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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

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.

I recently read somewhere that nightmares are the minds way of processing traumatic events and memories. I always knew that was the case but having seen it in writing recently reminded me of a new nightmare I had recently; an “easy night-nightmare,” is what I call it.

You see, for me, there are two kinds of nightmares that I have; an “easy night-nightmare,” these are the ones that startle me from sleep, the ones that I know are ridiculous, and ones I usually try to wake myself up from, thinking, “This isn’t real.” They’re not to be overlooked though, they still carry the undertones for the “hard night-nightmares.”

These ones terrify me to no end because while the premise of the dream keeps in line with the easy night ones, the hard night-nightmares brings an unsettling and realistic feeling of grief and fear with them; in these nightmares, I can’t tell whether I’m awake or dreaming. All I know is the pain is too real in these dreams. There is no waking from these dreams; no thought that I can get out of this subconscious reality; these ones paralyze me. They can be so bad that in nights following them, I am afraid to sleep.

When it happens that I have a hard night-nightmare, when I am somehow able to wake up, it can take a bit to calm down, and it’s almost impossible to get back to sleep. Typically, I crawl into Kevin’s arms, or his lap if he’s already awake for the day, and sob uncontrollably. And he’s so patient with me: reminding me to breathe, that he’s right here; he’ll rub his fingers through my hair and circles over my back. We only pause so I can blow my nose because breathing becomes an issue when you’re laying down and crying your heart out. These dreams can lead me into a panic attack, which is something I’ve never used to experience before.

But this new nightmare, if you could even call it that, was different. You see, the others all have one thing in common, and that is that Kevin is gone: he’s either away, or leaving, or sometimes, the nightmares are related to injury. His accident, I almost lost him forever. Almost losing the person you love most, that will change you. And these fears, an abstract possibility before, came a little too close for comfort.

Anyways, this new nightmare: Kevin was leaving, being sent away: he’d somehow gotten involved with drugs and had been arrested. I remember thinking in the dream, this is freaking ridiculous! Kevin won’t even so much as take an acetaminophen unless he absolutely has to. When I work up, I shook my head, laughed a little, and got ready for the day.

But as I was telling Kevin about it later, I couldn’t help but feel a little of the grief that follows when I think of that day, when he was almost lost to me forever.

And I came to one conclusion either way: nightmares are the worst.

July 23, 2025

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to beginning this process; it’s made me question a lot of things I think I know or thought I knew about myself.

In the end, I decided I needed to do this to move forward. I can’t keep being stuck in my own mind and in my own emotions. So I thought I would begin this blog…and face my own fears head on.

My hope is that it will help someone else, anyone else, who may be having a tough time but isn’t quite sure where to go.

I know I was lost for a while; still am sometimes. But that’s ok. Because I am able to see now that the memories I face are a testament to my family’s strength. To mine.

And then I wondered, “Where do I start? At the beginning?” But I don’t want to go back. I don’t think that will help.

So I’m going to start right where I am. Here. Today. Trying to keep moving forward when the worst day of my life still lingers through every day I get. And I know how dramatic that sounds but it’s true; some events truly are the worst day of your life, even if things turned out fine in the end. And they did.

You’ll get my story in time. Learn what happened that led me down this very long road. The fights I faced. The dark moments I struggled in. And the little triumphs I savor. This will be hard, emotional, and real. Mostly real.

Because this whole journey has been nothing but real. Real fears, real pain, and very real emotion. Trauma tends to do that.

I want this to come out naturally so I won’t be scripting anything here. I have almost 40 pages of writing I could share, and some I probably will, at least excerpts of it. But I don’t want it to feel forced by using something that, at the time, was just meant for me. Something that was completely uncensored. And I will share some, as I said, just selectively.

In the end, I just want people to know that they are not alone; that there are others that understand the weight of their mind and emotions controlling their every day, every interaction. That it’s ok to set boundaries and seek help. That it’s ok to feel vulnerable and angry. And especially that they don’t need validation for what they are feeling. It doesn’t require explanation and there is no time limit to healing.