across his face. I still see it. He was worried for his friend, understood the chances of his survival, which were less than 7 percent. He had to help save his friend, he had to use the rib spreader to access Kevin’s heart, watch as the doctors manually pumped his heart, took a turn doing so himself, and knew it might still not be enough. He listened and stood with the rest of team when they collectively decided they were not ready to call it, they were not willing to give up.

    Our friend didn’t know it was Kevin initially; he just knew the case he was working on was not something that would likely come across again. I’m not sure when he realized it was working on Kevin, but it must have been devastating for him. He was in that room helping Kevin fight. He was witness to what I prayed were not my final words to Kevin. He watched as I begged Kevin to stay with me.

    So today, when Kevin mentioned that our friend was talking about being called in that day… I didn’t flinch; there was no reaction. Kevin said our friend got a little choked up recalling these events and a new sense of kinship washed over me for our friend. And when I realized that maybe, just maybe I wasn’t the only one still hurting over this, I felt lighter.

    I did not expect that

  • Interesting thought…

    I don’t know if anyone is going to understand my rambling words, but I generally find myself thinking of multiple things at once, ya know? Like at work, I’ll be grabbing my coffee and thinking about what needs to be a priority for the day, if I’ll be staying for lunch or heading home, wondering what I can get the kids for their birthdays or Christmas, because I really need to start my shopping, whether I remembered to pay x, y, or z bill, and remind myself to make reservations for our upcoming trips. I struggle to settle my thoughts most days… that just me?

    But I learned that if focus on something meaningful or challenging, my brain isn’t such a beehive of activity.

    So I’ve been considering a line from one of my favorite songs by Fall Out Boy that says: “Sometimes the only payout, for having any faith, is when its tested again and again, every day.” I’ve been thinking about that a lot, recently, and trying to figure out what that means to me.

    So far, all I think that means is to have faith that I will get through the tough times, they will come again, and I’ll get through those, too; I’m trying to find some strength in that, in the reminder that I’ve made it through 100% of the tough days… that I’ve been tested again and again and become better for it.

    That’s an interesting way of thinking about things: that I’m better for having gone through those struggles surrounding Kevin’s accident (or any tough experience, really). FYI: Kevin’s accident included one flight for life and 7 days in the ICU, followed by 2 more on the cardiac floor, and several grueling months of cardiac and physical therapy. And healing is still in progress for both he and I, even 3 years later.

    But I digress.

    Becoming better: well, I certainly found my voice a little more, even if I wasn’t the most patient; I learned how to set boundaries and let others know when something was making me uncomfortable or asked them to change the subject; I even found more patience, eventually, though that is still an area I struggle with, with certain topics and people. I learned how to ask for help.

    Just thinking of the emotional turmoil we’ve experienced over the last few years, the accident, the loss of loved ones…it’s been a lot because when it rains, it pours. And unfortunately, there hadn’t been a lot of time to properly grieve one loss before we suffered another. Each taking place around the same time of year over 4 successive years, ranging from mid-October to the end of November.

    It’s made a season I used to love difficult to navigate.

    I find, though, that there is a certain comfort in being repeatedly tested; a grace, if you will, about knowing that you would be able to handle all the rough times. Knowing that you have no choice but to continue on is one thing, but being repeatedly tested and knowing you’ll be able to handle it no matter what, that’s faith.